The Crab Chronicles

The Changing World

About 10 or 15 years ago I was working for a young attorney and he had me writing blogs for him. It was interesting. I had to do a lot of research to find what I thought were interesting topics to write about. In the course of researching those blogs I came across an online publication that basically was a roundup of stories from around the country. 

The reason I am mentioning this is because a lot of the stories were about police mistreating people of color.

I remember finding those stories and reading them all, at first. Then I got to where I skipped over them because I was not writing about criminal law, my area was civil law. The stories were inevitably about people who were arrested who shouldn't have been arrested, or they were arrested and beaten up for seeming to resist the police. The stories were everywhere, from every corner of America. There were So.Many.Stories.

I'd say 95% of those stories were under-reported.

You see, the police used to be able to pretty much do what they wanted without fear of scrutiny by anyone. That is changing. Not fast enough, but it IS changing.

One of the rare bonuses to so many of us walking around with smartphones that can be used to take quick videos is that there are few corners of the world not subject to being filmed. Police officers know this.

The Floyd case has shocked and horrified me to the point where it's almost unbearable to see the video of it. The officer who had his knee on Mr. Floyd's neck has now been arrested -- story.

If not for the videos made of what happened I guarantee you this story would not have made national news. As long as there have been police officers there have been officers who abused their power and mistreated people. I'm not defending that. It's reprehensible. However, we now live in a world where accountability is more likely.

I've never been arrested.

However, I had a scary encounter once with a police officer years ago. I was in graduate school and I had broken up with a boyfriend and was very upset. I was crying, loudly, for a while. My neighbors called the campus police and reported me for crying too loud, saying I was screaming. When the police officer knocked on my door I was shocked, utterly bewildered. He said my neighbors thought I was being abused or beaten. The sight of the officer calmed me down immediately. I was also frightened and confused. Instead of coming over to see what was wrong, my neighbors called the police. It wasn't a police matter. I had done nothing wrong. The officer wasn't very nice, and he didn't act like he cared. He just wanted me to be quiet.

I grew up in a family where, when I was crying, someone always came and comforted me. Always. Even as a baby, my parents never made me "cry it out." Being grown up and living alone meant there was no source of comfort and I'm sure that contributed to my sadness and crying spell.

After the officer left I just sat and shook for a few minutes.

After that, I could better imagine how someone of color feels when they are wrongly accused of something. Multiply my feelings a million times, of course. What I went through was nothing, in comparison. But it gave me a very tiny taste of what a really unpleasant account with a police officer can be like.

 

We had protests here in Atlanta yesterday. In a story reported yesterday our mayor [who is black] admonished the protestors.

Mayor Keisha Lance Bottoms' voice rose in a televised press conference, with a stern message for violent protesters: "You are disgracing our city; you are disgracing the life of George Floyd ... We are better than this."

She is right, and she is wrong.

I have a friend who is the mother of a black son. She is white. She has to live in a daily fear most white people will never understand: fear of her son being arrested just for being black but actually doing nothing wrong. I have another white friend whose adopted sons are Asians and her family has faced overt, ugly racism many times -- oh, and they live in Colorado, not the south. She also worries about her sons.

We may not see a perfectly racially harmonious world in my lifetime. I am resigned to that. Maybe in my son's lifetime, though.

My son has faced discrimination. I understand a little of what mothers of black sons face.

He has some Kazakh ancestry. When I went to Kazakhstan in 2007 to adopt my son the orphanage workers kept saying "He is classified Russian!" I was told that repeatedly. I didn't understand why it mattered until a while later when it was explained to me that to be classified as native Kazakh meant discrimination, and mixed-race kids fared worst of all in a segregated society. That, despite the fact the president of Kazakhstan was Kazakh, not Russian.

Had he stayed in Kazakhstan my son would have faced three kinds of discrimination: for being an orphan, for being handicapped, and for being mixed race. His chances of ever having a good job were practically nil, at that time. [Things may have changed. I hope so.]

Race should have no bearing on how anyone is treated, in any walk of life, anywhere, any time. But the world is how it is, despite that, and we must work to change it. If protests change it, good. There is malicious anger and there is righteous anger and we need to remember that.

I am praying that the Floyd cases and Arbury cases will remind us, sadly, to continue to actively pray for a better world and to insist on a better world, for our children and all the generations to come.

We have come a long way, and we have a long way to go.

Condemning all police officers isn't the answer.

Condemning the protestors isn't the answer.

We have to find ways to move forward without blanket condemnation of any group. We have to keep the conversation going. We have to keep filming injustices. We have to keep working for change.

 

 

McMillans and Hastys in North Georgia

In recent years I have altered my blog a bit, focusing more on general topics and less on my family, since my kids are now grown and gone. This is not merely a "mommy blog" but an ongoing way for me to get some writing practice and essay practice. However, today I wanted to swing it back around to the personal, so I hope if you're not related to me by blood or marriage you won't be offended.

Around 2013, I saw a program on PBS called Finding Your Roots, with Henry Louis Gates. It's fascinating to me how Dr. Gates helps famous people trace their ancestry back. The show uses the traditional [hunting through census records and deed records, etc. at the courthouse] and more modern methods -- DNA testing. He talked about 23andMe. I had never heard of that company. I decided to buy a test kit for my son, because we have no information on his birth family. My mom wanted me to get tested, too, so I did.

Not surprisingly, I am 63% British and Irish, 19.7% French and German, and 3.2% Scandinavian. My adopted son is 89% Eastern European, 5% Greek and Balkan, and a smattering of other ethnicities. Because my son was born in Kazakhstan, we have not been able to find any close relatives.

I have located a veritable treasure trove of relatives, however, on both sides of my family. There is a category on 23andMe called DNA Relatives. You can see everyone on 23andMe who is related to you. Now, if you don't want to be identified you can just use initials and not supply any information about yourself -- it's all optional. You don't have to share anything with anyone else. However, when you see a list of folks and how they are related to you, you can contact them.

I have located relatives who are white and African American and Asian. I now have Jewish relatives. I have relatives all over the USA. The more the merrier!

Months ago, I got in touch with a "Second to Third Cousin" named Roy, who lives in Virginia, and thus began a fascinating journey. As a writer, I am always very curious about people's stories, and Roy's story is intriguing to me personally, professionally, and as an adoptive mom. He was adopted as an infant but not told he was adopted. As a teen, he found out by accident. His adoptive parents didn't tell him anything about his birth parents, though. He got a limited amount of information from the agency, but not the names of his biological parents.

Months ago I had a terrific conversation with Roy by phone, and promised to try and help. I wasn't able to get it done, despite my best research efforts. I should explain that by looking at Roy's profile on 23andMe and clicking on Relatives in Common I was able to see he is connected to me on my mom's side of the family. I couldn't figure out how exactly, though. My Hasty great grandparents had a ton of kids. [see below, the family around 1914]

However, a lady named Barbara in North Carolina got a 23andMe test kit from her daughters this past Christmas, and did it. She is Roy's biological aunt. She has several siblings and so she and Roy have narrowed it down to one of her brothers probably being his father, but unfortunately the man has passed away. Roy is still searching for his birthmom's family, and hoping she is alive, of course. I understand and sympathize with Roy's desire to know his birth family. Everyone deserves to know that basic information.

I friended Barbara on Facebook and we were quickly able to figure out our connection. It isn't through the Hastys, but it is through the McMillans.[I have written about the Hastys and McMillans before, here.]

My great-grandfather William Dozier Hasty married Martha Virginia ["Ginnie] McMillan. [See below right]

The Hasty family has been in the Canton Georgia area for a long time. So has the McMillan family. Both families are highly respected in the area. Grandpa Hasty donated land to build a school and it still stands, in Canton Georgia.

Below is a listing of the children of Wilson Lumpkin McMillan and Mary Mansfield Brown [source]:

Wilson Lumpkin McMillan -- my great great grandfather

1833-1880

Marriage: 1853

Fulton County, Georgia

He was born when a man named Wilson Lumpkin was the governor of Georgia, and undoubtedly was named for him. Grandaddy McMillan was a private with the First Georgia Cavalry in the Civil War, and was a blacksmith. He contracted a "lung disease" while serving in the Army, which may account for his death at the age of 47. There is more about him here. He had 16 siblings.

Mary Mansfield Brown -- my great great grandmother

1834-1919                                  

Children (8)

There is more information about her here, Find A Grave. For a more complete listing of her siblings and children, see here. She had 16 siblings. One of her siblings was named Francis Marion Brown, another James K. Polk Brown. Her husband was named after the governor. Pretty interesting. I wonder if she realized that one day her grandson Bob Hasty would be famous in his own right as a major league baseball player?!

 

Emily Adeline McMillan -- she has a granddaughter named Donna and I have gotten to know her, a delightful lady who lives in Florida

1854-1924

 

Franklin Lamar McMillan

1856-1954

 

Margaret Ann Mc Millan

1859-1890

 

Martha Virginia McMillan -- this is my great-grandmother, and she is in the photos above. Mom said she was revered as a very sweet, kind lady

1862-1929

 

James M McMillan

1868-

 

Joseph Warren McMillan  -- this is the grandfather of Barbara, and great-grandfather of Roy

1870-1954                       

 

Arthur Lumpkin McMillan

1873-1953

 

Etta Lozenia McMillan  -- she married one of William Hasty's cousins, Jimmy Hasty, and their grandson is a friend of mine; I call him my double cousin

1876-1940    

 

  left, a portrait of Etta McMillan Hasty

 

  I get a big kick out of locating cousins and getting to know them. I was particularly thrilled to find Etta and Jimmy's descendants. My mother remembers going to see Etta and Jimmy as a little girl. 

 

 The Hasty men are all excellent craftsmen when it comes to wood. My kitchen table was made by William Hasty, my great-grandfather, and we have a beautiful oak chest of drawers he made. Etta's grandson Norman has a thriving business making beautiful custom wood furniture. Mom's cousin Frank Hasty does wood "turning" and makes amazingly beautiful bowls, ornaments, and other things.

 

 One of the delightful legacies of the McMillans is musical talent. Mom remembers going to eat big Sunday dinners at the McMillan home and everyone would sit around and sing afterwards, in harmony. They all sang and/or played an instrument. Mom has a beautiful singing voice and sang professionally as a young woman. I have also studied voice and done a lot of singing [when I was young, not now]. Mom's brother Don and his wife have sung in church choirs for decades, and their children are musically talented as well -- their daughter Linda plays and sings in a band, and their son plays guitar. Don's granddaughter has a lovely voice and we recently saw a video of her singing at church. 

 

Mom said all the McMillan women loved to cook and were excellent cooks. I love to cook too! [You can order my cookbook on Amazon, What's for Dinner, Mom?]

 

 I mention these things because they fascinate me. I know most of today's generations, the twenty-something Hasty and McMillan descendants, probably don't think this is important or interesting, but I do. We are all part of a lineage that goes back to Great Britain, Scotland, Ireland, and further. I have woodworkers and minstrels in my family background.  I have farmers and shopkeepers. All the men on both sides have fought in every war, too. We love this country.     

 

We are all part of a tapestry of relatives, stretching back across the centuries. We all deserve to know those family members, as much as we can. Mom recalls sitting on Grandpa Hasty's knee and him singing Irish lullabies to her. She sat me on her lap and sang to me, too. What a beautiful legacy, the gift of music. I always think of Grandpa, too, when I eat at the table he built. What a rich experience for me, getting to know these cousins, and gaining a broader understanding of my family and how we are all connected. God Bless us all.   

The Case for Corona Civility

I walk my dog almost every day around my quiet suburban neighborhood and sometimes I see things that make me wonder what the hell is wrong with people.

I saw a masked lady walk up to one of my neighbors the other day and proceed to lecture him about wearing a mask, I think. I could not hear what she was saying, but from the expression on my neighbor's face he clearly was not happy about her words. Now, he was in his own yard, playing with his own children, and there was nobody else within 20 feet of them. Should he have been wearing a mask? In my opinion, no. There were no seniors or ill people anywhere nearby. I happen to know this neighbor has been a model citizen at staying home and social distancing and keeping his family home. Yet the masked lady felt like she should lecture him.

What on earth is wrong with people these days?!

There is huge controversy now between the "stay at home no matter what" folks and the "let's get back to normal life" folks. There are protests in the streets. People not wearing masks are lectured or yelled at in public. People refusing to un-quarantine are being accused of ruining our economy.

What everyone seems to lose sight of is this: we live in America.

We have the right to social distance or not. We have the right to stay home or not.

Unless or until martial law is declared, how are you going to force people to comply?

Now, in New York city or Boston or Chicago -- all places where the people are densely packed in together -- I think it's very important for people to wear masks and gloves and stay off public transit and really take quarantines seriously. Those places have a ton of Corona-virus cases happening and many people are dying.

Here in my home state of Georgia, just over a thousand people have died from Covid-19. According to the Atlanta Journal:

"Nearly 5,390 COVID-19 patients have been hospitalized in Georgia so far and at least 1,249 of those people were admitted into a hospital’s intensive care unit. 1,174 people have died."

There are 3,990,702 people living here according to Google. So, almost 4 million people. So only a tiny percentage of people living here have died from Covid-19. I don't know anyone who has had the disease or who has died.

I do know that many of the folks who have died were senior citizens. According to the AP, people over 80 have 5 times the death rate from Covid-19 than younger folks.

I live with my mother who is 86, so I am hyper-vigilant about who gets near her, washing hands, etc. She has not left the house since she came home from rehab about 3 weeks ago. There were 3 cases of Covid-19 at her rehab, though, so I feel like she is actually safer here at home, only coming in contact with me -- a third generation germaphobe who obsessively washes hands.

So far, she is fine. [knock wood]

Our governor has gotten severely criticized for letting restaurants and other businesses open back up. We are slowly transitioning back to normal. I was in a favorite restaurant last week picking up a takeout order.  Everyone wore masks and gloves. There was heavy plastic sheeting dividing customers from people doing food orders. This place does mostly takeout orders on a normal day, so I wasn't surprised to not see anyone eating in. I left with a prayer that they would be able to remain open, though. They are a small place, independently owned and operated, and the food is excellent. I do not fear the food from there. We aren't sick. 

I feel like non-Georgians who are criticizing us should keep quiet, though.

An article in The Atlantic about our state's efforts to get back to normal [Georgia's Experiment in Human Sacrifice] ticked me off in the first paragraph but then somewhat redeemed itself in the rest of the story. Among a lot of other things, it notes:

"Public-health officials broadly agree that reopening businesses—especially those that require close physical contact—in places where the virus has already spread will kill people. Even so, many other states are quietly considering similar moves to Georgia’s."  Amanda Mull, unless you have a crystal ball or you're a bona fide psychic, you have no idea what you're talking about. [She wrote the article.]

Governor Kemp isn't saying businesses HAVE to reopen. He's giving them the option of reopening.

Let's take a step back here, for a moment.

Let's reflect on how random rules are, because the government is a vast entity and nobody knows how it works. Who decided that law firms and liquor stores are "essential"? I am glad I work for a law firm and can continue working, but why are we "essential"? We don't do criminal law. I can see why criminal lawyers would still be needed. And why would liquor stores be exempt? [Politicians need access to lawyers and that access might make them drink, is my guess.]

My point is simply this: everyone should be free to choose to do what they feel is best to keep their family and/or their businesses safe. Period.

If I am not wearing a mask, stay the heck away from me if you like, but don't lecture me.

If you want to stay home, STAY. Don't criticize me for leaving, though.

I know some will disagree with me. If I had seen dead bodies stacked up in wagons along my street, like what was seen during the plagues hundreds of years ago, I wouldn't have written this blog. But this is 2020.

America is about FREEDOM. Choose to go out. Choose to stay home. Choose to not re-elect Kemp if you don't like how he governs.

It's all about choice.

I hope we will ALL choose to be polite and kind to one another, even if we disagree, though.