Day: May 5, 2018

Today, the refugee kids and Maria and Ali and me  walked into Ed Gulleys changing world, what he calls “the life of the now,” a place of what the gurus call radical acceptance.

I will always remember the looks on the faces of the refugee kids when I told them about Ed’s illness, his brain tumors.

They all knew about it, and they all seemed to know what to do and not to.

They didn’t mention it, but their feeling for this bit and loud and interesting man was evident in their eyes and bodies and gestures.

There was a real connection, perhaps because they know about trouble and suffering. I urged them to read his blog from yesterday. Some were reading it on their phones as their van left the farm for Albany.

I was struck by this post Ed wrote yesterday, it was a portrait in introspection and acceptance, and perhaps, courage also. I am a sucker for writing this good and authentic.

I suppose all of us might wonder how we might feel if we had just been told by a surgeon that we had a bunch of tumors in our brain, and there was nothing much to be done about it that we could accept.

Ed is an opinionated man, and he is used to giving lectures, a trait most writers tend  towards if they are not careful (I always do what I call “me” writing, to avoid this trap).

Mostly, he lectures about the plight of the farmer, about which he knows a great deal, and the artificially low price of milk, which sometimes drives farmers to suicide and ruin. Don’t mention milk to Ed unless you have a lot of time. Ed and I have argued about this, farmers sometimes forget, I said, that everyone who is not wealthy has it rough these days. He laughs at me.

Yesterdays posting was different, it has a softness and honesty and reflection that it is the core of real writing, and reveals the true nature of a soul. His piece showed vulnerability and was a portrait of one strong and independent man’s search to accept the new reality of his life, just a week ago.

What the doctor told him was unimaginable and utterly unpredictable. A great shock.

In his piece, Ed thought about a “barter on the time ahead.” He wanted to make a trade, to get to go to a grandchild’s ball game and get the difficult 4020 tractor running while he can. I hope he gets to make that deal, I’m sure he will.

“Today,” Ed wrote on his blog, “While waiting to get the 4020 ready and running, I felt angry and frustrated at first with my sight problems making it impossible to do what I felt should be so simple; done it before many, many times, but I couldn’t.”

Like the sickness eating away at him, he wrote, “I accepted defeat. I can’t do it, so with Carol at my side we went and pulled weeds..it was relaxing doing what you can, being content, choosing what is best for me at this time.”

If you know Ed, you will know what a powerful and significant and reveal string of words that is. The very proud and independent man, who has fixed tractors hundreds, if not thousands of times in his long life on the farm, is suddenly helpless and feels defeated by his own shadow.

He is the unchallenged master of his universe, the one everyone went to for miles around for help in fixing things and learning things. I think he may not ever have felt defeated in  his life.

But as we can see from reading this piece, he is not defeated, nor is he helpless.

Instead of feeling badly about his life, or pitying himself, or being angry what is happening, he chooses to do what he can, to be content in the choice he makes about what is best for him at this time.

That is a lot of wisdom from a person who spent so many years of his life in one small world, working from dawn to dusk. I have heard many people complain much more bitterly and piteously about the death of a dog or cat. Ed has  yet to complain about his cancer, although he has every right to do so.

Ed  says he plans to enjoy his journey, his time, his travels, getting back at long last to the “simple…the ABC’s.”

In his writing, Ed is embracing radical acceptance, he is not thinking about what he can’t do or can’t change, or even prepare for. Instead, he writes, he will “let our spirit guide us down this path without fear or guilt..staying int the life of the now…until our spirit helps us step over into the unknown…” Radical acceptance means understanding what while pain is inevitable in life, suffering is a choice.

Ed came to this value, which has long fascinated me, quickly, and I think it is a part of him, his very special way of looking at the world. Ed accepts the pain, which he cannot avoid, but chooses not to suffer.

This is a special piece of writing, a gripping and touching reflection from the darkness into the light. Which ever way it all goes, Ed will have a lot of important things to say on his blog in the coming weeks and months. A gift to all of us who face and respect the true nature of life.

Nobody visits a farm family in America without eating something. People are always pushing food in front of you, and the Gulleys always have boxes of ice cream around for visitors and their grandchildren, and today, for the soccer players from the Albany Warriors, a refugee team from Albany.

These kids don’t eat much, but they loved the ice cream and left happy and grateful. It was a touching visit. They all knew about Ed’s illness and offered him support in their way – hugs, thumbs up, pats on the back and promises to come back. They will, too.

Today was the second day we let the sheep out to graze and the soccer team got a front row seat on Bedlam  Farm in the Spring. Red is the official mascot of the soccer team, the players are fascinated by the way he works. They love watching Fate race madly around the sheep and some of them challenge her to races around the pasture.

They brought carrots to the donkeys and loved their soft noses. It was a gift having them here, they miss open spaces and love the country. They plan to visit often this summer, we are thrilled to have them. We went to the Round House Cafe for falafel sandwiches and then to Battenkill Books, where I told each of the players to pick out a book.

Three did, and that was a pleasure. Then we went over to Ed Gulley’s farm, Bejosh Farm.

Five or six years ago, Ali (Amjad Abdulla) decided to take some of the new refugee children coming into Albany under his wing. Some of the kids had lost their fathers, or had to leave them behind.  Most had single working mothers who worked long hours in low paying jobs. Some were struggling acclimate to an urban environment, had no activities or friends outside of school, and some, he though were going to get in trouble.

So he started the soccer team with his own time and  money, relying on the big white vans of RISSE, the refugee and immigrant support center in Albany. RISSE did not and could not sponsor the team, some of the kids wore flip-flops to practice, and were up against wealthy suburban American teams whose parents paid for snappy uniforms, imported sneakers, and strong coaching and conditioning staffs.

In the home countries of most of these kids – Asia, Africa, the Middle East – soccer was mostly about going out in the back yard and kicking a wound ball. There were no uniforms, sneakers, expensive tournament and league costs. The kids have diverse interests and languages and attitudes, but one thing united all of them – a love of soccer.

And one another thing – severe trauma, the hallmark of the refugee in our time. They all had horror stories to tell, and rarely told them or spoke of them.

So Ali took on this cause, he gathered these children and formed a nameless soccer team, he begged and borrowed money to pay for playing fees and scrounged up T-shirts and shorts for uniforms. He used the RISSE vans when he could, which was not all of the time. He is famously devoted to these kids, is a father to many, and a guide and  inspiration. He loves them dearly and defends them ferociously.

Just ask an opposing coach who made racist comments to some of the players at a soccer tournament, Ali came roaring out at the coach like a lion, and we had to guide him outside until he cooled off. The coach, ashen, apologized. Ali is a gentle man, but I wouldn’t want to mess with those kids.

A year or so, Ali met me, and we sort of fell in love with one another, we felt like brothers and became friends.

We had the same idea, how would we helped these kids, they had come a long way, but still faced enormous problems, from taunting at school as immigration becomes a political issue to be exploited, to struggles with fees, clothes and  transportation. We have little patience for bureaucracy or red tape, we move quickly and are effective.

It is the most satisfying and important work of my life, and I am proud to work with Ali, a man of great heart and conscience.

I introduced Ali and the soccer team to the Army Of Good, and them to it. The rest is a happy history. We got new  uniforms for the players, which they designed. We got a merchant to donate sneakers.

We paid for tournament fees so they could practice all winter, like their opponents. We paid practice fees to a local gym. We got clothes to the players who needed them, art supplies to those with artistic tendencies, we bought dinners at Asian restaurant buffets to celebrate victories, and paid for retreats so the players could get out of the city on weekends and talk to one another and cement their relationships.

We made it possible for these children to see Star Wars, and the Black Panther, and go to amusement parks and trips and boat rides. We hope to offer them balanced lives, strengthen their confidence and sense of community.

Through these children, we met needy parents and brought them groceries, clothes for their kids, helped with security deposits and some car insurance fees so the mothers could be mobile and find work. We sent them to the Great Escape Amusement Park (I hope to do that again this year).

The biggest headache for Ali, who is available to these kids every day of the week, was transportation. The RISSE vans were busy, they had many uses, and it was never certain when they might be available. Ali was limited in the places he could take these kids in vans operated by RISSE.

I can see that Ali has done a remarkable job with these soccer players, most of whom are men (the women players do not like to be photographed or play too often or travel with boys). They are courteous, empathetic and disciplined. They stay away from trouble, are working hard at school, and are devoted to the teamwork and community involved in a soccer team. And they are devoted to Ali, who they all call “Mr. Ali,” and to one another.

So last week, another way to support these children and their lives. I gave Ali enough money for a first down payment on a 2006 Odyssey van. I need to say I gave him $2,500 of my own money, I did not fund raise for it because it needed to be purchased quickly and I don’t spent any money on anything major that I haven’t disclosed or sought.

I didn’t have time to ask for support. I do not normally disclose donations of my own money, I needed to do it this time. I don’t make large expenditures without sharing the need.

I don’t want or seek any money for the van, it is something I really wanted to do. I’m proud to do this.  It feels better than good.

There were two additional payments of $500 each and I gave Ali a check for the last payment today. The van is his and theirs.

it is in the photograph above. It is in great shape with new tires.

We will use it this coming week to bring groceries to one of the families of a soccer player, they are struggling. We will also  use it to go to our first tutoring class, six of the players need English-As-A-Second Language (ELS) tutoring and I’ve located a tutor who is experienced in that field and eager to work with these kids.

it will also go to regular soccer practice and soon, official games. The team is well equipped. Next week, I’ll deliver the T-shirts and headbands I bought for them.

She will meet them all this coming Wednesday and we will figure out how to proceed.

The van will be used to help other refugees in need, not just the soccer team. But we will choose wisely and carefully. We can’t help everyone, and we can’t help anyone all of the time.

We help where there is no other help available, and where it makes a difference. We commit small acts of great kindness, thoughtfully and cautiously.

It will give Ali and me the chance to work together to provide limited and bounded support – help with groceries, deposits, license fees, some clothes – to refugees in particular need. Like Saad, a Syrian refugee who worked with the United States Embassy during the war and has been targeted by religious extremists and had to flee.

He needed $400 to pay a deposit fee for an apartment in a senior citizen building. He was desperate. We will help him get  settled and on his feet.

The van is liberating, it marks a new chapter in this very worthwhile cause and gives us much flexibility.

I thank so many of your for your support, without which we could offer very little help. I see that many refugees come out of camps and traumas and disasters and are essentially abandoned her with little support. And what support there was is being curtailed and eliminated.

The hate campaign against refugees is hateful and painful to me, I deal with this awful turn in our culture by trying to do some good every day, rather than argue and hate.

So thank you for helping me preserve what I believe is the true soul of our country.

You can support this work by sending a contribution to The Gus Fund, c/o Jon Katz, P.O. Box 205, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816 or via Paypal, [email protected]. We have about $1,600 in the fund that supports the refugee and Mansion work. Every penny of it will go to support the refugees and the Mansion residents, and if you have a preference, please state it on your check.

My Army Of Good account is audited every month by a bookkeeper and a certified account from New York City. Every penny goes where it is supposed to go.

Today, two worlds close to my heart converged and collided, The refugee soccer team from Albany – the Albany Warriors – came to White Creek, N.Y., to give Ed good wishes and some hugs. They came to the farm last summer, and the Gulleys gave them the full tour of Bejosh Farm, a full-blooded dairy farm.

When the kids read on my blog that Ed was sick, they asked me right away if they could visit him. They remembered his hospitality (lots of ice cream), the cows and calves, his dogs and old sheep. So they drove down today and spent the afternoon at Bejosh Farm.

it was a very generous thought, especially for kids who have seen plenty of trouble and suffering in their loves, but are able to rise above themselves. They grasp the power of empathy. They are not like anyone in White Creek, but they surely belonged. They did not come her to take our jobs or harm us. There is nothing about these children for any person with a heart to hate.

They reached out across two wildly divergent cultures to show their humanity. We are, in fact, all one.

First, we took them to lunch at the Round House Cafe, then to the Battenkill bookstore where they each picked out a book for themselves or a brother and sister.

Then we drove over to Bejosh Farm.

It was all very much in the spirit of Ed – he showed them a newborn calf, just a few hours old,  talked about farming, talked with Ali about God and miracles, and  shouted over the loud generator that was powering the milk house – his power was knocked out by the same storm that got us.

The kids loved the dogs, they clearly felt a close kinship with Ed and Carol and the farmer, you could almost touch the feeling that passed between them. Ed is like that. So are they.

These are people I love for their generosity, courage and determination to lead meaningful lives. These children proved themselves once again to have great hearts and powerful spirits. They want to come  back and see Ed soon, and he said that would be just fine with him.

I have lots more to say about these wonderful children and also about their wonderful host, I just wanted to put this photo up. See you shortly.