I was raised in a Catholic home by a very religious mother. My mother went to church every Sunday and weekdays, too, when she could, despite her duties raising a family and working part-time outside the home. My mother is
I was raised in a Catholic home by a very religious mother.
My mother went to church every Sunday and weekdays, too, when she could, despite her duties raising a family and working part-time outside the home.
My mother is 82 now and still goes to church every Sunday. She has a strong yet simple belief that God is in His heaven and although all is not right with the world, there is a divine plan.
When I was younger, my mother’s faith annoyed me. It seemed simplistic, not simple – and, it seemed to the me of then, to overlook much of day to day reality.
Nowadays, although I am still unable to reach mom’s certainty, I’m happy for her.
Personally, I’ve come to believe, in the words of John Lennon, that “whatever gets you through the night, is all right,” with one proviso: If you’re hurting someone else, stop.
As I grow older, I’m fascinated by people’s belief systems. At every stop on my newspaper tour – this is the seventh station on my journalistic cross – there are people who believe there is some huge media conspiracy.
I wasn’t here two weeks when someone e-mailed me about my Kaua’i County Council coverage, implying that I was part of some “plan” to hand Kaua`i over to a nefarious, unspecified group.
The truth was, simply, I had only been here 12 days. My story had holes in it because I just didn’t know enough (still don’t, but learning) about the island. That’s the downside of being a newcomer; there are many, many things you can’t know until you stay awhile.
The truth is, most reporters are somewhat skeptical and usually liberal leaning, while most publishers are entwined in the local business community. Those differences usually guarantee coverage down the middle, a balancing act from above and below.
But most conspiracy folk won’t believe it when I say my publisher here has never asked me to change a story. In fact, I’ve only had one publisher who ever asked for a change I believed was dishonest, and that’s why I’m here instead of there.
The most spiritual person I’ve ever met was an old Jewish fellow who also happened to be a psychiatrist. He was lit from the inside and despite my attempts to trap him – I’m a born cynic – he always, in my view, did the kindest thing possible.
He wasn’t a fool. He wasn’t shortsighted. He didn’t have traditional religious beliefs (like my mom does). He just always thought first of the other person and never publicly mocked their beliefs, however silly they might have been.
Eventually, I gave up and trusted his friendship and he never let me down in the 20 years I knew him.
He told me he believed almost everybody was doing the best they could with what they had been given by life.
To me, his views were almost saintly.
I tend to think we’d all be better off if we spent less time judging each other, suspecting each other’s motives and assuming the worst about each other. At least, if we managed to judge, suspect and assume less, we’d be happier people.
Because, like it or not, religious or atheist, men or women, gay or straight, haole, local or kanaka maoli, we’re all in this world, on this little island, together.
Stuck with each other, I might say. Blessed by each other’s company, my old friend would have said.
We might as well believe a little good about each other.
TGI staff writer Dennis Wilken can be reached at 245-3681 (ext. 252) and dwilken@pulitzer.net
