You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy.™
Ferguson, Missouri.
A friend of mine wrote me today and protested my silly story about Mexico scented bath soap.
“Really,” he screams in angry letters. “Mexican Soap? Why don’t you write about what’s going on in Ferguson.”
I was caught off guard by his direct and visceral question. After all, he was with me on many a Mexican escapade.
And my little blog story made me laugh out loud. But as a thinker of deep thoughts, his question did tickle my social thermostat.
Why don’t I write about Ferguson?
It’s on every channel all the time. It’s protests and anger. It’s black versus white. It’s cops versus citizens. It’s freedom and liberty, the right to peacefully gather and speak your mind versus police power, shows of force and civil disobedience.
Why don’t you write about Ferguson? He implores.
As I stare at this white screen of possibilities, I am not sure exactly what to write.
How deep can I go? How much will it matter?
I have followed the story but I haven’t lived the story.
I know the story, but I don’t really know the story.
I know this event starts as a white police officer shooting an unarmed black man.
Why did he shoot the youth? Did the young man provoke the officer? Did the teenager surrender?
Why did the police wait for days to release the officer’s name? Is that standard?
Day after day, tension escalated like a single bead of perspiration rolling down a tension filled face.
According to published reports “Witnesses have said Mr Brown was shot as he held his hands up in a position of surrender, while the police and supporters of Mr Wilson have said he fired during a fight with Mr Brown.”
What do you believe?
Does it matter?
The horse has left the barn.
One group of people see it one way. Another group of people see it another way. And there are a lot of people who don’t see what all the fuss is about to begin with.
Where’s Ferguson? they mutter aimlessly
When I see Al Sharpton at a church pulpit gyrating, pontificating, fanning the flames of bias and emotion, I find myself disillusioned.
Is Al Sharpton the cure? Or is Al Sharpton the disease?
I turn on CNN. There is tear gas and rubber bullets and curfews that nobody cares about.
There is looting and breaking windows and civil disobedience.
Why?
How does it further Mr. Brown’s cause. No matter what happens next, a life has been lost. How it happened is one part of the equation. But the equation will always end the same.
A man died in the street. An officer shot him. Right. Wrong.
It just is.
The family says without justice there can be no peace. But what is justice? If the cop is examined by the legal system and cleared of any charges, will that be good enough for the family?
Or is a conviction what the family needs to assuage the sizzling angst on the streets of Ferguson?
Now we’re hearing about outside agitators stirring the stew of insurrection. News reports indicate Black Panthers from California and renegade insurgents from Miami have come to this St. Louis suburb to incite the crowd, and combat the police.
Every day, every minute, something new happens.
It’s not a good scene.
The national guard in large machines of crowd dissemination standing toe to toe with protestors with signs, rocks and some armed with handguns.
It looks more like a scene from Beirut and less like a scene from America.
Ferguson, Missouri.
Until 10 days ago, none of us knew where this tinder box was.
It’s just North of St. Louis. You can throw a rock and hit the runway at the St. Louis International Airport.
The scenes are reminiscent of protests in the 60’s during the Vietnam War.
This summer storm seems like more than a hoodie protest. This societal scalpel cuts deep. It’s the same old wounds that we keep slicing into over and over again. Eventually you can’t sew the wound closed. It just lays open and festers.
I see white people in the crowd marching in solidarity for the Brown family. I see black people on tv calling for calm.
In many ways this is the best of America, it’s the worst of America.
Freedom of speech. Freedom to demonstrate.
America is 200 plus years old and it’s still a work in progress.
“Why don’t you write about Ferguson?”
My friend’s words fill my thoughts.
Like many Americans I watch it on the nightly news and wonder; What will happen next?
I pray for peace and justice and an open mind willing to extend a friendly handshake.
In the immortal words of one of this nation’s most infamous citizens;
“can’t we all just get along?”
It’s a good question. I should write about that.
Life’s Crazy™