Tom Adams

Celebrating Life, a Community and Love

A recent reading at a Sunday worship service focused on the simple principle: “Love your neighbor as yourself.” You don’t have to be a churchgoer or believer to learn this principle. Some call it the golden rule – “Do unto others…”. A friend had a similar saying: “What goes around, comes around.” My brother John died recently. Reflecting on John’s life and legacy has broadened my perspective on the golden rule and how love grows.

All My Relations

We are sitting on a large piece of driftwood nestled into the sand at San Josef Bay near the northernmost tip of land on Vancouver Island. Clouds of rain have come and gone most of the day until a small, postage-stamp sized piece of blue sky opens up. An osprey seizes the moment to rise into the air and begin its fishing expedition along the Bay. Its flight is a joyous sight. Soaring with each breeze it stops to hover by rapidly flapping its broad white wings. Suddenly it shape shifts into a darted missile and dives down into the churning sea and emerges scant seconds later with a wriggling piece of silver clenched in its talons. And then disappears.

Lessons from Letting Go and Death

This post is a hard one to write. I don’t want to write. I really don’t want to do anything. I signed off from Critical Conversations 3 weeks ago reluctantly. I have posted weekly ever since I began three years ago. In my quiet time before that decision, a couple of things were occurring. I was reminded regularly that making space for silence and listening for the voice of the Spirit or Divine Love made my life simpler.

The challenges of speaking out against mass shootings

Two weeks ago, I wrote a post about our collective impotence to do anything about mass shootings and gun violence. I committed to write to national leaders in government, business, faith communities and nonprofits to request a root cause analysis and a commitment to end this uniquely American craziness. In the past two weeks, I have learned a little about the many efforts around the country which are inspiring and encouraging. And I have come to appreciate how challenging it is to figure out to whom to write and then, who might lead a deeper look at mass shootings and gun violence.

My Heroes Journey

Joseph Campbell wrote about the “Heroes Journey.” In it, life is referenced as a journey wherein we may have very different heroes to propel us forward. When I think of heroes, three people come to mind. I’ll tell you about them because they shaped my life’s work for social justice, as well as guiding my retirement years.

Mass Shootings Kill Freedom: Had Enough?

Early July 2nd, a neighborhood block party became a mass shooting site in South Baltimore. Last count, three people were killed and 28 were injured. I will spare you the details of what kind of guns were used. You have read and seen enough of these stories to know it was a horrible act of violence with guns that don’t belong in this world. Mass killings are not a 2nd amendment right and no one in a free nation ought to live in daily fear of where the next attack will occur.

Words Matter

While I’ve thought of myself as a racial minority all my life, it is only in recent years that I’ve come to view the term “minority” negatively. I wasn’t sure why. I just knew that I didn’t like being referred to as a minority. I knew my reaction related to my growing racial justice awareness and understanding, but I couldn’t put my finger on what bothered me. Then, I heard the term “minoritized people” for the first time on a PBS special about Zora Neale Hurston, the author and anthropologist.

Gun Violence, Hero Leaders, and Freedom

I found myself thinking this week a lot about my friend Greg Cantori’s post last week about who are our heroes and why? Greg called out for all of us the importance of honoring heroes who are working to bring about lasting, radical change to broken systems. As we celebrate our national birthday and “freedom day” in the United States, I am grateful for the freedoms we have and deeply saddened and frustrated by the persistence of so many ways we block freedom for all.I found myself thinking this week a lot about my friend Greg Cantori’s post last week about who are our heroes and why? Greg called out for all of us the importance of honoring heroes who are working to bring about lasting, radical change to broken systems. As we celebrate our national birthday and “freedom day” in the United States, I am grateful for the freedoms we have and deeply saddened and frustrated by the persistence of so many ways we block freedom for all.

Celebrating Life, a Community and Love

People enjoyed being around John because they felt better from the experience. He had a lightness and generosity of spirit that seemed to meet each person where they were. I was amused and amazed when one of his high school friends told me at his wake how she and other classmates would turn to John for help when they were facing some rebuke from the school administration for behavior. John would listen and say: “Ah, don’t worry about that. If you want, I will go with you to talk to the assistant principal.”

This was amazing because John had his share of challenges getting through school. The Catholic school discipline proved too much. The nuns first held him back a grade and then suggested he go to a public school in the seventh grade. Undaunted, John went on to become Class President and Valedictorian his senior year of high school.

John was one among many. He remembered where he came from and was generous to a fault in giving to others. So, it is no surprise others turned to him for help and for leadership.

He was a bricklayer. I was trying to recall how he learned that trade. He worked for another mason for a couple years and then began working on his own. From the beginning, he saw his work as art, and himself as an artisan. He took great pride in the quality of his work. Again, at the wake, a cousin told me how, when he passes a certain large commercial property with a circular brick stairway in front; he’s reminded that John built the steps 40 years ago. In my cousin’s words, it remains a work of art, engineering and craft.

Another friend told of an elderly woman whose brick wall next to her house was collapsing. John offered to take a look, spent two days rebuilding it and didn’t charge her.

Men who worked for John stayed with him for the 20 years he was in business as Early Bird Construction. They enjoyed working for him because he respected them, made work fun, and saw that they were paid, even when that was a hardship to him.

When a loved one dies, most cultures have rituals to bring family and friends together. The sharing of stories is part, and perhaps our best way, of comforting one another. Why is this time together so important?

Well, with the benefit of age, and mourning a succession of friends and family members, I am convinced we are called to love. We each do it in our unique way. And we do it imperfectly because our wounds and triggers limit or get in the way of loving. With age, perhaps we come to see that what Tim Leadem wrote about last week is true – we are all related.

If we are fortunate, we come to see our own flaws and limitations. This capacity for self-knowledge reduces the need for judgment and increases the opportunity for connection and compassion.

My family is blessed to still have many connections in a community where our grandparents put down roots, and where our parents lived to almost 90. My maternal grandfather and my paternal great-uncle were both local elected officials. My mother and her mother were very active in the local Catholic Church and in community affairs. Bel Air, where three generations of our family were raised, grew from a small farm community to a thriving suburb over our lifetime.

As a result, I chatted on Sunday with cousins, grade school friends and neighbors who knew my brother and family. Each time we gather as a community to mourn a death and celebrate a life, I find my appreciation of the people and the community of Bel Air grows.

As my heart opened and I could see all the love and good, this celebration of John’s life became a celebration of love for me. We are indeed all related. There is, I believe, a force for good; it invites us to see the good in one another. My brother John’s life was one of love. His big spirit connected with mine and that of many others and love grew. I am grateful for the traditions that bring us together in this way.