It was 2:37am on November 1, 2022, when I reached out to Hansel during my Braille studies with Pat Leader. It was the Fall semester.

Later, on April 26, 2024 he would recommend Psalm 51—A Prayer of Contrition.

The idea being, a meditation on the Lord’s Prayer.

Our Father, who art in heaven,
hallowed be thy name;
thy kingdom come;
thy will be done;
on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our trespasses;
as we forgive those who trespass
against us.
And lead us not into temptation;
but deliver us from evil.
For thine is the kingdom,
the power and the glory,
for ever and ever.
Amen.

I think what Hansel was trying to tell me—through Psalm 51—was a specific mediation on the lines “And forgive us our trespasses; as we forgive those who trespass against us.”

The idea being, when we are wronged, we tend to take it so keenly to the wounding. As it was Seneca who said “We suffer more in imagination than in reality.”

Hansel, as a friend and mentor, was consoling me though this time. And it is unfortunate he did not live to see my graduation.

But what he was trying to get me to realize was embodied in lines 2 & 3 of Psalm 51.

² Wash me throughly from mine iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin.

³ For I acknowledge my transgressions: and my sin is ever before me.

These lines are meant as a pronunciation of human fallibility, of fault, failure and weakness. Even when other’s have wronged us, there are things we do, which are wrong. It is essential to not lose sight of this Mea Culpa.

And, I will not be graduating with my master’s as planned.

 

What this means is that things are changing. That the only certainty is uncertainty.

This is not the first, and like not the last time, I have written about my experiences at SFSU.

I was called Racist. A transphobe. Biggot. Violent. White Privilege, White Guilt, White Fragility, White Rage. Male Privilege. Hetro-Cis Privilege.

In my General Education classes, I was asked “when did I last menstruate” and was told if I had never menstruated, I was not allowed to speak. This was in EED784, during Spring 2023.

I think at this point, I am not afraid of being called names. I have been called the worst of them.

I have been kicked out of my first program at SFSU—Orientation and Mobility—on false accusations.

I lost 15 credits (5 classes)—one year of schooling.

I lost 1 year’s worth of savings (on those courses from O&M).

I have listened to the ideologically entrenched left. I have seen their hatred and survived it.

 

But I will not return the favor.

 

My great-grandfather was a man of violence from the stories I have heard.

And from experience, I know my grandfather was born into that same violence. He was a Korea War veteran, POW and fireman.

His upbringing was brutal and as a result so was my mother’s.

There are things of this matter, which I cannot say, they cannot leave the fold of the familial table cloth. But they are generational wounds which are duly appointed heritage.

As Tim said to my mother, “You are good for nothing. All you will do is get pregnant and then I will have another bill to pay.” As the first born of my family, 1991 when my mother was in her early 30s, it was some 20 years after he said those words to her that she proved him wrong.

There are some wheels which must be turned. The Wheel of Forgiveness, Inspiration and Hope.

There are some wheels which must broke. The Wheel of Hate, Violence and Resent.

My mother and father fought to break the Wheel of Resent.

And they sacrificed for my sake, and my sister’s, to turn the Wheel of Hope.

My Grandpa Tim loved my father and was proud of my mother for the choice she had made in picking him. Tim regarded my father as an educated yet pragmatic man and in that spirit recanted his earlier sentiments. Our family was his pride because he saw, somehow, things could “work-out” in the end. And for that reason, he found his peace. In my childhood I knew Tim was a veteran, having seen and borne much more than his fair share. And yet he was at peace. As a child, we would drive to their home on 24th and Taravel. Towards the end, before his battle with cancer, he would visit us on Saturdays. We would go to the Hiller Aviation Museum, he had a fondness for planes and had painted a few scenes from WWI of the Red Barron. After years of being a sailor in the merchant marines (prior to his time in Korea) I think he preferred the skies to the seas. From Lions to Lambs, Swords to Plowshares—Timothy Lyons found his peace.

I just want to be on with my life and find a similar peace. Which brings me back to Pslam 51.

Once again, I find myself, wronged by another. And, if left to my own devices—when I would otherwise Judge—I am asked to instead, forgive. This is something Hansel was trying to help me work on.

[on a side note: no wonder Return of the Jedi is such a corn-ball film. To a cynic, the Ewoks of Endor are unforgivable ending (even to non-cynics they’re at least dumb or in poor-taste) but it kinda makes sense to have a bunch of rug-rats around a campfire celebrating the new future as an ending to a Post-Apocalyptic drama. In my younger years, I always wondered—what happened to Max. Forget these kids, what about leaving the Max behind in the desert? But that’s kind of the whole point of Jesus, right? He’s supposed to die horribly…]

So much of everything leading to this point has been this deranged march to Gallipoli.

And the funny thing is…

 

Everyone is quiet right now. They’re all expecting me to lose my mind and melt down or something.

That’s not going to happen.

 

But, I do think I’ll play a bit of soup prank on them.

I won’t contact anyone in the department, and instead, show up to the CSB graduation ceremony—unannounced—and see who soils the bed.

I was planning on going to walk. But even if I am not walking, I am going anyway to support my peers who graduated. Comradery is rare these days and keeping you word is what gives someone reputational currency. I’m tired of this “Death By Committee” bullshit from SFSU. But they will lose that game because they will tire before I do and that is how I will win.

But in the mean time, a little psychological warfare seems… fair, since “All victories, inevitably come at a cost.”

I will take the Master’s exam a second time. However many times necessary.

I will leave SFSU with my masters.

Leave this chapter behind.

And in doing so, recite my prayer of contrition.

For as those who have trespassed against me are due forgiveness, as am I.

Until then, enjoy some drum and bass. It’s good workout music.

 

– Keenan Fry

4/15/24 @ 2:28 am