Bombastic Bombs--but there is more.

On June 23, at approximately 6 p.m., I read that Iran bombed a U.S. military base in Qatar. I nervously called my sister to talk about this latest development.

She said, "There is a cease fire!"

My brother-in-law added, "Iran did not cause any fatalities. The attack was a message that they could potentially cause harm."

To those comments, I said, "How can Trump unilaterally announce a cease fire so quickly?"

Later that night, I read the news on my phone which did not clarify anything for me. It seemed that Israel and Iran were sending bombs, drones, or missiles back and forth.

The next morning, I saw a video clip on my phone from the New York Times. The regime leader (the president) said "fuck" (referring to Israel and Iran) in an angry comment to the press. I was shocked, but newscasters were unfazed. I realized, yet again, that nothing is surprising anymore. I might use the word with close friends and family but not in public. We already know we have an unhinged leader at the top with cowardly synchophants surrounding him. He can say whatever he wants.

Experts negotiate cease fires. The president does not unilaterally decide there is a cease fire on social media. Later that morning, I learned that Qatar and the United States brokered the cease fire. I do not trust the cease fire or the bombing on Saturday night, June 21. Qatar, Trump, Iran, and Netanyahu do nothing for "free." Two days later, experts debate the impact of the U.S. military operation. It might have been a huge waste of tax payer money.

I digress.

Positive activities still occur admist the tumult. They do not get sufficient attention. Juneteenth, last week, was a fine example. Different events are planned every year in Montgomery County, Maryland (outside of Washington, D.C). I have attended several in the last few years. Last Thursday, I decided to attend a talk at the newly refurbished Scotland A.M.E. Zion Church in Potomac, MD.

The small white clapboard building was flooded in 2019, due to a devastating rain storm and drainage problems on the two lane road beside the church. The building reopened this March with a new foundation. The inside is fresh and new. The outside has been landscaped. The restoration project was funded by private, corporate, local, and state contributions. The church was built in 1924 by freed men and women from a community nearby named Scotland.

The small church is part of a larger story, never told in history classes or in the media until recently. Free Blacks and emancipated enslaved people formed vibrant self-sufficient neighborhoods in Montgomery County. These communities were formed from the 18th to the 20th century. There were 40 localities in Montgomery County at one time. Speakers spoke about their own communities, where they were raised and resided. Lincoln Park, Sandy Spring, Damascuus, Tobytown, Ken-Gar, Lyttonsville, Stewarttown, Emory Grove, and Scotland were represented.

Much like other groups throughout the world, the residents took care of their own. First, they built a church and a school. Then medical facilities, recreation, retail, and cultural entities were founded. One speaker spoke proudly about a sports team; another talked about well-known entertainers--on their way to D.C.-- who stopped in the small villages to perform. Black people were not allowed in most Washington D.C. entertainment venues until the mid to late 20th century.

The demise and deterioration of these communities was partly caused by the lack of potable water and sewage systems. The cost to build the infrastructure for these utilities was too high for the residents. The neighborhoods were forced to sell their land to the county or private developers. The price they received was a pittance compared to what the developers made when they turned the land into affluent white enclaves. If the county purchased the land, public housing was erected with units for rent. The small houses and apartments were not well maintained. The children attended the public schools. The peoples' retail, cultural, recreational, and medical needs were met in the markets, theaters, playgrounds, and malls used by the general public. Close knit family and localized support systems vanished. Crime increased. The rest is the sad story of the death of vital black communities. By the 1970's, the former lively districts disappeared for the most part.

Now, we hear the people's stories, what was lost, remembered, and regained. The speakers I heard were proud of their pasts and determined to demonstrate their dignity and strength. They would not be placated or dislocated again. When people tell their stories and the audience listens, bridges of understanding are formed from one group to another.

©Karen Levi 2025