The name “Rusesabagina” is a mouthful. Paul Rusesabagina is best known as “the hotel manager.” The world learned about him through a movie in 2004, Hotel Rwanda. He saved more than a thousand people from the genocide. From August 2020 until last month, he was a political prisoner. I met him last week. And I begin my column with him today. That column is headed “A great man, &c.” Those interested may go here.
I’d like to publish a letter from a reader, a letter that many won’t like. That’s okay. I’m not so much in the liking business as in the interesting business.
Our reader sends me links to several articles, including this one: “Most Republicans Support Declaring the United States a Christian Nation: New polling shows the appeal — and limits — of a Christian nationalist message.” Another is here: “Public schools would have to display Ten Commandments under bill passed by Texas Senate: The Senate also passed a bill that would set prayer and Bible reading times during the school day.”
He writes,
I’m 80 years old. I like to say that I was born and partly raised in Texas, but I also lived in Louisiana, Mississippi, and Florida . . .
My schools, including college, were whites-only. Until I joined the Army at the age of 20, the only African Americans that I had any contact with were maids.
I did get to see a blackface minstrel show at my school in Mississippi, but didn’t understand it — including the guy called “Mr. Bones.”
After I flunked out of college for the second time, I hitchhiked from Austin to California, because I didn’t want to face my parents.
After a couple of months — mostly spent living with my rocket-engineer cousin in Santa Barbara — I returned to Houston and started looking for a job.
That was when I first experienced racial discrimination myself. I had neither a degree nor even the slightest bit of work experience. So, when I started looking at newspaper classified ads, the only jobs that I was qualified for were listed under “Help Wanted — Black.” I wasn’t qualified for those for a different reason.
And that’s how I ended up spending 20 years in the Army.
Regarding religion in public schools:
In my Mississippi elementary school, I recall an assembly program in which we were subjected to a long talk about Jesus. The speaker then handed out copies of a booklet containing all the words of Jesus.
In Texas, in junior high and high school, each day started with Bible readings over the PA system.
All to no avail. By the time I got to college, I was a confirmed atheist. In college, two of my close friends were the sons of Christian ministers — and both were atheists.
My college was part of the Methodist Church. We had mandatory chapel on Wednesdays, and had to take a semester on the Bible. My unfortunate professor finally told me to move to the back of the classroom, and to never again raise my hand unless I needed to go to the toilet. We were friends outside of class.
People have interesting lives, and often have interesting things to say. Don’t they?
Hans Goeckner is a physicist at the University of Illinois, Chicago. He writes,
Hi, Jay,
I haven’t sent any bird photos in a while (they aren’t the only thing I photograph, but they seem to be the most popular), so I thought I’d send along two from the past couple weeks.
The first is a tree swallow above a nesting box (unseen) at Merritt Prairie Forest Preserve (a “forest preserve” is a thing in the Chicago area, even when they aren’t forests) in DeKalb County, Ill., taken on Easter Thursday afternoon. I was able to get within ten feet to take photos.
Here you go:
Our reader-photographer-physicist continues,
The second is a male blue-gray gnatcatcher taking a brief rest between the marsh and the Des Plaines River in Jerome Huppert Woods in River Grove (or is it Elmwood Park?), Ill. He was among a crowd of other thumb-sized birds — including various warblers (including myrtles), kinglets, and chickadees — catching the first crop of insects for the spring and mostly avoiding my camera. I’d not seen one to my knowledge outside of a book before.
Here you go:
Wonderful. Thank you to one and all.