The Starfish

A glass starfish we found serendipitously at the fair after church on Sunday

There was a man--or it could have been a woman, in this case it doesn't matter-- walking on a long, empty, and beautiful beach one morning.  Before him, he saw a child dancing on the sand, swinging her arms (or "his" arms, if you like) back and forth.  As the man approached the girl, he saw that she was not dancing but bending down to pick up a starfish and throw it into the water.  There were thousands of starfish beached on the sand, as far as the man could see.  The man said to the girl, "What are you doing?" and she replied, "If they stay too long in the sun, they will die.  So I'm sending them back out to sea."  He said, "But there are so many.  You can't save them all.  You won't make any difference."  And the girl looked at the man and looked at the starfish in her hand, thought for a moment with her face all scrunched up.  Then she threw the starfish into the sea.

"Made a difference to that one!" she replied.

Soon, others heard of the girl's efforts and many people came to the beach to help.  And thousands of starfish were saved.

This was the lesson told at church on Sunday, a popular tale in Unitarian Universalist services that I had heard before.  But the timing couldn't have been better.  There is unrest in our nation, and our wold, anger, sadness, despair even.  The murder of black men by police officers, terrorist bombings in Chelsea, and, since Sunday, yet another school shooting.  The water is not clean in many cities, particularly Flint; the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe attempts to protect its water supply from a pipeline but is opposed by Big Business.  There is war, murder, rape, torture.  65 million displaced persons in the world.  100,000 children being bombed in Aleppo.  And there is a man running for president of our country who prides himself on his racism, homophobia, isolationism, sexism, who quotes Mussolini and befriends Putin, all the while lying and obfuscating to drum up support for his walls and deportations and "law and order."

What can I do?  What in the world can I do?  I'm tired of the "thoughts and prayers" that are posted--that I post--after shootings and bombings.  I'm tired of the "we'll love better" mentality that says if we only love stronger and broader that we can overcome all; we can outlove the haters.  Better yet, we should love the haters.  Okay, yes, sure.  Thoughts, prayers, love.

But action, too. Except, what can I possibly do?  I've often heard that everyone can't do everything so pick a cause and work on it--pick up that starfish--the environment, gun control, education, Black Lives Matter, Habitat for Humanity.  All of those are good.  Which one is for me?  For my family?  How do we introduce children to social action without scaring or worrying them to much?  How do we avoid compassion fatigue?  No one likes to think too long of extinct panda bears; sixty-five million people are so many to save.  

Breathe.

One starfish at a time.

Hospice, Girl Scouts, lay ministry, money for Hillary, cans of food for the food drive, donations to the Juvenile Diabetes Foundation, lemonade stand for autism awareness.  Keep going, spread the word, pick up just one more starfish.

We can each make a difference.  Even if it really all seems impossible.  Sometimes, you're tired of bending over; sometimes the number of starfish is too overwhelming.  So don't look just at the entire beach of starfish despairingly; look at the one you send sailing back out to sea, rejoice that it will live, and enjoy the morning on the beach.  Sometimes, it helps if you dance a little.  

Allegiance

We took a break from our kitty hospice here (we had someone feed the patient, though) and went into the city last night to see Allegiance, the musical about Japanese-American internment camps during WWII inspired by the life story of actor and cultural icon George Takei.  We had been on the fence about going anytime soon, but the closing of the show was announced and I realized how much I wanted to see it, especially after a few friends really recommended it.  So, Mama found this great opportunity through her audience rewards membership (for frequent Broadway attendees, and we're not all that frequent) to attend a Q&A with the tree main cast members, George Takei, Lea Salonga, and Telly Leung.

Musically and structurally, it is not the strongest of shows--I've seen worse (Whistle Down the Wind, anyone?)--but emotionally it was extremely powerful, especially in light of current world events with Syrian refugees and the vitriol spewed against them (and Mexicans and Muslims and women and people with disabilities) by Trump.  The musical follows one Japanese-American family's experiences and reactions to its experiences when they are incarcerated in miserable circumstances after Pearl Harbor; the son is very patriotic and joins the Army but the daughter comes to resist the internment, pulling their family apart and separating them for the rest of their lives.  Gaman, a Japanese word from Zen Buddhism meaning "to face the unbearable with dignity and patience"--a kind of mindfulness in the face of crisis--is a key tenet (and song.)  The show also addresses the worth and dignity of all human life, the importance of social justice, the scourge of racism, difficult decisions in times of war, standing up for one's beliefs, the nature of loyalty and allegiance; you could say it's a very Unitarian Universalist musical.  But it doesn't give easy answers--both the patriotic son, the resistant daughter, and ancillary characters are often sympathetic--and, even though there is a technically happy ending (when the now aged son is reunited with his niece), as Bud put it, "it wasn't a very happy show."

The performances were marvelous, though.  Takei, of course, is best known for Star Trek and his work as a gay rights advocate and now leading cultural figure.  He was in turn funny as the old grandfather and touchingly tragic as the aged Army soldier son.  Salonga, whom Mama saw in Miss Saigon some 22 years ago, has an amazing voice and sings many of the show's most touching songs.  And Leung was an exuberant and then devastated young man.

Best yet, we got to hear from all three of them after the show!   It was fascinating to hear them talk about the different iterations of the show. Apparently at some point there were two brothers and no sister, a mama, the nurse was actually just the daughter of the warden, Sammy was a minor character with asthma who only had one song. Leung talked about all the changes in the six years he's been with the workshop and the show. Salonga talked about how her Chinese-Japanese husband has relatives who managed not to be sent to camps because they moved to Colorado where the governor refused to lock anyone up. And of course Takei talked about the seat he is leaving open for Trump  to come learn about the very real effects of discrimination and racism in our world today (Trump even recently said he would have supported the camps during WWII.)  I saw the seat--it was down the row from us during the talk-back--and it had remained empty.  It wasn't very long, but it added an extra-dimension to the narrative and to our understanding of the process of the creation of musical.  

On another note, beyond my beliefs in social justice and anti-racism and my appreciation for Takei's work (I've donated to Takei's legacy project), I was just so glad to see a musical about, created by, and performed by a mostly Asian team.  No other show has that.  And with my two half-Asian children, it's very important to me that they see beyond stereotypes (of Asian doctors, science geeks, straight A+ students, prodigy violinists, and wimpy conformists who always follow the rules) and also that they see strong role models standing up for what's right in the world.  

And so, while I can't hum any of the songs this morning, the story and images will stick with me for a long time.

-=-=-=-=-

I'm going to try, later, to fold the origami flower that played such a role in the show.