* Okay, I'm done with winter. A ubiquitous opinion, I know, and I am stating the obvious. At least the sun was out today.
* Gov. Blago is now ex-governor. Thankfully. As a native of the great state that bills itself as the "Land of Lincoln," I would like our local newsreaders on both radio and television to make note of the following: it is pronounced ILL-inois, NOT ELL-inois. (And I do love to hear you try to say "Blagojevich.")
* I'm sick to death of egos. I witnessed - and was unable to do anything about - a pissing contest today between two people whose egos were in overdrive. There was a third person involved - the one caught in the rainfall of urea. These two so-called adults were really pissing on each other, but from a distance, with #3 in a position of trying to accomodate both and catching the spray. Some people really need to get over themselves.
* On the other hand, I'm feeling really good about the goings-on in Washington. Well, not in Washington as a whole - just in the White H0use. (Congress - at least on the House side - continues to act like children - Democrats and Republicans alike. We'll see how the Senate behaves on the economic stimulus bill.)
I know it's fashionable to be cynical; disdainful is cool. (I've often been both myself - and probably will be again.) But I've been reading a lot of history lately about the start of this messed-up country in which we reside - biographies of Ben Franklin and Alexander Hamilton the two latest - and it's amazing we survived. (The Articles of Confederation almost did us in long before the Civil War.) It's been a dysfunctional journey, to be sure, but look at those 200+ years of (often painfully slow) progress, then look around at the rest of the world, and you realize the truth of Winston Churchill's words:
It has been said that democracy is the worst form of government
(pause)
except all the others that have been tried.
So to those of you who looked down your nose at those of us misting up at the Obama inauguration: up yours.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
Nana Redux
Nana, as I’ve mentioned before, was our ‘woo-woo’ grandmother. She was proud of being a co-founder of the Cleveland congregation of the Spiritualist Church which, she carefully and regularly explained to me, believed in two things: the Golden Rule and communication with the dead.
Nana lived with us from 1956 to 1963. I was 12 when she died.
My earliest memory of her is of the tea parties she hosted for me. She lived in an apartment over a drug store and had a seemingly vast collection of teacups, teapots, and all the necessary paraphernalia for serving tea. Her whole apartment was a collection: glass globe lamps, plush velvety couches you could sink into, doilies on everything, and gleaming wood everywhere, both furniture and floors.
She’d let me choose the teacup I wanted. Usually I went for the bling: a shiny gold cup and saucer with a mother-of-pearl interior. The gold was finely filigreed and the inside of the cup glowed in an opalescent rainbow of colors. I thought it was beautiful.
Every now and then, I’d select one of her tiniest cups, maybe twice the size of a thimble. She had several with raised dragons flying around the cup and saucer. I liked those, too, even though they required constant refilling. Nana didn’t mind.
Actually, Nana never seemed to mind anything. A truly gentle soul and one of the most Christian women I’ve known. She quietly lived the Golden Rule, though she wasn’t above stretching the truth.
Born sometime in the 1890’s - she lied about her age and I’m not certain – she had to quit school in the eighth grade to go to work and help support her family. Her father had left them.
When she told me stories of that time in her life, her father was never mentioned. Instead, I heard about her setting pins in a two-lane bowling alley or playing the piano and organ in the silent movie theatres.
When the “talkies” came along, she needed a new source of income and decided to go into real estate. There was one big problem, though: the state of Ohio required real estate agents to have a high school diploma. So Nana told them she’d graduated from a high school that had burned to the ground. The fire, of course, had taken any records with it. (No computers in those days, boys and girls.)
By the time I came into the picture, she’d built her own real estate agency. I remember visiting her at her office in downtown Cleveland’s Arcade Building. It was a magical place – Cleveland’s first skyscraper (all of nine stories) built in 1890. It was a ‘50’s version of a shopping mall: you entered a five-story atrium covered by glass and metal, connecting the two nine story towers. There were shops and an area with lots of games to play – I remember pinball and bowling.
Nana’s office was a little boring in comparison. At least to a five year old…
Nana at work - circa 1955
Nana lived with us from 1956 to 1963. I was 12 when she died.
My earliest memory of her is of the tea parties she hosted for me. She lived in an apartment over a drug store and had a seemingly vast collection of teacups, teapots, and all the necessary paraphernalia for serving tea. Her whole apartment was a collection: glass globe lamps, plush velvety couches you could sink into, doilies on everything, and gleaming wood everywhere, both furniture and floors.
She’d let me choose the teacup I wanted. Usually I went for the bling: a shiny gold cup and saucer with a mother-of-pearl interior. The gold was finely filigreed and the inside of the cup glowed in an opalescent rainbow of colors. I thought it was beautiful.
Every now and then, I’d select one of her tiniest cups, maybe twice the size of a thimble. She had several with raised dragons flying around the cup and saucer. I liked those, too, even though they required constant refilling. Nana didn’t mind.
Actually, Nana never seemed to mind anything. A truly gentle soul and one of the most Christian women I’ve known. She quietly lived the Golden Rule, though she wasn’t above stretching the truth.
Born sometime in the 1890’s - she lied about her age and I’m not certain – she had to quit school in the eighth grade to go to work and help support her family. Her father had left them.
When she told me stories of that time in her life, her father was never mentioned. Instead, I heard about her setting pins in a two-lane bowling alley or playing the piano and organ in the silent movie theatres.
When the “talkies” came along, she needed a new source of income and decided to go into real estate. There was one big problem, though: the state of Ohio required real estate agents to have a high school diploma. So Nana told them she’d graduated from a high school that had burned to the ground. The fire, of course, had taken any records with it. (No computers in those days, boys and girls.)
By the time I came into the picture, she’d built her own real estate agency. I remember visiting her at her office in downtown Cleveland’s Arcade Building. It was a magical place – Cleveland’s first skyscraper (all of nine stories) built in 1890. It was a ‘50’s version of a shopping mall: you entered a five-story atrium covered by glass and metal, connecting the two nine story towers. There were shops and an area with lots of games to play – I remember pinball and bowling.
Nana’s office was a little boring in comparison. At least to a five year old…
Nana at work - circa 1955Saturday, January 24, 2009
Old, Fat, Naked Women for Peace
Background:
July 14, 2002
ESCRAVOS, Nigeria (AP) -- Unarmed village women holding 700 ChevronTexaco workers inside a southeast Nigeria oil terminal let 200 of the men go Sunday but threatened a traditional and powerful shaming gesture if the others try to leave -- removing their own clothes.
"Our weapon is our nakedness," said Helen Odeworitse, a representative for the villagers in the extraordinary week-old protest for jobs, electricity and development in Nigeria's oil-rich Niger Delta.
Most Nigerian tribes consider unwanted displays of nudity by wives, mothers or grandmothers as an extremely damning protest measure that can inspire a collective source of shame for those at whom the action is directed.
About 600 women from two nearby communities are holding ChevronTexaco's giant Escravos terminal. They range in age from 30 to 90 -- with the core group being married women aged 40 or older.
The women want the oil giant to hire their sons and use some of the region's oil riches to develop their remote and run-down villages -- most of which lack even electricity. The people in the Niger Delta are among the poorest in Nigeria, despite living on the oil-rich land.
ChevronTexaco officials have refused to identify the trapped workers, but an employee at the plant said Wednesday they included Americans, Britons and Canadians as well as Nigerians.
Both sides took a break Sunday from their often heated negotiations. They were to meet again Monday, Odeworitse said.
July 16, 2002:
Women protesters who have besieged an oil terminal in southern Nigeria for more than a week say they have reached a deal with the refinery owners to end their blockade.
One of the protest leaders, Anunu Uwawah, told the Associated Press (AP) news agency: "It is settled. We stay today, but once the paper is signed, we will leave."
She said the firm - Chevron Nigeria - had satisfied the women's demands by agreeing to hire more than two dozen villagers and build schools, water systems and other amenities.
My cousin Paula sent me the following - a little dated now that Bush is gone - but funny nonetheless:
July 14, 2002
ESCRAVOS, Nigeria (AP) -- Unarmed village women holding 700 ChevronTexaco workers inside a southeast Nigeria oil terminal let 200 of the men go Sunday but threatened a traditional and powerful shaming gesture if the others try to leave -- removing their own clothes.
"Our weapon is our nakedness," said Helen Odeworitse, a representative for the villagers in the extraordinary week-old protest for jobs, electricity and development in Nigeria's oil-rich Niger Delta.
Most Nigerian tribes consider unwanted displays of nudity by wives, mothers or grandmothers as an extremely damning protest measure that can inspire a collective source of shame for those at whom the action is directed.
About 600 women from two nearby communities are holding ChevronTexaco's giant Escravos terminal. They range in age from 30 to 90 -- with the core group being married women aged 40 or older.
The women want the oil giant to hire their sons and use some of the region's oil riches to develop their remote and run-down villages -- most of which lack even electricity. The people in the Niger Delta are among the poorest in Nigeria, despite living on the oil-rich land.
ChevronTexaco officials have refused to identify the trapped workers, but an employee at the plant said Wednesday they included Americans, Britons and Canadians as well as Nigerians.
Both sides took a break Sunday from their often heated negotiations. They were to meet again Monday, Odeworitse said.
July 16, 2002:
Women protesters who have besieged an oil terminal in southern Nigeria for more than a week say they have reached a deal with the refinery owners to end their blockade.
One of the protest leaders, Anunu Uwawah, told the Associated Press (AP) news agency: "It is settled. We stay today, but once the paper is signed, we will leave."
She said the firm - Chevron Nigeria - had satisfied the women's demands by agreeing to hire more than two dozen villagers and build schools, water systems and other amenities.
My cousin Paula sent me the following - a little dated now that Bush is gone - but funny nonetheless:
Friday, January 23, 2009
Who's That Knocking on My Door?
So this morning about 5:30 I'm grabbing a cup of coffee in the kitchen when the little cat comes scurrying through the cat door in the laundry room, whips around, fur slightly raised, and gives one of those intense cat stares at the opening he's just come through.
I figure it's the old cat. I hear the cat door open, then swing shut, then nothing.
I go to the laundry room door, switch on the outside light, open it to the cold - nothing.
Just to be sure, I look in my office and there's the old black cat sound asleep in the basket next to my computer.
What the hell was trying to get into my house????
I live in the woods. A childhood in various suburbs, most of my adulthood in Midtown, and now a house Mr. D and I built ourselves in the middle of a small forest at the edge of KCMO. I am a city girl, and I've enjoyed the sightings of deer, fox, wild turkeys, raccoons, etc. that we've seen over the years.
They are not, however, allowed inside the house. And now I'm thinking of all those "funniest" home videos showing raccoons coming through a cat door in the middle of the night to feast on cat and dog food.
Shit.
I figure it's the old cat. I hear the cat door open, then swing shut, then nothing.
I go to the laundry room door, switch on the outside light, open it to the cold - nothing.
Just to be sure, I look in my office and there's the old black cat sound asleep in the basket next to my computer.
What the hell was trying to get into my house????
I live in the woods. A childhood in various suburbs, most of my adulthood in Midtown, and now a house Mr. D and I built ourselves in the middle of a small forest at the edge of KCMO. I am a city girl, and I've enjoyed the sightings of deer, fox, wild turkeys, raccoons, etc. that we've seen over the years.
They are not, however, allowed inside the house. And now I'm thinking of all those "funniest" home videos showing raccoons coming through a cat door in the middle of the night to feast on cat and dog food.
Shit.
Outer Darkness
I ask myself every year about this time: why don't I live in San Diego?
Winter can be fun for awhile: it's new and it's the holidays. You don't so much mind the snow (though the traffic is often a bitch) because everything looks like a Currier & Ives.
Once New Year's is over, however, reality returns: cold, dark, snow, ice, and wind that cuts to the proverbial bone.
One of my favorite meditation books is based on the seasons of nature. A phrase I particularly like: "Outer darkness calls for nourishment within."
A time to take our cue from the world around us. A time to slow down and hunker down. A time to reflect, to go within.
But I think I'm also gonna go to Florida.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Now What Happens?
* I liked this move on his first day: Obama authorizes a bunch of new regulations providing, as he put it, light to the dark corners of Washington. Transparency is a good thing.
* And - just to be safe - Chief Justice John Roberts re-adminsters the Presidential oath of office again. Since he messed up yesterday, and since the Constitution specifies the language, he and Mr. Obama did it again today. This is apparently not the first time this has happened: Chester Arthur (????) and Calvin Coolidge both re-oathed.
* I'm hearing/reading lots of comments to the effect of "what was with that hat???" Yes, the chapeau worn by the Queen of Soul was somewhat bizarre to us white women who think of hats as more utilitarian than statement. Aretha was wearing a "church hat," the kind of flamboyant hat chronicled in the book and exhibit, "Crowns: Portraits of Black Women in Church Hats." This video from some local TV station in Virginia explains it best.
Warning: turn your sound down. The video starts up suddenly with a commercial that will blast you out of your seat.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Inauguration Day Arrives...
...and my overwhelming emotion is one of relief.
Relief that the clueless bozo at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue is movin' on out.
Relief that we won't be subject any longer to the arrogance and hubris demonstrated by the Bush administration.
Relief that maybe - just maybe - I can hold my head up when I go beyond the borders of my country.
Not that I'm expecting miracles. But it is a moment to be proud and hopeful.
So pride and hope are in there, too, along with relief and great satisfaction that the Bush II era is over.
Relief that the clueless bozo at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue is movin' on out.
Relief that we won't be subject any longer to the arrogance and hubris demonstrated by the Bush administration.
Relief that maybe - just maybe - I can hold my head up when I go beyond the borders of my country.
Not that I'm expecting miracles. But it is a moment to be proud and hopeful.
So pride and hope are in there, too, along with relief and great satisfaction that the Bush II era is over.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Relative warmth
Left church and didn't bother putting my coat on. Checked the thermometer when I got home: 43 degrees. A veritable heat wave!
What would bring out the winter coats and gloves in September feels like spring after the cold spell we've just had. It's all relative...
Driving home, I listened to "A Prairie Home Companion" and heard Garrison Keillor express a thought I've often had about winter: "Mother Nature is telling you that you don't belong here."
Instead of acting like the nomads we are and moving our tents south for the winter, he said, we've built these permanent structures (infrastructure if you will) that Mother Nature does her best to destroy. (Anyone who's lived without electricity for days in the cold, dark depths of winter knows what I'm talking about.)
Granted, Keillor is talking about a fictional town in frozen-for-months Minnesota. It's not as bad here - we get the (relatively) balmy breaks now and then, like the one we're experiencing today.
But if I ruled the world, nobody would have to venture out when Mother Nature turned on us. (Unless, of course, you were essential - firefighters, medics, snowplow operators, etc.) The rest of us would stay inside our permanent tents and watch the weather channel.
What would bring out the winter coats and gloves in September feels like spring after the cold spell we've just had. It's all relative...
Driving home, I listened to "A Prairie Home Companion" and heard Garrison Keillor express a thought I've often had about winter: "Mother Nature is telling you that you don't belong here."
Instead of acting like the nomads we are and moving our tents south for the winter, he said, we've built these permanent structures (infrastructure if you will) that Mother Nature does her best to destroy. (Anyone who's lived without electricity for days in the cold, dark depths of winter knows what I'm talking about.)
Granted, Keillor is talking about a fictional town in frozen-for-months Minnesota. It's not as bad here - we get the (relatively) balmy breaks now and then, like the one we're experiencing today.
But if I ruled the world, nobody would have to venture out when Mother Nature turned on us. (Unless, of course, you were essential - firefighters, medics, snowplow operators, etc.) The rest of us would stay inside our permanent tents and watch the weather channel.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Bird Buffet
Picked a good day to work from home. I knew I'd be suffering from round 2 of a root canal (think punch in the mouth) and this morning turned out to be one in which to avoid driving. Especially on I-35, thanks to a 10-car pile-up that shut the interstate down completely.
Driving on slickness scares the bejeesus out of me (think white knuckles and sick to the stomach). Thank God and the Internet for telecommuting.
The snowfall brought out the birds - finches, juncoes, titmice, and a flock of cardinals, bright spots of red, the only color in the landscape. The feeders were busy - easier than foraging in this weather. It was an all-day show...
We've set up a buffet for the birds: thistle for the finches and chickadees; suet for the woodpeckers; sunflower seeds for the cardinals. And today the cardinals were out in force.
Though territorial during mating season, they tend to flock together in winter. They especially love sunflower seeds and peanuts, and prefer a "hopper" style feeder, as shown above. It's apparently easier on their little feet.
The experts say cardinals are monogamous during breeding season, but, from my observation, they seem to be paired up year-round. Mating behavior involves the male feeding the female.
My kind of guy: faithful, and he feeds you.
Driving on slickness scares the bejeesus out of me (think white knuckles and sick to the stomach). Thank God and the Internet for telecommuting.
The snowfall brought out the birds - finches, juncoes, titmice, and a flock of cardinals, bright spots of red, the only color in the landscape. The feeders were busy - easier than foraging in this weather. It was an all-day show...
We've set up a buffet for the birds: thistle for the finches and chickadees; suet for the woodpeckers; sunflower seeds for the cardinals. And today the cardinals were out in force.
Though territorial during mating season, they tend to flock together in winter. They especially love sunflower seeds and peanuts, and prefer a "hopper" style feeder, as shown above. It's apparently easier on their little feet.
The experts say cardinals are monogamous during breeding season, but, from my observation, they seem to be paired up year-round. Mating behavior involves the male feeding the female.
My kind of guy: faithful, and he feeds you.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Winter
It's 14 degrees and the thermometer is dropping fast. Winds are gusty and from the northwest. The weather service is predicting wind chills of -15 overnight.
Good to be safe and warm inside my house; good to have heat and electricity; good to have a pot of chili simmering on the stove.
And good to have a job to help pay for it all.
I'm counting my blessings tonight.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
On the Dole
Unemployment numbers came out the other day, evidence that it's just as grim out there as they're saying it is: 524,000 jobs lost in December for a total loss in 2008 of 2.6 million jobs - the highest since 1945.
Every day brings a new story about layoffs - or pending layoffs. I know good, talented people who are suddenly finding themselves without gainful employment in a job market that absolutely sucks. They're putting a brave face on it, but I know exactly how they're feeling.
I was let go several years ago, and spent the next 13 months on the dole. It was the worst 13 months of my life. (If I'd known there'd be a happy ending once those months had passed, I could have treated it like a really extended vacation and relaxed and enjoyed the time off. But it didn't work out that way.)
It was hell. Not only was I out of work, but there was absolutely nothing available in KC in my then-chosen profession. It was move to another market or do something else. But do what???
So, for too long, I did nothing (or just enough to keep the unemployment checks coming). I've always liked to read, but during that period I was addicted, reading constantly, panicking as I closed one book if another wasn't near at hand. (I read Jane Eyre one day and Wuthering Heights the next, for example, and managed to give myself a bad case of eyestrain. But I still kept reading. Better to be in 19th century England than 20th century Kansas City.)
My self-esteem was non-existent. My savings slowly evaporated. But then, something shifted and I came out of hiding. I began investigating some new possibilities and cobbling together a variety of part-time things - freelance writing, teaching a couple classes at UMKC, and some other stuff. Got a little money coming in when - at the 13 month mark - a job offer materialized in left field and started me down a new path.
So if you find yourself in a similar position, here's the best advice I can offer:
Remember, you are not your job. We're such a work-obsessed society, defining ourselves and others by what job we do and what position we hold...
Get over it. You've lost a job. You haven't lost your identity, your good and bad qualities, your history. Yes, you've had a sucker punch to the gut, your world is entirely different, and you haven't a clue what to do next. But you haven't been diminished.
Shrug your shoulders and do what you need to do - which includes wailing and gnashing of teeth if you feel like it. Loss of a job is like a death, and expect to go through all the usual stages, from denial to anger to eventual acceptance. Do all that the advisers advise: network, reach out, go to support groups, whatever.
Now's not the time to hole up like I did.
Every day brings a new story about layoffs - or pending layoffs. I know good, talented people who are suddenly finding themselves without gainful employment in a job market that absolutely sucks. They're putting a brave face on it, but I know exactly how they're feeling.
I was let go several years ago, and spent the next 13 months on the dole. It was the worst 13 months of my life. (If I'd known there'd be a happy ending once those months had passed, I could have treated it like a really extended vacation and relaxed and enjoyed the time off. But it didn't work out that way.)
It was hell. Not only was I out of work, but there was absolutely nothing available in KC in my then-chosen profession. It was move to another market or do something else. But do what???
So, for too long, I did nothing (or just enough to keep the unemployment checks coming). I've always liked to read, but during that period I was addicted, reading constantly, panicking as I closed one book if another wasn't near at hand. (I read Jane Eyre one day and Wuthering Heights the next, for example, and managed to give myself a bad case of eyestrain. But I still kept reading. Better to be in 19th century England than 20th century Kansas City.)
My self-esteem was non-existent. My savings slowly evaporated. But then, something shifted and I came out of hiding. I began investigating some new possibilities and cobbling together a variety of part-time things - freelance writing, teaching a couple classes at UMKC, and some other stuff. Got a little money coming in when - at the 13 month mark - a job offer materialized in left field and started me down a new path.
So if you find yourself in a similar position, here's the best advice I can offer:
Remember, you are not your job. We're such a work-obsessed society, defining ourselves and others by what job we do and what position we hold...
Get over it. You've lost a job. You haven't lost your identity, your good and bad qualities, your history. Yes, you've had a sucker punch to the gut, your world is entirely different, and you haven't a clue what to do next. But you haven't been diminished.
Shrug your shoulders and do what you need to do - which includes wailing and gnashing of teeth if you feel like it. Loss of a job is like a death, and expect to go through all the usual stages, from denial to anger to eventual acceptance. Do all that the advisers advise: network, reach out, go to support groups, whatever.
Now's not the time to hole up like I did.
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