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Girls Not Brides: Day 17

May 17, 2020 By paulosophia in Foster Children, News, Parenting, Politics, Religion Tags: for the children, religion, spirituality

Girls Not Brides. Another international organization working to protect children.

It’s the 17th of May, National Foster Care Awareness Month. Because of the horrors I was hearing about daily in my work, I committed to writing every day, to raise awareness.

It became too hard.

I missed a few days.

Fought off some depression.

And I don’t want to be a downer to my friends on social media.

But I can’t not speak out.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: COVID-19 affects all of us. But, COVID-19 hurts children most. The fallout amongst the health experts I speak to weekly in Washington DC is unknown. I wake up daily to news articles on spikes in calls to rape hotlines, child deaths, you name it. 

It will take years to recover.

Never in the history of U.S social services have children been kept from mandated reports. Never in the history of social services have children been locked-up with their abusers, with no end in sight. 

According to Girls Not Brides: “We know that girls and women – particularly amongst the poorest and socially marginalised groups – will likely be most affected by the pandemic.”

It’s always the weakest and most vulnerable that get hit hardest. The people Jesus stood for, advocated for, died for. 

COVID-19 hurts children most

Seeing countless people protest because they can’t go to the beach or party at their favorite bar or who believe guilds of tens of thousands of our finest medical doctors and researchers (in the (WHO, CDC, NIH) are conspiring…we live in a bizarre world and ignorance is our biggest killer.

I digress.

United Nation’s Universal Declaration of Human Rights, Article Four: “No one shall be held in slavery or servitude; slavery and the slave trade shall be prohibited in all their forms.”

COVID-19 hurts children most. If you can, consider a gift to an organization that helps these children. RFK. Girls Not Brides… 

For the children,

Paul

Too Many Horror Stories: Day 11.

May 14, 2020 By paulosophia in Uncategorized

I don’t want to read it, anymore.

The morning reports. About the children. Not your loved and sheltered and guided ones.

The millions shacked up with torture. Torture. In America. COVID-19 makes them illusive to the press. Who talks about them. No mandated reporters to help.

I feel for the homeless; I fear more for children of rampant neglect, abuse , abandonment, far more.

Children.

They will end up incarcerated, unless we act.

Unless we act.

We can act.

www.rfk.org

I’m speechless. Day 10.

May 13, 2020 By paulosophia in Uncategorized

I can’t write about the pain. Goodnight.

Writing Campaigns: Day Nine

May 12, 2020 By paulosophia in Foster Children, Parenting, Spirituality Tags: family, for the children, parenting

I don’t know much about plumbing or civil engineering or heart surgery or geology. 

But I know a thing or two about children of neglect, abuse, and abandonment. 

I’m living during a time when I sometimes wish that I didn’t. 

All over the country, states and counties are scrambling about what to do, given COVID-19. 

I sometimes can’t find the words to describe the severity of this crisis. But many are with “writing campaigns.”

Friends, we are talking about children. Three-year olds and seven-year olds and 12-year olds. We don’t know how many, but we do know that close to 500,000 live in the foster care system. Because of neglect, abuse, and abandonment, the circumstances were so dire, that the government had to take them.

Countless have not been reported and are living with their abusers. And given COVID-19 and schools being closed, the reports are harrowing. 

Children are dying of child abuse at unprecedented rates. It can be exhausting at times, and very sad. I wrote about it here.

Local and state newspapers are begging for people to become foster parents.

Ironically, this tremendous need was pronounced mostly in the month of May, National Foster Care Awareness Month. 

A recent article in The Gainesville Sun titled How You Can Help A Child In Need, the need was stated simply: “Florida needs foster families, and Florida needs them now. Florida needs you.”

I commend the authors for their advocacy. As the President of an international foster care agency, I’d add one line.

Not everybody could be a foster parent, but everybody could make a difference. 

Thousands of RFK volunteers around the country and world, are doing just that with “writing campaigns.” Here’s a letter that was recently written by a counselor “Grandma” (many of the children don’t have grandparents). It was delivered to the child who lives in western Massachusetts.

I Want To Touch Her So Badly: Day Eight

May 11, 2020 By paulosophia in Foster Children, Life, Parenting, Personal, Relationships, Spirituality Tags: for the children, my life, parenting, relationships

I want to touch her so badly. It’s Mother’s Day, but I can’t.

People have lauded me for the love I have for my mother, Maria Luiga Zeppetella Martin, or “Louise.” They see the all the photos and videos and terms of endearment that I’ve posted on social media since her massive and unexpected hemorrhagic stroke in the evening on August 21, 2015. I wrote about it here.

But I can’t see her today. And I’d be lying if I denied my urge to run past the security guard, the one who sits outside the entrance — one of those kinds who gets to carry a gun — at her skilled nursing facility, just to see that look of joy on her face.

Then she would caress my face.

Later we would sit, and I’d hold her hand. 

When one suddenly dies, or in my case, suffers a mentally debilitating stroke, for the first time ever, you appreciate her as you never have. This is loss, defined. In the case of death, the qualities of the loved one exist only in your mind; in the case of mental impairment, you still get to see and touch and listen, but it’s not the same as before.

Not even close. 

I haven’t had a conversation with my mother since her stroke. 

In addition to Mom, today I think of the millions who have no mother. Or of those estranged from their mothers because of addiction or mental illness. Children in foster care have lost their mothers, temporarily, and oftentimes, permanently.

I relate with them: grief.

My love for my mom is deep. Inside my body. My chest. Real pain — a somatic reality completely different than the emotional pain.

I want to touch her so badly. 

Some have said, “Just think about what an amazing woman she was and all the good memories.”

That doesn’t work with me in times like this. 

The thing about Mom was that she wasn’t really amazing in the sense of being one of those super-moms. She didn’t care about my grades, as long as I passed my classes. We never took “Mother-Son” trips or have dates or do any of that stuff. 

She didn’t care whether I sat on the bench or played quarterback.

Her expectations were simply: help others, respect people, respect the planet.

But she’d always be there. Wearing whatever team pin or t-shirt. And when I finally got up to bat, I’d hear this distinct faint voice, “Go Paul!” And I’d look and you could see the expression that blended smile and joy and pride – her living and loving me, caught up at that moment. 

That same faint voice sang flat at every Sunday at mass, or later at the Protestant services. But she’d sing with all her being. And she meant what she sang. You could just tell. 

In every season of my life — when I was succeeding and all those times I was failing — she loved me the same. 

Mom is gone. The nurses will let us FaceTime with her, but I won’t. It will only confuse her, and I’m almost certain, in spite of her mental fragility, at least possibly, cause her to wonder why I’ve abandoned her.

If she doesn’t see me, she’s not thinking about me.

I want to touch her so badly.

Three mental realities bring a tinge of solace.

First, I am a lucky man to have a mother like Luigia Maria Zeppetella Martin. I was loved, unconditionally, from the time she bore me, to the day I kissed her and told her I loved her and went on vacation. (She had the stroke while I was on vacation.)

Second, I think of the hundreds of thousands of children in the United States (and millions around the world) that either have no mother or have lost them because of neglect and abuse. I work for those children. I’ve been with hundreds. I’m blessed to have that which I…had.

Third, Mom’s real name is Maria. When she immigrated to the U.S. with her family, she didn’t want to be called “Maria” because back in those days Italians weren’t liked much. So her aunt used her middle name, Luiga, and gave it an American twist: Louise.

But I think of the name Maria. And, growing-up Roman Catholic, I think of the respect they have for Maria, Mary, Jesus’ mother. 

Mother Teresa was once asked about why Catholics make such a big deal about Mary. She replied, “No Mary, no Jesus.”

Mom’s name in English would have been Mary.

So no Mary, no Paul. No me. That’s the thing about mothers, without them, we wouldn’t be here.

I want to touch her so badly.

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Former U.S. House of Representatives candidate. Writer. CEO advocate for children of neglect, abuse, and abandonment. Politics junkie. Chess geek. INTP. Enneagram 5w4. Mediterranean cook. Beer and Hymns bassist. UCLA. Philosophy.

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I have #COVID19. For me, fever, chills, aches, a s I have #COVID19. For me, fever, chills, aches, a scratchy cough. Fatigue. Whenever I grow grim about my mind do to little inconvenient illnesses like cold or flu or COVID-19, I always think of the relativity of pain. Yes, this virus has killed 500,000 in the US alone. God be with their families in their horror of grief. Instead of wallowing, I fixate my mind on young children with terminal cancer or those living with trigeminal neuralgia or kyphoscoliosis or Cluster headaches or any of the countless terminal illnesses known to man. Not to mention those suffering from something perhaps worse — crippling mental illness. Also severe epileptic seizures. Perhaps worst of all: children locked in homes with abusive parents. We hear their stories often — thrown against walls, locked in closets, sold for sex. When I’m sniffling here in bed with my Advil and Tylenol and hot teas ready for deployment at the slightest tinge of discomfort, I think of the Holocaust and Auchuwitz. I read Wiesel’s Night again. Recall those brutalized by tyrants like Stalin — left to freeze and starve and die, by the millions. And those under Adi Amin and Mao Zedong or Gengis Khan. Or even today, this is nothing compared to the Ugers living in Western China, or those suffering in Myanmar. In the U.S. — sure we all suffer in our own ways. But if we look at pain and suffering in context — relative to those with other insidious illnesses, those living in countries torn by human rights abuse, and just a cursory look back at our history — this ain't that bad. #paulosophia
“Self — always transitory.” Thank you @carl “Self — always transitory.” Thank you @carlyhp. Watching you grow and flourish over the years makes this all the more special. ______________________________ #paulosophia #art #quote #self #selfie #painting
You are smarter and wiser than you realize. So lis You are smarter and wiser than you realize. So listen to your core, and shun all those trendy thoughts. #paulosophia #wisdom
First time here meeting with a new administration. First time here meeting with a new administration. And assured that countless civil servants, despite which party holds power, care. I know some — deeply devoted to their work, smart, professional, caring. Despite swarms of uniformed National Guards (everywhere, in our nation’s capital, protecting us from...us) I believe better days lie ahead. 🇺🇸 #paulosophia
Travel perk. #paulosophia #noglasses Travel perk. #paulosophia #noglasses
I’ve been in the tundra of Chicago (swipe left) I’ve been in the tundra of Chicago (swipe left) and now freeze in New York (swipe left again). Our minds (or brains for my physicalist friends) — complex and weird. As I sit down for dinner now — after a shower in my hotel, solely for the sake of warming my core — I recall a solo retreat to Death Valley. Around 6 years ago. This cold in my bones activated that memory (however one would define a memory, to my physicalist friends) of that silent retreat to the heat, where temperatures soared well into triple digits. I found this shot as I reminisced, as #iphone allows access to photos, based on location. You just look at the map and press on the dot and, voila. I like big, cold, cities, but might prefer rural, austere, deserts. #paulosophi #travel #deathvalley #writersofinstagram #chicago #newyork #philosophy #physicalism
Ordinary people, doing extraordinary things. What Ordinary people, doing extraordinary things. What an honor meeting another @__forthechildren chapter Director, Nancy. Three hundred talented and selfless FTC leaders around the country and world, leading 20,000 of our volunteers who give over two million hours a year to mentoring, guiding, encouraging, fostering, adopting — loving — children who have been abandoned. Sign the pledge to help us help children. Link in profile. #saints #forthechildren
Rows and floes of angel hair And ice cream castles Rows and floes of angel hair And ice cream castles in the air And feather canyons everywhere I've looked at clouds that way But now they only block the sun They rain and snow on everyone So many things I would have done But clouds got in my way I've looked at clouds from both sides now From up and down, and still somehow It's cloud illusions I recall I really don't know clouds at all #jonimitchell #paulosophia #clouds #pictureoftheday
Instagram post 18138084790177143 Instagram post 18138084790177143
What does love look like? It has the hands to help What does love look like? It has the hands to help others. It has the feet to hasten to the poor and needy. It has eyes to see misery and want. It has the ears to hear the sighs and sorrows of men. That is what love looks like.” - Augustine of Hippo, Confessions #paulosophia #augustine #love
Last night, an ahi dish with white beans and fenne Last night, an ahi dish with white beans and fennel of all things (fresh and roasted seeds). Beautiful. #paulosophia #food #foodporn @shuncutlery
That time I spent hours listening to our directors That time I spent hours listening to our directors from Namibia, in Sydney. www.forthrchildten.org @__forthechildren
Jesus’ party was not some “wide tent” for bi Jesus’ party was not some “wide tent” for bigots and racists and haters. It was a big tent for minorities, the poor, outsiders, sinners. #paulosophia #immigration #refugeeswelcome
One more ❤️❤️ One more ❤️❤️
Today I will spend time with my #Leica. I still ba Today I will spend time with my #Leica. I still barely know how to use it (not enough time learn), how to utilize natural light (not enough time to learn), how to capture the right blend of uniformity amidst variety (not enough time to learn), who to shoot (nobody willing). For no other reason than nine lives lore, I can find myself wishing to be a cat. Why? How else to pursue the nagging passions? In trying to cram them into this one, earthly, life, like today I'm  Paul-the-photographer, the result is the quintessential jack of all trades, master of none. Paul, the hack-of-all-trades. Fact  is, I specialize at exactly nothing, other than the specialty of little bit of this and little bit of that. Nine lives Paul, no doubt, would be posting today  of the limitations of having only nine lives. If I had to choose today? Most likely: #1 Photographer: more of humanity than nature, in the Annie Liebobitz realm. #2 Revolutionary: Going  all-in like  Jesus (more than anyone else) and MLK and Gandhi and Bob Dylan and Harriet Tubman and Wittgenstein and Saint Francis and Bonhoeffer and Luther and Céaser Chávez.  (Please visit forthechildren.org to sign the pledge and help me on this one.) #3 Botanist/zoologist: Because Albert Schweitzer. #4 Philosopher: In the spirit of Aristotle. My BA and MA helped greatly, but only almost scratched the surface of understanding metaphysics, epistemology, logic, aesthetics, ethics. #5 Geologist: I know almost nothing about how the earth is composed nor how plate tectonics work, and that bugs me. #6 Gypsy: A full-time observer. Just to travel to and from, to lick the globe, minus the encumbrances of money, schedules, social pressures to be "responsible." #7 Cook: Not a chef — a farmer who spends as much time attending to the ingredients (soil, sun, water, freshness) as much as the cooking part. #8 Historian: Not sure which era nor region. Eighty-one lives wouldn't be enough to satisfy my craving to learn about all those people from all those places during all those times. #9 Musician: I play bass (decently), guitar (average at best), trumpet and piano (below average at best). #10 Writer #paulosophia
Finally. ❤️❤️ Finally. ❤️❤️
Lucy. ❤️ Lucy. ❤️
PAULOSOPHIA BLOG: THE MOMENTS THEY MURDERED MY GOD PAULOSOPHIA BLOG: THE MOMENTS THEY MURDERED MY GOD ⠀⠀ On that September morning, I walked the Krakow cobblestone streets in near-freezing air at 5:30 a.m. to grab a bus to Auschwitz. I had pulled an all-nighter but not by choice. The reality of visiting that infamous “place.” I don’t remember the ride but I arrived. The tour guide, a blonde woman in her 50s — speaking perfect English with a thick Polish accent, languid in reciting the blisteringly-morbid data to a dozen tourists who wouldn’t dare utter a word. I had read the books, watched the documentaries, ingested every frame of Schindler’s list, countless times. But there is something about a place. As the helpless prisoners arrived, young children, the elderly, and those with illnesses were separated. A guard would point to the left or the right. One direction meant to the “showers,” which pumped deadly Zyklon-B poison gas into the chambers. I kept my mouth open for hours — a dropped jaw allowed me to cry and breathe, simultaneously... ⠀⠀ (Full post in profile) #paulosophia #holocaustremembranceday #holocaust #writersofinstagram #xenophobia
#paulosophia #food #foodporn 🇮🇹 #paulosophia #food #foodporn 🇮🇹
Lucy. #catsofinstagram #paulosophia Lucy. #catsofinstagram #paulosophia
Always, sometimes, grill your romaine. #paulosophi Always, sometimes, grill your romaine. #paulosophia #foodporn
I do not remember Wednesday's in January quite lik I do not remember Wednesday's in January quite like this. #InaugurationDay #wednesdaysjanuary2021
Young people are everything. ⠀⠀ “For there i Young people are everything. ⠀⠀ “For there is always light. If only we are brave to see it. If only if we are brave enough to be it.” 🙌🏾 ⠀⠀ #amandagorman #inagurationday2021🇺🇸
Finally 🙌🏾🇺🇸 Finally 🙌🏾🇺🇸
Yes, I'm a white, educated, Christian, male. So wh Yes, I'm a white, educated, Christian, male. So what understanding could I have about racism, or anti-semitism, or sexual harassment — or any kind of discrimination? Ultimately, none. It's all theory. On that note, I studied normative ethics in my 30s and 40s (when I received a BA and MA in philosophy). I've had a painting of Lincoln hanging in my office for 20 years. I bought it from my friend @bradfordjsalamon. And my parents, each of them — I heard their stories. Dad, a Mexican, remembers the "No Mexican" signs, right here in The OC. Mom, being a Roman Catholic and an Italian immigrant in the 1950s — no bueno. But, again, it's all theory. It's #MLK Day today. Grateful Ronald Reagan made it a national holiday. Happy to see all the posts and quotes on social media. But most white white, educated, Christian, males (who hold the handles of  power in politics and business), like me, can't truly understand. Whites can't understand racism. See the problem? This post won't move the needle. I guess I post because I feel it's my duty. There are massive problems surrounding racism today, and they only got worse on January 6 when (predominately white men) sacked the capital wearing Auschwitz t-shirts and waving Confederate flags. I read a book recently called "White Fragility." (Written by a while lady.) She wrote, "For those of us who work to raise the racial consciousness of whites, simply getting whites to acknowledge that our race gives us advantages is a major effort. The defensiveness, denial, and resistance are deep.”  She's so right. In the end, more and more these days, with a little help from my friends, I look away from politics, and look to Jesus. He understood. He was a refugee from the wrong neighborhood, hanging out with all the wrong people. And he wasn't martyred on behalf of those like me with privilege, but those with none. As much as I might try, I can't understand. See the problem?
After the war they immigrated here. Like millions After the war they immigrated here. Like millions of Italians. Nonno. Nonna. Uncle Carlo. Uncle Tony. Uncle Phil. Mom. ⠀⠀ They had no money. It was the 1950s. They were labeled "Enemies of the state." Because, the conspiracy theory in those days — the Pope was trying to infiltrate the United States government. ⠀⠀ Far too many Grapes of Wrath stories to tell here about Mussolini and arriving at Ellis Island with nowhere to go — odd jobs in Los Angeles. Being called “wops” by the whites. But whatever it took to make ends meet and live the American dream, which they did. ⠀⠀ I come from fighting stock. ⠀⠀ Uncle Carlo died in a car accident in Los Angeles, before Mom and Dad married. Nonna died when I was 18. I drove to to tell Nonno at their home. He couldnt bring himself to the hospital. He sat sobbing in his chair. With and 8x10 photo of Nonna, pressed against his chest . She was an angel. Nonno married an Italian woman years later named Jenny. She passed years after a happy two decades of love. Then Nonno died. Then Uncle Tony, a couple of years ago. ⠀⠀ Now it's Mom and Uncle Phil. But Mom is languishing in the spartan skilled nursing facility. Haven't seen her since February. ⠀⠀ Uncle Phil turned 87 today. I just got off the phone with him. Thick accent. Always loud and funny and cocky — full of life. ⠀⠀ “I love you, Uncle Phil, talk to you soon.” ⠀⠀ “I love you too, Paulie.” ⠀⠀ This is a photo from July. I visited him and my amazing @teal_fighter (Aunt Terri) and my cousin, Phil Jr., in Pheonix. Uncle Phil cooked (evidently for hours) all from scratch, as my people do, pizza, pasta, roasted bell peppers, bread, salad. ⠀⠀ I am proudly half Italian. And half Mexican, though we are predominately Spanish. Though I appear quite white, I'm 100% Latin. ⠀⠀ I love my family, both sides. I love the culture. I love Uncle Phil. Talking to him reminded me of Mom. ⠀⠀ She was an angel. 🇮🇹 _________________________________ #immigrants #paulosophia #writersofinstagram #family #food #love #italian
Science may provide the most useful way to organiz Science may provide the most useful way to organize empirical, reproducible data, but its power to do so is predicated on its inability to grasp the most central aspects of human life: hope, fear, love, hate, beauty, envy, honor, weakness, striving, suffering, virtue. ⠀⠀ Paul Kalanithi, When Breath Becomes Air _________________________________ #paulosophia #paulkalanithi #science #truth #philosophy #metaphysics #love #hope #fear #writersofinstagram #selfie #book
Twenty-thousand soldiers. In our nation’s capita Twenty-thousand soldiers. In our nation’s capital. Protecting our American elected officials... from American terrorists... 2021 makes 2020 look like milquetoast. #paulosophia
"Foster children are some of the most vulnerable p "Foster children are some of the most vulnerable population to sex trafficking." -Dr. Becca C. Johnson⁠ ⁠ ⠀⠀ Tomorrow We wear blue #forthechildren. Please help spread awareness by wearing blue and sharing it on social media. ⁠ ⠀⠀ Learn more with the link in bio. ⁠ ⠀⠀ National Human Trafficking Hotline: ⁠ (888)373-7888 _______________________________ #humanrights #humantraffickingawarenessmonth #humantrafficking #sextraffickingawareness #sextrafficking #family #love #instagood #mother #mom #parent
PAULOSOPHIA BLOG POST: SOME JUST DIE — WHAT ALBE PAULOSOPHIA BLOG POST: SOME JUST DIE — WHAT ALBERT TOLD ME ABOUT COVID-19 (link to full post in profile) ⠀⠀ ...So I rolled up. His golden retriever, Maddy, rushed me. She just wanted attention. ⠀⠀ “Hello, Albert, how are things at work?” ⠀⠀ Albert is soft-spoken. He doesn’t talk much. And when he does, he gives really short answers, always with a smile. ⠀⠀ This is a summary of what Albert just said about COVID-19. ⠀⠀ “Well…” ⠀⠀ I prodded: “I read that there shortage of beds in Southern California hospitals.” ⠀⠀ “We are treating people in the waiting room. We are having to send people with other conditions home. There’s no room.” ⠀⠀ I inquire more. “Are most of those come in elderly, or with preexisting conditions?” ⠀⠀ “Some of them, yes.” ⠀⠀ Then he added something. For those of you that think #COVID-19 is some kind of hoax or exaggeration, please pay attention. This really just happened; I just came inside to memorialize what an ER doctor just told me. ⠀⠀ “Some just die. There’s no way we can predict it. Younger people. What appeared to be very healthy people.”
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