Human rights

Sunday, July, 22nd, 2012

 

     The soil here is dry and solid.  New grass struggles to grow in the arid heat, withering and scorching plants for miles.  Corn, tall as a man, stands idly by, watching, waiting for rain, leaves curled up to prevent further loss of moisture, the lower leaves long since turned brown and brittle.  The ditch-weed  is growing bright and green, seemingly impervious to nature's whim.  Around a pond, the cat-tails remain green, but there is an edge of brown creeping inward as the dessication of the landscape continues.  It's been hot for days.  Humid but no rain, and it shows.  Illinois is dry.

       Mississippi, however, is not.  The locals there assured me that it has been raining almost every day for months.  the ground is soggy and saturated, emerald lawns shine in contrast to the parched plain to the north.  It was in Mississippi that I had a singular awakening.

     I pulled into a Love's travel center.  Technically for fuel, but a bathroom break is always welcome.  I have a good time at the pump, chatting with another Swift driver who was next to me at the shipper.  Good guy from California.  I put exactly 80 gallons in, proud of the achievement (pumps register out 3 decimal places, so this is no easy feat) and head inside to relive my bladder and improve my blood sugar.  Directly outside the door to the fuel desk, there is a pair of ladies, a table and piles of stuff on said table.  Wearing their neon yellow shirts, the ladies are hard to miss.  Even more so, since they are actively greeting all who stroll into the store.  Well, one of them was doing the greeting, the other seemed to have a supervisory capacity, in that she was sitting down, silent and watching.  Not really pushing the goods.  

     So I walk up to them, the talky one in particular, and inquire as to their doings.  I am then informed that they are selling goods to raise money for their ministry.  Right on!  I love social groups that try to do good in the world.  Normally, I'm quite a sucker for charities, especially people trying to sell handmade lacquered wood clocks in 90 degree Mississippi heat, that is as humid as only Mississippi can be.  I was thinking of just handing them a fiver and walking inside.

      Then it dawned on me as to where I was.  For some reason, perhaps inspired by my recent thoughts, I asked what their stance was on homosexuality.  At first, she kind of looked at me, blank stare.  Her reply was "I'm a Christian."  Of course she was.  It was a Christian ministry.  My response was to simply raise an eyebrow, quizzically.  She went on to say that she believed in everything the Bible said, and took it literally.  Huh.  This is not the concept of Christian I had in my head.  For me, the concept of love everyone as yourself does not exclude any group, for any reason, race, creed or lifestyle.  I thought to myself, "so then you surely do not eat shellfish, since that is an abomination unto god's sight, as per Leviticus."  I did not press the point.  I instead asked if she had any gay friends.  She informed me she had recently moved to the area and was not going to go out and search for those kind of people now that she was part of this church.  Ah.  I understand.  It is a simple case of wanting to feel a sense of belonging to a group.  A feeling for a need of support, having the people you surround yourself with influence you.  I felt a deep compassion for her.  She went on to note that she did have a gay friend in Knoxville, whence she came, but she doesn't speak with him any more.  In fact, she now prays for him to change his mind.  While on the one hand I am outraged by this, on the other hand I am deeply compassionate for her.  I've been in a similar boat.  Not with this issue, but more along the lines of road rage.

     I've come to realize that the common denominator in all of the things we dislike is our own person.  What makes something wicked or blessed is our own point of view.  For her, she was taking on the issues of her church to belong to a group, something anyone who's ever been alone as much as I have can relate to (trucking).  Instead of trying to convert her, I simply smiled and walked into the truck stop.  You see, now that I realize that every single action we take becomes society, I'm shaping myself up.  I would give to anybody who asked for money, out of sheer kindness.  Not any more.  I will no longer support bigoted causes knowingly, and in cases I do not know, I will ask and test, and probe to find out where my energy is going to and what kind of society I am helping to create.  In my society, everyone has equal rights, or nobody has any rights.  It is my opinion that when you say it is alright to exclude any one group from having rights, dignity, or humanity that any other group may be next on that list.  To defend everyone's rights, we need to stand for the minorities.  It has been said that gay rights are human rights.  I certainly think so.

      After getting my sandwich and reliving myself, I walked back to my truck.  The very same lady asked me if I wanted to make a donation.  I was pretty sure that I didn't put on one of those Scooby Doo masks.  I politely told her that I had already spoken with her and I was away.