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The Pickford Word

Dear Reader:  Some of our blogs may contain offensive language-- unlike so many blogs, wherein it is the quality of writing which offends the sensibilities.

THE ORLANDO SHOOTING MEMORIAL: IMPRESSIONS

6/15/2016

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By Meg Langford

On June 14th, two days after the shooting, the Pickford Studios crew arrived in Orlando and spent the afternoon at the memorial. 

 
  
I have nothing original to say.

Mourning does not inspire novelty.  

And there is nothing particularly unique about grief.

And as for a description of the actual Orlando shooting memorial itself: it is, tragically, exactly what you picture in your mind’s eye.  It is precisely what we have all come to expect.  We have seen this so many times that its predictability hits you like a sucker punch—if you were foolish enough to expect that this shrine might be any different.

Fifty souls dead from a mass shooting do not exactly prompt fresh, new ideas.

And that truth is, strangely enough, both enraging and comforting. 
Enraging because we have had this conversation about a hundred times too many times.  
But comforting because that unoriginal, unifying feeling—the sense that everybody around you is feeling the same thing that you are feeling—is about the only thing that makes all of this bearable.  You are not alone.  They are not alone.  We are not alone. 
 
That said, here are my impressions of the Orlando memorial.

The air is palpable here, and it drapes over you and around you like a heavy woolen quilt.  And I have made enough trips to Florida to know that this is much more than the miserable humidity.  There is something else hanging in the atmosphere.  I will not be so “out there” as to suggest that it might be ghosts or spirits, although I suppose that is a possibility.  Nor will I assert that it is some collective negative energy; so much pain felt by so many in one small contained place—be it the agony of the victims, or the heartbreak of the survivors—that such emotional turmoil might surely creative a collective energy of its own, one that can be sensed even by strangers visiting to pay their respects.  But I cannot claim with certainty that it is dark energy, either.   However, I do know this, with utter certainty.  For everybody around me now, today, and for every person who visits this memorial, it so crystal clear to all of us, just how much raw pain has been experienced here, and I believe that the sheer knowledge of that creates this invisible weight.

As for everything else?  It is, as I said, wrenchingly predictable:  lots of rainbows.  Thousands of flowers, in hundreds of bouquets.  Stuffed toys.  Candles.  Pictures.  Prayers.  Secret messages to the dead, shared with the living. And then, the odds and ends.  How could one look on these things without getting choked up?  Toys.  Favorite T-shirts.  A CD.  A cold beverage.  Perhaps my favorite—a giant disco ball.  

The presence of children here is particularly chilling.  It may seem to some like a strange thing to do—to bring small children to a place of so much death and mourning.  But you can hear the conversations, and clearly, there are many parents who have decided that children are never too young to start hearing about the horrible wages of hate.  And some children are here for more than that.   I mentioned that there were rainbows.  There is more than one memorial; there are three really.  And one of them started as a large rainbow ribbon, a giant recreation of the lapel ribbons.  It is probably twenty feet long.  But perhaps most touching is the rainbow chain.  Large, long strips of colorful paper sit in stacks next to a row of Sharpies and double-sided tape.  Mourners write their thoughts on a strip, loop it through the end of the chain, and tape it, making the chain one message longer, one heart stronger.  Maybe 70 feet long now?  It seemed urgent to get one’s feelings out.  I am sure this will end up in a museum, as part of a memorial.  I sit down next to a little girl, about ten, who is hoarding the glitter markers and taking her time.  She looks up, reads my question in my face.   “My cousin,” she says, “I cried for a long time.”  And then she goes back to writing her glitter message.
 
But there is one sight that is more compelling than anything else:  a big man in an orange t-shirt sits cross-legged on the ground, staring at a picture. It is a photograph of Amanda Alvear, a beautiful young lady.  Really, to me, she is more of a girl.  Younger than springtime, from the looks of her picture.  She smiles out of the gold frame.  I sit with him.  He tells me she was his best friend.  His body racks with sobs.  After a few moments, I leave him to his private grief, but I notice that over the next hour, many people see him sobbing, and sit down next to him to hug him, give him comfort.  And yet, I find myself embarrassingly aware of this sad fact:  it is we who need him, more than he needs us.  Because everything here—the pretty flowers, the warm glow of the candles, the colorful toys, the personal chachkies, and of course, the abundance of rainbows—seem, counterintuitively, all about life and love and happiness.  And while many messages here talk about strength and survival, and love outweighing hate (#OrlandoStrong), this is fundamentally a place that is all about death.   And it is such a deluge of deaths, so horribly wrought, brought to so many who were so young, that none of us can quite believe this is real. 

But the sobbing man in the orange shirt makes it real.  This, he has done for us.

And my last thoughts of the day were—ironically, eerily—presaged by Harvey Milk, the first openly gay politician elected in California, only to be shot down in the San Francisco City Hall by a sick and hateful man.  It was as though Harvey Milk could hear echoes thrown back from the future, of an endless debate that shows no sign of abating:

“It takes no compromise to give people their rights...it takes no money to respect the individual. It takes no political deal to give people freedom. It takes no survey to remove repression.”               ― Harvey Milk
 
We suspect that the shooter might have committed this unthinkable act because he lived with people, and in a culture, that does not accept homosexuality—and that the unnecessarily and arbitrarily imposed fear and shame which the shooter may have felt, and lived with every day of his life, might very possibly haven driven him to this.  And the pain of that possibility is almost unbearable, especially in light of the fact that so many families of the victims had lovingly accepted the fact that their loved ones were gay.  Partners were accepted, human beings could walk in truth, and life was celebrated all the more fully. 

We know that the public conversation prompted by this is acrimonious and complicated.  We know that legislation is urgent.  We know that steps must be taken to protect all citizens, in one united nation.   But the more important lesson of today, of this trip to Orlando, of this trip to this tragic shrine, is that it takes no law to be kind.  It takes no Executive Order to be tolerant.  It takes no act of Congress to show compassion. 

We must only make up our minds and our hearts to do so.  And I can tell you, after today, that when we do that—that is the best part of us.  That is the most magnificent height to which our species ever can or ever will climb.  And for what it is worth, there are 49 angels watching, waiting. 
And their expectations are high.
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BAD GOLDFISH.  SHAME ON GOLDFISH.                  SQUIRREL!

6/13/2016

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By Mickey McClain 

“If a bullet should enter my brain, let that bullet destroy every closet door.”

--Harvey Milk.  Member San Francisco Board of Supervisors.   First openly gay person to be elected to office in California.  Assassinated November 27th, 1978.   (From a tape recording (1977-11-18) to be played in the event of his assassination.  See Wikiquote.)
                                  
 
​First, who gets a pass?

Here is who gets a pass:  the hundreds of people lined up the morning after the Orlando shooting to give blood, for the victims of the nightmare. 

That’s who gets a pass.

Other than that, what I have to say, I have said before, and I suspect, with more panache.  Because the second time around never has quite the same magic.

But here goes:  I know you feel bad.  I feel bad.  The whole country feels bad.   Any person on the planet who has any compassion for gays, in fact for humanity writ large, feels bad.

But the only question, the only question that matters is what are you going to do about it?

Since 75 percent of you reading this are too busy to volunteer for anything, that answer is nothing.  And no, placing the rainbow flag over your stupid Facebook avatar doesn’t do any lasting good.  Because while yes, I get a warm and fuzzy feeling from seeing buildings all lit up in Dorothy colors, the fact is, all of that will last for a few brief days, and then three-fourths of us will go back to our self-absorbed lives, spending an appallingly large part of it (20 to 40 hours a week, depending on your age) swimming the waters of the web with our goldfish attention spans.  Did you know it’s down by one second, from the last study?  We now have attention spans of about eight seconds.  Of course, that means I’ve already lost you.  Damn.

It is this simple:  if you aren’t volunteering, you are doing nothing to ease the suffering of strangers. 
And that makes you part of the problem.

Look, if you saw a puppy, injured by a car, right in front of your house, you would do something about it, right?  Well, news flash.  Millions of animals are suffering right now, as I write this, and there are things you can do about it.  Even online things.  But 3/4ths of you don’t.

And if you saw an old person wandering in the cold, ambling into your backyard, obviously disoriented and frightened and shivering, wouldn’t you take them by the hand and find out where they belong?  Well, you can help that person.  Of course, you could also just let him keep wandering, like a Georgia deputy did.  Or you could shoot that old person dead, like Joe Hendrix did.  But that is another blogpost all together.  I suspect that what you would do, is invite them into your home for hot chocolate, and keep calling the authorities until you found out where that sweet old coot belonged.  And maybe, just maybe, you would visit him from time to time in the future, because it’s the right thing to do. 

​And, returning to the victims of Orlando—and a segment of society that faces a seemingly endless barrage of intolerance and hate—if you saw a young gay person, standing on the bridge, ready to jump, because their parents had disowned them, wouldn’t you try to talk them off of the bridge?  Of course you would.  In fact, if you saw any person ready to jump to their death, you would try to stop them.

Well guess what, you can:
The Trevor Project is just one of a bounty of volunteering opportunities which allows you to help suicidal young people from your own La-Z-Boy.  So why don’t you?    http://www.thetrevorproject.org/pages/volunteer 
Or you could do your part to help victims of cyber-bullying, even if you are a teenager:  http://www.volunteermatch.org/search/org266522.jsp#more_info_tab   
Or you could help set up live, streaming events for the LGBTQ community.  http://www.volunteermatch.org/search/opp2306085.jsp.   And as a person who has lived in some very tiny towns in some very remote places, I can assure you that many of these people, particularly the young people, feel very isolated and afraid. 
Or take advantage of your love for snapping pictures.  Document the fight.  Document the victories.  Document the celebration.  Document the joy:  http://www.volunteermatch.org/search/opp2371077.jsp
About one million children, kicked out of their homes by their parents when they came out as gay, spent last night on the streets, terrified, hungry, and poised to be victims of God knows what unthinkable horrors.  They would probably love a warm bath, a hot meal, and in a few months, just about any place that doesn’t drop to below freezing at night.   Help them find that safe haven:  http://nationalhomeless.org/taking-action/volunteer/
The list of volunteering opportunities is endless.
The LGBT Foundation is looking:  http://lgbt.foundation/Take-Action/volunteer-with-the-lgf/our-volunteering-opportunities/
GLAAD is looking:  http://www.glaad.org/getinvolved/volunteer
And Matthew Shepard’s mother has, for nearly two decades now, found a way to turn tragedy into action.  The Matthew Shepard Foundation is always looking for volunteers:  http://www.matthewshepard.org/volunteer/
Or how about this?  Since in some horrible countries, their way of dealing with gays is to hurl them from tall buildings  perhaps you could consider volunteering for Amnesty International:  http://www.amnestyusa.org/get-involved/volunteer-positions-and-resources

So let’s cut to the chase.  Millions of you out there could do your part to lessen the pain in the world.   But you CHOOSE not to.  And that is the operative word.  CHOOSE.  Every day, every week, every year, you make a CHOICE as to how you should best spend your time.  And you CHOOSE to surf the web.  When the irony is, more and more opportunities involve just that—you sit in the comfort of your own home, and volunteer online.
 
But make no mistake.  If there is suffering out there, no matter what the cause or who the victim, if you are not doing your part to ease their pain, you are part of the problem.  And you can get as angry as me as you want.  But you can’t change that awkward, awful, agonizing truth.
Now, as for the puppies and the seniors, and all the countless causes and millions of souls who need your help—well, don’t get me started.  That’s for another time.
For now, let’s make it about Orlando.  About people who were targeted because of whom they chose to love …

So let’s all decide, shall we?
 
"When I was in the military, they gave me a medal for killing two men and a discharge for loving one."   --Written on the tombstone of Leonard Matlovich, gay activist.
 
MORE READING ON THIS SUBJECT:
http://www.moviesforyourmind.net/pickford-word/category/paris-attacks
http://www.moviesforyourmind.net/pickford-word/category/san-bernadino
 
 
 
MILK IS GOOD FOR YOUR BONES.  AND YOUR SOUL.
--The following quotes by Harvey Milk:
 
“Let's make no mistake about this: The American Dream starts with the neighborhoods. If we wish to rebuild our cities, we must first rebuild our neighborhoods. And to do that, we must understand that the quality of life is more important than the standard of living. To sit on the front steps--whether it's a veranda in a small town or a concrete stoop in a big city--and to talk to our neighborhoods is infinitely more important than to huddle on the living-room lounger and watch a make-believe world in not-quite living color.” 

“And I hardly need to tell you that in the 19- or 24-inch view of the world, cleanliness has long since eclipsed godliness. Soon we'll all smell, look, and actually be laboratory clean, as sterile on the inside as on the out. The perfect consumer, surrounded by the latest appliances. The perfect audience, with a ringside seat to almost any event in the world, without smell, without taste, without feel--alone and unhappy in the vast wasteland of our living rooms. I think that what we actually need, of course, is a little more dirt on the seat of our pants as we sit on the front stoop and talk to our neighbors once again, enjoying the type of summer day where the smell of garlic travels slightly faster than the speed of sound.” 

“Every gay person must come out. As difficult as it is, you must tell your immediate family. You must tell your relatives. You must tell your friends if indeed they are your friends. You must tell the people you work with. You must tell the people in the stores you shop in. Once they realize that we are indeed their children, that we are indeed everywhere, every myth, every lie, every innuendo will be destroyed once and all. And once you do, you will feel so much better” 

“I would like to see every gay doctor come out, every gay lawyer, every gay architect come out, stand up and let that world know. That would do more to end prejudice overnight than anybody would I urge them to do that, urge them to come out. Only that way will we start to achieve our rights.”

“Let me have my tax money go for my protection and not for my prosecution. Let my tax money go for the protection of me. Protect my home, protect my streets, protect my car, protect my life, protect my property...worry about becoming a human being and not about how you can prevent others from enjoying their lives because of your own inability to adjust to life.” 

― Harvey Milk

“The only thing they have to look forward to is hope. And you have to give them hope. Hope for a better world, hope for a better tomorrow, hope for a better place to come to if the pressures at home are too great. Hope that all will be all right. Without hope, not only gays, but the blacks, the seniors, the handicapped, the us'es, the us'es will give up. And if you help elect to the central committee and other offices, more gay people, that gives a green light to all who feel disenfranchised, a green light to move forward. It means hope to a nation that has given up, because if a gay person makes it, the doors are open to everyone.  So if there is a message I have to give, it is that if I've found one overriding thing about my personal election, it's the fact that if a gay person can be elected, it's a green light. And you and you and you, you have to give people hope....”    

                                                                                   ***

EXCERPT FROM THE SEAN HANNITY SHOW
HANNITY:  “Should gay people be stoned to death?”
IMAM ANJEM CHAUDARY:  Homosexuality and bestiality, they are your way of life, under the Islamic state, people will not be doing this in the Islamic community, if they do, there will be punishment.”

                                                                                    ***


“The fact is that more people have been slaughtered in the name of religion than for any other single reason. That, that my friends, is true perversion.”  --HARVEY MILK

“The other aspect of this tape is the business of what should happen if there is an assassination.  I cannot prevent some people from feeling angry and frustrated and mad, but I hope they will take that frustration and that madness and instead of demonstrating or anything of that type, I would hope they would take the power and I would hope that five, ten, one hundred, a thousand would rise. I would like to see every gay doctor come out, every gay lawyer, every gay architect come out, stand up and let that world know. That would do more to end prejudice overnight than anybody would imagine. I urge them to do that, urge them to come out. Only that way will we start to achieve our rights.”     (From a tape recording (1977-11-18) to be played in the event of his assassination, quoted in Randy Shilts, The Mayor of Castro Street: The Life and Times of Harvey Milk (1982), pp. 276-277)
“HOPE WILL NEVER BE SILENT.”  -Milk
​
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