Day: May 9, 2018

I was taking photos at RISSE one afternoon, talking to the kids who are students there in the after school program and admiring the great dedication and gentleness of the teachers there. One of the students, a very young woman from Afghanistan, came up to me and pulled at my shirtsleeve. “Why are you here?,” she asked me.

RISSE, like many refugee centers and communities, is not always an easy place for strangers to be.  It was a long and hard road to get in the door, and to stay there.

The people there have been through a lot, are justifiably wary, especially as  their new country struggles once more to come to terms with its refugee and immigrant history.

It is an eternal struggle, really, this business of the other coming into our world, and growing up the grandson of Jewish refugees, I felt it acutely at RISSE.  This immigrant thing will never go away, will never be fully resolved. It swings from one side to the other and back.

I think no one except my friend Ali really understood why I was there, and was so preoccupied with this new and bitter conflict, and jumped into it so completely.

I think it began when I realized that so many Americans had come to hate and fear the immigrant idea, they felt these people had come to take something away from them, their jobs, their culture, even their lives. I think I became a patriot the day our President attacked the immigrants, suggesting many were criminals, rapists and murders. That they were not the best people.

I am not a hater, I don’t live in the world of left and the right, but my heart is with the  refugees,  my idea was not to hate our new President or his supporters – we must be friends, not enemies if we are to survive together – but to work for what I saw was the soul of my country.

My better angels were calling out to me. When I look at this photo of Saad, sitting alone in his apartment,  I  hear the call. I want to help save the soul of America, and in so doing, save my own.

This was the first time I really thought about patriotism in my life, I had no reason to consider it, really, much before 2016, I had always been free to do what I wished with my life and taken this freedom for granted, even though my grandparents never did.

I don’t take it for granted any more. Of all of our Presidents, I’ve always thought of Lincoln as being the strongest moral leader, so it was no surprise that they had to kill him. Moral leaders are the dread of ideologues and fanatics, their morality is unbearable and threatening, and they must be struck down.

When he spoke to the veterans from Ohio returning from battle in the Civil War, Lincoln was direct: “It is in order,” he said, “that each one of you may have, through this free government which we have enjoyed, an open field, and a fair chance for your industry, enterprise, and intelligence that  you may all have equal privileges in the  race of life with all its desirable human aspirations – it is for this that the struggle should be maintained..”

I didn’t tell the girl this, because I think she was too young to grasp it, but i got involved in this business of doing good because I love that idea of the open field where everyone has a fair chance to be what they most wish to be. That was a new idea in the world when America embraced it, and it is still a rare thing. This is why the refugees and immigrants fight to hard to get here, and in so many cases, thrive here. They  are here because they want to be here, not because they want to hurt what “here” is.

So that’s why i got involved with the Army Of good and the Mansion residents and the refugees and with Saad.

He always loved America, he risked his life to work for Americans during the Iraq war, the only place he ever wanted to come was here. And for all his misery and  struggle and  isolation, he is content to be here, he is without complaint or bitterness or resentment of any kind.

“For all of our darker impulses,” writes historian and biographer Jon Beacham in   his powerful new book “The Soul Of America,”for all of our shortcomings and for all of the dreams denied and deferred, the experiment begun so long ago, carried out so imperfectly, is worth the fight. There is, in fact, no struggle more important, and none nobler, than the one we  wage in the service of those  better angels who, however besieged, are always ready for battle.”

So that’s why I was in Saad’s important today, determined to hell him, an old man suddenly thrust to the other side of the world alone, to  get to the Open Field that my family were so lucky to have in America. And just run.

I’m betting on the better angels, they have the better idea.

Saad moved into his new apartment in a huge senior citizen apartment complex just outside fo Albany last week, he likes his apartment  very much – it is his first real home since fleeing religious extremists in Baghdad more than a year ago. He has lost every single thing  but his own life, and he nearly lost that.

Saad has endured a lot on his journey to America from Baghdad.

He lived in a one room apartment in Los Angeles with two other refugees, and had to leave Los Angeles, it was too expensive and his apartment was being turned into condos. He came to Albany and slept on the floor of another one room apartment until it too, was sold, and he was desperate to find another apartment. .

Saad now receives a stipend every month from Albany.

He has enough money each month to pay for his apartment – the rent is $244, – but not for too much else. In this work, we think small and keep our expectations low, but I recognize that Saad will need some  help for some time. He has absolutely nothing of his own.

Our own resources are limited, but we can help him gradually and thoughtfully to fill out some of the gaping holes in his life.

I was interested to see 15 different prescriptions lined up in plastic pill containers and also struck by the spareness of his apartment and the sense of loneliness and isolation in his life. He has no friends here, no family.

Saad has heart disease, diabetes and low blood pressure, yet he still talks of finding a job.

His believes he suffers greatly  stress and the uncertainty of his life, and the loss of his family.  His days are empty, there is nothing to do in his apartment. He left eight children and a wife behind in Badhdad, it is unlikely he will see them again any time soon.

We paid for the deposit on the apartment so Saad could move in.

There is absolutely nothing on the walls, and he has no car, cellphone, TV or Internet. We did collect some  furniture from the churches – a bed, a sofa, a wooden table, a second small table for groceries and  personal effects. There is nothing decorative of any kind on any of the walls.

But it feels bare and cold.

More and more, Ali and I are seeing refugees who suffered horribly in their home countries, somehow  made it to America, and have been almost completely abandoned by our government.

The aid to  refugees and immigrants is being slashed and eliminated almost continuously. Many refugees are trapped in this cycle of poverty and assimilation. They have no money, so they can’t buy a car, they have no car, so they can’t go to work or find work. Some have small children, and can’t afford day care, so they can’t go to work. Many families are run by single mothers, the fathers were killed or imprisoned or denied admission to the U.S.

They can’t compile good credit ratings, so they are denied access to many of the things they need.

Ali and I stopped at a grocery store in Albany today and bought Saad fruit, towel paper, toilet paper, toothpaste and a brush, some cereal and frozen fish. Last week, we gave  him $400 for security despots.

So here is the plan Ali and I worked out.

We have to put something on the walls. One friend, a member of the Army Of Good,  is going to buy some wall posters and send them to me. Maria came up with a linen map of Arabia which I will bring him for one of the walls. Another friend, an artist, is offering two of her water colors. He will need some floor lamps.

This afternoon, I ordered a 32 inch Samsung TV for under $200.

We are paying a one month deposit for cable and Wi-Fit to be installed in the apartment. Saad can pay the monthly fees, he just has nothing left over for the deposit. Ali can install the TV and show him how to find the Arabic channels.

Then, he can watch television programming and perhaps re-connect with his culture and country. In Iraq, we know he was successful and prosperous.

I noticed his hands shaking severely every time he tried to lift or move something.

He said he thinks this is low blood pressure, but I don’t think that. We are going to get Saad to a doctor. I  have never seen anyone as alone as Saad is right now.

My mind keeps going back to the loneliiness. There are communities of refugees around Albany, Ali will help to connect Saad with them.

There is no one in his huge apartment complex who speaks Arabic, and the only way he can get out the apartment is to take a bus. We are looking into getting him a free pass for senior citizens, Saad is in his 60’s.

He is taking English lessons at RISSE, the refugee and immigrant support group.

A former U.S. Embassy worker during the war, Saad had to flee Iraq recently when he was targeted by religious extremists for helping the United States. He fled to a UN refugee camp and was brought to the United States. He was given no assistance when he arrived, and has not heard from the federal government since.

He spends all day alone his apartment, sometimes taking the bus  to visit RISSE and get some food. The staff used to find him standing outside in the cold in the morning, trembling.

Saad asked me today if I thought he could get a job driving a car for Uber, he proudly showed me his driver’s license.  But I told him since he spoke no English, and has no car, I didn’t see how it could happen. He could not afford the car, let alone the insurance.

He is eager to work, and is intent on looking. His doctors have told him he should not work. The easiest thing to do is to  get some color into the apartment – paintings, posters, some color and warmth. I can arrange that by next week.

Then the TV, which is coming on May 15  and which will give him something to do and watch in his apartment,  which is safe and comfortable but far from his world.

Then, we will try  to get him a cell phone, hook up the new TV and set him up on the Internet, where he can access the Arabic speaking channels. He has to get his tremors checked out, they are severe. That is all doable and relatively inexpensive. Technology can help connect and reconnect him to people.

Then we’ll stop and reassess. We have to be deliberate, even ruthless, about what we can do. There is a long list of people waiting for help. Ali constantly reminds me of the limits, he has a great feel for the boundaries around this work.

If you want to help us get   Saad acclimated and settled in America, that would be great.

He was loyal to the United States, and has paid dearly for it. There is virtually no chance his family – his eight children – will  be admitted into America under this administration. Officials reported last week that the United States has accepted fewer than 17 Syrian refugees in the past year, out of 5.5 million refugees living in camps due to the civil war there.

Saad must completely rebuild his life here with little support or resources.

We can help him, though, to get stable and off to a good start.  We can help in small ways, fill some of the holes. Then we have to move on. . He says he is grateful to be alive, and grateful for what he has. I understand boundaries only too well.

Saad is independent and doesn’t want anyone to run his life for him. He is a sweet and gentle man caught in many ugly storms of other people’s makings.

If you wish to help with this refugee work, you can send a contribution to the Gus Fund, c/o Jon Katz, Post office box 205, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816., or via Paypal, [email protected]. Please mark it “refugees.”

And thanks for helping Saad.

When I ask myself in all honesty which people in my life mean the most to me, I often answer that it is those who do not give me much advice, offer me solutions, promise me cures, assure me of happiness, make promises to me about life. Those who can say ” I don’t know.”

I choose the friend who shares my pain but does not try to take it from me or steal it. I think of the friend who touches my wounds and pain with a gentle and tender hand.

I think of the friend who can be silent with me in despair, and stay with me times of great sadness or loss, when I feel bereaved in spirit and soul.

I think of the friend who doesn’t have all the answers, who can tolerate not-knowing, not-curing, not-healing, and face with me the reality of my ignorance, my mortality, my powerlessness.

I think that for me, that  is the friend who cares.

This one of my photos I like to look at, it always gives me hope. It’s for sale, $130, unframed, 8 1/2 x 12.5 contact [email protected]

We returned to the deep woods today, our first walk there in months, the harsh and long winter made it impossible for us to talk there. We loved being back, the canopy is just coming into bloom, and I caught the morning sun opening up the sky and lighting up the new leaves.

Before I went out with Maria and the dogs to walk, I began reading a wonderful new book by historian and biographer Jon Meacham. It’s called The Soul Of America: The Battle For Our Better Angels, and I haven’t finished it, but it is beautifully written, fascinating, meticulously researched and inspiring.

I admit that I passionately believe in hope over fear and anger, but Meacham, like all great historians, reminds us that nothing is really new, and the struggle for our national soul has gone on, almost continuously, since the founding of our country. This really is nothing new, as  jarring as it feels.

History, Meacham reminds us, is not a fairy tale. We have almost always been divided, sometimes torn apart. History is more often tragic than comic, people more often behave badly than nobly, our story is full of broken hearts and lives, and broken promises, disappointed hopes and dreams delayed.

But in the American experience, he writes, trouble and conflict have always produced a better nation, and I believe that is happening even now. And it is true, we have survived much worse than this.

“Hope is sustaining,” he wrotes, “fear can be overcome.” The American story – and The Soul Of America –  is the story of how we have endured many moments of madness and injustice, giving the better angels Lincoln spoke of on the eve of the Civil War a chance to prevail. Hope has always overcome fear anger.

And the better angels did prevail.  Meacham believes they will prevail again, and offers very convincing evidence that they will once more.

I should say that Meacham is not an ideological prisoner of the left or the right, he actually thinks,  this is not a partisan book, it is not about how evil Mr. Trump is or how dangerous progressive people are. It is a sort of wake-up call and walk through the real history of America, not the sanitized versions taught in so many schools.

Mostly, we forget our history, turning instead to the horrors of the daily and greedy corporate news machine.

There are a lot of good people in our country, and they have always been willing to fight for their values and beliefs. I know this book to be sound, because I am living it, my better angels have found me, and I have found them, and they have pulled me away from the dark side and into the light.

Aristotle wrote that “the coward, then, is a despairing sort of person; for he (or she)  fears everything. The brave man,  on the other hand, has the opposite disposition; for confidence is the mark of a hopeful disposition.”

According to St. Augustine, “fear is the loss of what  we love.” Thomas Aquinas wrote that “properly speaking, hope regards only the good; in this respect, hope differs from fear, which regards evil.”

I  recommend the book highly, at least so far, but even more, I recommend hope over fear. Only the coward surrenders to despair.

P.S. In this spirit, I’ve decided to sell this photo, titled “Better Angels.” It costs $130 unframed plus shipping and on the highest quality rag paper. You can buy it from Maria ([email protected]) or on her Etsy page. It will be an 8 1/2 by 12 1/2 print.