My dead cousin and "Hotel Rwanda" ...
I've debated about making this a public post, as it really has nothing to do with The Daily Rhythm's renewed purpose, but it does have some relevance with the whole "pathos"-aspect of my writing.
I was talking with angie_o earlier today and told her about my cousin who recently passed away.
His name was Buka Blue Thunder.
This was as it was told to me ...
Since [our] Grandma Edna [one of the grandmas who basically raised him and his siblings] died a couple of years ago, he and his sisters and cousins started drinking on a regular basis. Which is sad, because the Blue Thunder wing of my family is fairly upstanding. Buka and Julie [his sister] were the traditional kids in their respective classes. They danced at pow wows, spoke the language and practiced the religion/philosophy, so it was a bit of sad that they fell so publicly.
In any case, they were boozing it up at the Rosebud Casino last night.
There was a fight and Buka's cousins left him there. Following that, he was kicked out. So he started walking ... in the snow. Rosebud Casino is about 20 miles south of Mission, Todd County's largest town. He made it five miles south of Mission and went to a grove of trees and died in the cold.
It concerns me that I couldn't summon enough sympathy to say anything other than, "Oh" to my mother as she tole me the news, crying. But I must remember that she, my brother and I are basically odd ducks in that we have extremely delayed reaction.
On the flip-side ...
At the flea-market today, my mom bought "Hotel Rwanda" and I was excited about watching it. Usually, I watch a movie in an actual theater about two or three times a year. I'd meant to see it, but time goes by and boom, it's 2007.
Then I popped it into the DVD player. Ten minutes later, I've started regretting my decision.
I have this thing. It's hard for me to sympathize with individuals.
But get me witnessing or seeing an act involving masses of people or perfect strangers and I'm choking up like it's going out of style.
Don't believe me? Here's some hearsay evidence:
1. While at The Castro about three weeks ago, I saw this lady turn a corner while pedestrians were walking. She honked and one guy yelled, "Learn how to drive, bitch!" as he slammed his hand down on the trunk of her car while another got into a shouting match with her as they exchanged, "Fuck off!" about four times. This kind of put me in a dour mood for about three hours. Basically she was in the wrong, but my own experience in not noticing pedestrians got me sympathizing with her, about how it would put her in a mood for the rest of the day, how she might think gays were entitled and so on. On the flip-side, I started thinking about how the walkers would think that she was indeed a bitch and should have her license revoked, her children [if she had any] taken away from her, et cetera.
2. Today at the flea-market, a white vendor got into a shouting match with a Hispanic customer. He told the Hispanic gentlemen that, "this is America! Not Mexico!" While the Hispanic man started telling him to "fuck off" and "You sure hate Mexicans, but you love our money!"
3. Tonight's "This American Life" theme was, "Kid Logic."
In one story, a guy was explaining to his daughter who Jesus was, what he preached and that he was killed. Then, Martin Luther King, Jr. Day came and he began explaining to his daughter who he was and what he preached.
Then, his daughter asked, "Did they kill him too?"
That got me.
4. Watching "Hotel Rwanda" is making my eyes leak a little bit and causing a lump in my throat.
I'm slowly realizing that it goes back to my Christian education and Buddhist study that I get upset about discord.
When those things happen, it reminds me that those involved are not able to see each other as human.
They cannot identify or refuse to accept commonality and realize that inflicting suffering is something that only begets more suffering. And there is enough misery in the world.
And that's where I need to start in mourning my cousin. To realize that despite the circumstances of his death, the world lost something with his death. Even if that something was important just to me.
Or maybe at best, I am "a delicate flower" and at worst, I am just a damn pussy.
I was talking with angie_o earlier today and told her about my cousin who recently passed away.
His name was Buka Blue Thunder.
This was as it was told to me ...
Since [our] Grandma Edna [one of the grandmas who basically raised him and his siblings] died a couple of years ago, he and his sisters and cousins started drinking on a regular basis. Which is sad, because the Blue Thunder wing of my family is fairly upstanding. Buka and Julie [his sister] were the traditional kids in their respective classes. They danced at pow wows, spoke the language and practiced the religion/philosophy, so it was a bit of sad that they fell so publicly.
In any case, they were boozing it up at the Rosebud Casino last night.
There was a fight and Buka's cousins left him there. Following that, he was kicked out. So he started walking ... in the snow. Rosebud Casino is about 20 miles south of Mission, Todd County's largest town. He made it five miles south of Mission and went to a grove of trees and died in the cold.
It concerns me that I couldn't summon enough sympathy to say anything other than, "Oh" to my mother as she tole me the news, crying. But I must remember that she, my brother and I are basically odd ducks in that we have extremely delayed reaction.
On the flip-side ...
At the flea-market today, my mom bought "Hotel Rwanda" and I was excited about watching it. Usually, I watch a movie in an actual theater about two or three times a year. I'd meant to see it, but time goes by and boom, it's 2007.
Then I popped it into the DVD player. Ten minutes later, I've started regretting my decision.
I have this thing. It's hard for me to sympathize with individuals.
But get me witnessing or seeing an act involving masses of people or perfect strangers and I'm choking up like it's going out of style.
Don't believe me? Here's some hearsay evidence:
1. While at The Castro about three weeks ago, I saw this lady turn a corner while pedestrians were walking. She honked and one guy yelled, "Learn how to drive, bitch!" as he slammed his hand down on the trunk of her car while another got into a shouting match with her as they exchanged, "Fuck off!" about four times. This kind of put me in a dour mood for about three hours. Basically she was in the wrong, but my own experience in not noticing pedestrians got me sympathizing with her, about how it would put her in a mood for the rest of the day, how she might think gays were entitled and so on. On the flip-side, I started thinking about how the walkers would think that she was indeed a bitch and should have her license revoked, her children [if she had any] taken away from her, et cetera.
2. Today at the flea-market, a white vendor got into a shouting match with a Hispanic customer. He told the Hispanic gentlemen that, "this is America! Not Mexico!" While the Hispanic man started telling him to "fuck off" and "You sure hate Mexicans, but you love our money!"
3. Tonight's "This American Life" theme was, "Kid Logic."
In one story, a guy was explaining to his daughter who Jesus was, what he preached and that he was killed. Then, Martin Luther King, Jr. Day came and he began explaining to his daughter who he was and what he preached.
Then, his daughter asked, "Did they kill him too?"
That got me.
4. Watching "Hotel Rwanda" is making my eyes leak a little bit and causing a lump in my throat.
I'm slowly realizing that it goes back to my Christian education and Buddhist study that I get upset about discord.
When those things happen, it reminds me that those involved are not able to see each other as human.
They cannot identify or refuse to accept commonality and realize that inflicting suffering is something that only begets more suffering. And there is enough misery in the world.
And that's where I need to start in mourning my cousin. To realize that despite the circumstances of his death, the world lost something with his death. Even if that something was important just to me.
Or maybe at best, I am "a delicate flower" and at worst, I am just a damn pussy.