Police

In the car on the way home from school yesterday, at a confusing intersection, a police officer pleasantly waved for us to go in front of him.

Jordan: Police officers are really nice. You think about them chasing criminals or whatever but whenever I see one, I am really glad they are there. I feel safe. I feel secure.
Rachel: I love that you feel that way. That’s how it should be, because police officers should be some of the most important helpers, and they can do the best job being helpers if we trust them and they trust us. But I want to tell you that part of the reason you feel safe and secure with police officers is an unfair reason.
Jordan: What is that?
Rachel: It’s because you are white.
Jordan: That is horribly unfair.
Rachel: I know. It’s terrible. And the fact is that there have been a lot of very bad things that have happened, where police officers have hurt or even killed Black people who they thought were doing something wrong, only the police were mistaken. Sometimes the police were unfairly suspicious of someone because of their prejudices. Sometimes they shot someone instead of only arresting them. Terrible things have happened.
Aaron: Like that guy that was a woodcarver and the police said he was attacking them with a knife but really it was his woodcarving knife and he was just walking across the street. And they shot him and they killed him for basically no reason.
Rachel: Right. Like that. That was incredibly sad, and completely unfair. And that man was Native American.
Jordan: That should not happen.
Rachel: I know. And I am really sorry to tell you that it happens, not just one or two times but over and over. I bet you can imagine that if you were a Black person, knowing about these terrible things, you might not feel safe or secure with the police.
Jordan: I think the police should protect everyone and be fair to everyone.
Rachel: I would like our family to try and help with the way things are so that that could come true.

I am not very hopeful that conversations like this make a lot of difference; there is so much that is wrong, and talk is cheap, and I am very far from being any kind of effective activist against police brutality. But talking about it has got to be better than not talking about it. I am trying to keep taking advantage of moments that come up, like when this picture understandably caught the kids' attention.

The protester Ieshia Evans being detained in Baton Rouge, La., on July 9, 2016.
Photo by Jonathan Bachman.

And of course the more I learn, the more I see the awful effects of racism (and other systems of unfairness) everywhere, so there are more opportunities to talk.

Camp Kesher haikus

I never blog about Camp Kesher, our annual Jewish family camp over Labor Day weekend, because it is the most unplugged weekend of my year and I love it that way. We rarely even take any photos. We just hang out. It is held at Camp Sealth, on the south shore of Vashon Island, which feels about a thousand miles away from our Seattle life even though it hardly takes any time to get there (half an hour drive to the ferry, half an hour ferry ride, and half an hour drive on the other side). It is quite rustic: the cabins are old and drafty and spidery, the bathrooms are smelly and mildewed. But there is a special magic there. Part of the magic is being close to nature all day every day. Part of the magic is being in a thoroughly yet undogmatically Jewish environment. Part of the magic is an entire long weekend of no driving, no cooking, and no fussing about the kids because they spend most of the day in kids' camp. Part of the magic is long stretches of unstructured time... to chat with new friends or old, to attend an interesting lecture by the scholar-in-residence, to sit in a camp chair and read a book, to play an instrument, to contribute to a community art project. Part of the magic is staying up late singing around a campfire, then staying up later playing board games with grownups and laughing ourselves silly. This year, there was a veritable parade of wildlife passing before us on the beach, woods, and water: deer, otters, seals, eagles, and orcas, just doing their thing while you sit in your chair on the sand and take it in. In the past we have seen whales and dolphins. It is a precious few days.

In the fine tradition of summer camp there is an annual talent show, and between acts, we read haikus inspired by camp experiences. Dale and I came up with a few. Green Circle, Rounds Hall, and Orchard Grass are locations at the camp. There are various other inside references.

Reading in my chair
There goes an otter family.
Where is my child?

Mah jongg, Green Circle*
What are they doing out there?

So many tiles.

Game night in Rounds Hall
Cards Against Humanity --
Did you just say that??

Mud pit, Orchard Grass:
Sunk in up to my ankle.
Wet shoes all weekend.

Old friends didn't come.
It's really too bad for them;
Now I have new friends.

Fifth cup of cocoa:
Who took my favorite mug?
Guess I'll use this one.**

Where is your name tag?

What have you done with your shoes?
I ask my children.

Birkat hamazon
Come on up, all you rabbis.
Are we in Brooklyn?***

Freddy and Suzy
I need to use the bathroom.
What time is it now?****

* There is always a contingent of folks that play mah jongg for the entire weekend, near the outdoor amphitheater called the Green Circle.

** First of all, there is a magical machine at Kesher that supplies hot cocoa anytime with the touch of a button; the children are at it like moths at a flame. Second of all, you are encouraged to BYO mug and use it all weekend; there is a table for you to keep your own clean mug handy; but people are always using someone else's mug.

*** There are usually somewhere between three and ten rabbis at Kesher, and we say the blessing after meals after every meal. The rabbis only lead it once, but still, it's a lot of rabbis.

**** Some of the bathrooms are communal, and there is a rule limiting access to men in the first half of every hour and women in the second half of every hour; this is especially helpful for the showers. One bathroom features a sign on the door declaring "Freddy" during the men's time and "Suzy" during the women's time.