Word Stitched into " Day At The Beach” by Patricia Anderson Turner 15 x 30 GW silk dupioni on canvas
“His name was Aylan Kurdi and he was three years old. His parents left war torn Kobani in Syria with their two sons, Aylan and Galip; they paid over four thousand dollars to a smuggler in Turkey to get them to Greece. When the seas got rough the smuggler abandoned them, twelve of his passengers drowned. Aylan’s father, Abdullah Kurdi, swam from his wife to each of the boys in turn, time and time again, trying to save one and then another and then another. Despite his frantic efforts, his wife, Rihan, and both Aylan and Galip drowned.
Today is my daughter’s 31st birthday; she tells me she is not getting older but simply celebrating another successful solar circumnavigation. Becca has given me a wondrous granddaughter. Today is also the anniversary of the day my mother slipped away at age 88. Today thirty three more refugees fleeing from carnage drowned in their desperate attempt to cross the Aegean Sea, many of them children, many of them mothers and perhaps even grandmothers.
I am heartbroken over our country’s pathetically stingy response to the refugee crisis. We enjoy an embarrassment of riches, our per capita annual income is $54, 629 yet we give a paltry $16 per person in refugee aid. This compares with Norway who has given $240 pp in Syrian refugee aid alone.
More than money, I am appalled, saddened, and outraged at MY country’s attitude towards refugees. Why do we do not rise with One United Voice of Protest when a major political figure publicaly states that we should not only ban refugees but, gee, let’s go ahead and ban ALL Muslims……….all billion plus of them………..because, wow, you never know when someone fleeing death and famine and torture might show up at your doorstep with an AK 47.
So I say let them in, bring them here to live in my neighborhood, I’ll take my chances.
Or maybe I’ll spend a Day At The Beach instead.
patricia turner art