Tsk, Tsk Mr. President. Are You For Us Or Against Us?

We place high hopes in our presidents each time they take office. And me, Jane, Pollyanna of Blog World (ok, in the real world, too) was so energized and excited during the 2008 election year. It was wonderful to see people passionate about their candidates. This was not a campaign for the apathetic. People voted in droves. I loved the message of hope and renewal each presidential candidate promised, but that Barak Obama truly embodied.

President Obama is a great orator. And I believe all Americans hope and pray that he is the great leader his speeches imply he can be.

But then, he delivers a speech like this one at the University of Wisconsin.

President Obama spoke to a crowd at the University of Wisconsin on September 28th. First he said this,

“I hoped and expected that we could get beyond some of the old political divides between Democrats and Republicans, blue states and red states, that had prevented us from making progress for so long because although we are proud to be Democrats, we are prouder to be Americans.”

And then he said this,

“The other side would have you believe this election is a referendum on me or a referendum on the economy, a referendum on anything except them.  But make no mistake.  This election is a choice.  And the choice could not be clearer.”

And then this,

“If the other side does win, they will spend the next two years fighting for the very same policies that led to this recession in the first place.”

Whether we believe these comments is irrelevant.

What is relevant is that our President (and I mean our in every sense of the word) is pitting two sides of our great country against one another. To me, this is akin to a parent of two children, choosing the side of one child and egging that particular child on in the fight. Supporting him. Cheering for him.

Argue with me all you will but our President, my President should save this rhetoric for his own campaign speech. Now that he is in his elected office, his job should be to unite the country, not divide it.

Oh sure, his job right now is to drum up support for his party so that the nasty, evil step-child doesn’t snag the bigger bedroom.

There are other people who might be better suited for a divisive speech such as this. A leader in the democratic party who is not currently representing all constituents in their region.

There is a better place for this type of speech. A rally of Democrats, for example. Not a public forum of mixed company.

And there are ways to do this without causing a great emotional divide. 

First,  mention the names of the Democratic candidates you support in your speech. By name. Democratic gubernatorial candidate Tom Barrett. Or U.S. Senate Democrat, Russ Feingold. Tell America (or in this case, Wisconsin) to vote for them. Because you agree with their policy. Because you know they will work for all of us to better America.  Because they stand for what you think is right for America. Logically point out their value to the American people with examples.

But to pit both sides squarely against each other. To throw an emotional blanket over the issues at hand. To call the sides “us” and “them.” To lump all people with a D as the perfect child and all people with an R next to their name as the other, awful, evil step-child?

Suicide, my dear Mr. President. Suicide.

When I heard him calling it an us vs. them fight? (Insert loud scratching sound of the needle to the 33rpm record here.) I wanted to say, “Whaaaaaaaa?”

Didn’t you just say you are proud to be a Democrat but you are prouder to be an American? If you’re not about uniting this great country of ours, what are you about?

Every American out there that voted Republican in the 2008 election, that has been admiring your progress, enjoying the hope and change you have promised our dear country, will be offended. They will hear your rallying cry of us vs. them and they will side with the group they feel comfortable  and familiar with. They may even passionately show up to the polls in droves, hoping to defeat the golden child running against their underdog.

I have been a voting member of society for over 25 years now. Some of my candidates have won. Some have lost. But always. Always. I have supported the president that did get elected to office.

I don’t speak badly of my president.

Ever.

I may disagree. I may be embarrassed by his actions. I may hold my breath each time he opens his mouth to speak. But I stand firmly behind his leadership because he now represents ALL of America.

All of Americans.

All of us.

I Grieve. Or I Am A Rock. Take Your Pick.

 Two weeks ago, my brother-in-law died.

Yesterday was the anniversary of my daughter’s boyfriend’s death.

Today, my aunt died.

It’s been a rough few weeks. To make matters worse, my aunt wasn’t doing well for the past week or so and I had no idea. She lives over 2000 miles away and we kept in touch through emails and holiday cards. My parents knew. But chose not to tell me. (Dysfunction is alive and well in my family.) I already live with the regret of my last visit with my grandmother. And while I feel good about how I maintained my relationship with my aunt, it bothers me in this moment that I didn’t get the chance to talk to her one more time. If I had known she wasn’t doing well, I would have called her. She’s not the type to email me and tell me she’s suffering. And I had no idea.

“I grieve for you
You leave me
Let it out and move on
Missing what’s gone
They say life carries on
They say life carries on and on and on” – The grief in me misses the relatives and friends who have passed. This part of life sucks. Losing people. Good people. People who are loving, kind, fill you with joy. And because I’m getting older I’m in for more loss. How do you reconcile that? How to adjust? We carry on. But with more lonely moments than before.

 

“I’ve built walls,
A fortress deep and mighty,
That none may penetrate.
I have no need of friendship; friendship causes pain.
It’s laughter and it’s loving I disdain.
I am a rock,
I am an island

And a rock feels no pain;
And an island never cries.” – Anger. At my parents for cutting me off like this. Punishing me for not playing by their rules. Anger at the loss I’ve experienced and the more to come. I will get through this. But for now I want to be an island. I want to never cry. I want to feel no pain.

 

Or

Take your pick.

If I Could Have Just One, Make That Ten, Do-overs

If  I could just have one do-over, I would have let Scott kiss me and said, “Yes. I will go with you.” (“go with” as in date…well, as much as you can date when you’re in the 6th grade.)

If I could have nine more do-overs? I would have…

…gone to law school immediately after college. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200.

…found a way to live closer to my favorite place in the world. (Don’t laugh) Yes, that would be Disney World.

…stopped every stupid lesson plan that started going wrong and pushed my students harder instead of letting them (goof off) explore their creative impulses.  

…stood up to my mother more in my twenties when I was an adult and in charge of my life.

…pushed and pursued a singing career with a little more effort. Opportunities just fell into my lap and I took them all for granted.

…called my grandparents more often and begged to hear story after story after story and written every single one of them down afterwards.

…listened to my mid-wife when she told me that losing weight after a baby is difficult. Even more difficult when you’re having one at age forty. And then, I would have eaten less and better.

…been a heck of a lot more confident in high school. Because, really. How much of that crap matters now?

…waited until I was a little bit older and a little bit wiser to get married for the first time.

But I didn’t.

I said no to Scott, let’s just be friends. (even though I had a killer crush on him) I floundered after college. I stayed in the same place after college. I let my students run over me sometimes, not wanting to squash their creativity. I let my mother dictate my life until I was in my 40’s. I thought there would always be singing opportunities. I talked more about my life with my grandparents than I listened about theirs. I fed my cravings of ice cream and McDonald’s french fries when I was pregnant. I pretended I was confident in high school, but deep down I was pining to be the popular one. I married at the oh-so-wise age of 21 because, seriously, I knew everything there was to know about what was good for me.

But.

And it’s a big but.

I wouldn’t change a thing.

I have an amazing husband. Three fantastic, beautiful children. A career as a stay-at-home-mom – and who knew I would love it so much? I have a life with regrets and accomplishments and friends and scars. And I wouldn’t change a thing.

Because I like who I’ve become. And I wouldn’t be me without all my experiences.

So, if I could have ten do-overs? I wouldn’t do it.

Nope.

Because then, I wouldn’t be here.

Free Range, Cage Free Kids. But Not In My Backyard.

Part of my prayers every night include hopes for my children to be safe. Safe when I’m not around. Safe to make sound decisions. Safe from harm.

I don’t worry excessively – well, no more than the average mom. I’m aware of the dangers out there and just pray they don’t happen to my kids.

Switch gears.

I was coming home from dropping my kids off at school a little earlier than usual. And traffic was backed up. Once over the hill, I spot the culprit.

A school bus.

Stopping every few feet.

I kid you not.

I clocked it.

There were three stops in just a smidge over one tenth of a mile.

Back in my day (and yes, we had color TV and drive-thru McDonald’s) we walked to school.

Blocks. And lots of ’em. In fact, in my elementary school I only remember two school buses for the whole school. The rest of us?

We walked. Alone. Well, with friends, usually. Or siblings. But no mom hovering behind the bushes. At least, I didn’t see any. And I know my mom wasn’t hovering. She usually left for work before we did.

Kindergarten through 5th grade. Used those tiny legs of ours and…..walked!

The frustrating journey down our little two lane road this morning reminded me of a blog post I read recently by Gale at Ten Dollar Thoughts. She sends you to this NYT article here and then reminds you/me of a book I wanted to read that you can find here. Statistics can be your friend. Good sound statistics typically puts my mind at ease. And Gale pointed out that according to the NYT article you’d have to leave your child on a street corner for 750,000 hours to even prompt a kidnapping. And with my kid? He wouldn’t go without kicking and screaming, causing such a ruckus the kidnapper probably let go and need a Valium to settle down. I know. We’ve practiced.

Why in the world couldn’t middle-school-age students walk a few feet to meet in the middle? These were not tiny, helpless 5-year-olds boarding the bus. These were able-bodied teens.

We talk about our children’s health. We talk about our children’s safety. We worry. We plan. We strategize. And then we notice overweight kids. And socially stunted children. Anxiety ridden children taking prescription meds.

And we don’t point the finger back at ourselves and say, “Gee. Maybe I should concentrate on raising a more independent child. Maybe I should kick junior off the couch and send him outside to play. Maybe I should take her to the park more often so she can play with children other than her siblings.”

Now, I suppose you’re wondering, Jane, why is it you were driving your kids to school?

Well, I’ll tell you.

We choose a school that is located 15 miles away and doesn’t have bus service. And now I can just hear my friend laughing because when we moved here I told her we searched and searched for a home in a great school district, where our kids can go to school with kids from the same neighborhood. Our boys were 3 and 4 when we moved here and after our older daughter’s public school experience we researched a bit deeper and found a school more suited to our children’s needs and frankly, our values.

It’s a school that encourages independence. Compassion for others. Good health and nutrition. Organic living. Environmental awareness. Respect for other cultures. Embracing our individual, unique differences. A Montessori school.

I wish I lived within walking distance of our child’s school. I wish all the kids in the neighborhood walked together. But in our subdivision alone, I can think of eight different elementary schools used by the families that live here. And those are just the ones off the top of my head.

We are not a culture that values the neighborhood school. We have strayed so far off course in an effort to please everyone. To keep our kids safe. To offer a better education.

And 15 years down the road, I wonder how that decision will bite us in the butt?

Take The Time To See The Magic Around Us

This is such an interesting experiment.

And a huge reminder for all of us to slow down.

Breathe.

Enjoy. And see the magic.

There IS magic all around us if we would only take the time to look.

!!!

For more !!! visit Momalom or Bad Mommy Moments.

It’s True. Mother Nature Is Out To Get Us.

Remember a few months ago when I was talking about this book….

and how I couldn’t sleep after I read it?

To refresh your memory, it is yet another apocalyptic tome about evil terrorists who immobilize the entire electrical grid in the US (because all Americans are evil, of course). A high altitude nuclear bomb is set off and unleashes an electromagnetic pulse that paralyzes the United States. Death and destruction ensue. For over a year. The forward and afterword are written by a politician and a U.S. Captain in the Navy, telling us that this is a book describing not if these horrors will happen, but when, justifying their cause to get tough with terrorists.

Well.

I was listening to the news this morning.

And the book was right. It can happen. It probably will happen. But not by some evil dictator.

Oh no.

But by this cheerful, little guy.

Solar flares. They’re common. They happen all the time. But the big ones? The really, really huge solar flares? Happen about once a century. And we’re overdue.

Way overdue.

Scientists predict that the last really big one happened about 150 years ago. And because the only electrical-type system being used at the time was a telegraph, it only mildly paralyzed the area affected.

But today? When our very existence is dependent on electrical power? According to the scientist being interviewed, a really big one could paralyze an entire area (and we’re talking really big areas – like continents) for at best, a few months, most probably a year or more.

Are you kidding me? An evil terrorist I can deal with. (Well, two months ago I couldn’t deal with it but when you compare it to an act of nature, I can.) I can pray for a change of heart. I can send them love and light. But the sun? The whimsical, unpredictable flurries of the sun? Are you freakin’ kidding me?

I should just throw in the towel and start makin’ my sign.

This is so depressing.

I’m going back to bed.

Aye, Matey! Oh Wait. That Pirate Celebration Was So Yesterday.

Yesterday was International Talk Like A Pirate Day. Seriously, Matey. I’m not just barking up your barnacles. A real, bona-fide holiday. And dear Velva was celebrating with a wonderful drink recipe called The Salty Dog, the day before Talk Like A Pirate Day. I think she’s just a frustrated pirate wench, starting the celebration a wee bit early.

According to this site it was also Wife Appreciation Day. But when I researched it, another site said Wife Appreciation Day fell on September 15th this year. And yet another site suggests that it is always celebrated on the third Saturday of September. That would have been the 18th this year. Always celebrated? I haven’t heard a thing from my husband yet. Although he would argue, with so much disagreement on when this holiday falls, it must mean that every day is Wife Appreciation Day.

I’m still waiting for that to happen, too.

So by now, I’ll bet you’re wondering what we’re celebrating today, aren’t you?

National Women Road Warriors Day. To celebrate women who travel for work and still manage to run a sane household. Like my dear friend at The Absence of Alternatives, for example.

Or.

If that’s not enough to celebrate.

It is also National Punch Day. Maybe Velva or The Kitchen Witch could whip up a snazzy punch recipe for us?

Or do they mean punch? As in punch in the face? Well. I don’t hang with that crowd. So I have nowhere else to send you if you want to celebrate that way. My mom told me to stay away from the likes of you. And I listened.

It’s a pretty busy week if you’re looking for a reason to celebrate.

On Tuesday we have World Alzheimer’s Day.

On Wednesday it is Hobbit Day.

On Thursday it’s Dogs In Politics Day.

(I’m starting to feel a bit like the hungry caterpillar right about now.)

And on Friday, (oh – how appropriate) punctuating the end of a perfectly busy week is…

wait for it….

wait for it….

National Punctuation Day!

What will you celebrate this week?

What Does Your Facebook Page Say About You?

I have been both fascinated and repulsed by Facebook.

Strong words? Maybe. But let me explain.

I first began a Facebook account because my daughter wanted a MySpace account and I said, NO! I explored Facebook and tried to become adept at it, to stay one step ahead of my teen. Ha! She’s now had her account a year less than I have and she is light-years ahead of me in skill. We call her Tech-Support.

Sure, I connected with many people from my past that have been so nice to touch base with. Yes, it’s been so easy to check in with friends and family who live far away. I kind of like the little sound bites (every now and then) of what my friend is up to: how she’s buried in laundry or he just witnessed his daughter’s first step or letting me know of a great film I should see.

And then, an amazing thing happened to me with Facebook.

A dear, dear friend from high school and swim team popped up. We friended each other. We started catching up. And discovered that we live only 45 minutes away from each other, even though we grew up together 1000 miles away.

Freaky coincidence.

Our friendship is renewed. We crack each other up, just like old times. And marvel over the amazing thing that is Facebook.

I honestly don’t know how we would have found each other without it (or something like it.) Both sets of our parents have since moved away from our hometown. Friends are scattered far and wide. We may have been able to find each other another way, but it wouldn’t have been easy.

Not as easy as the click-type-click that it is on Facebook.

That’s the fascinating part.

What is repulsive is the self-absorbed culture it is turning us into. I don’t care about the minute by minute updates. You think you’re funny? But you are funny only about 10% of the time. In our neighborhood, Facebook has become a popularity contest. It reminds me of high school – the public bragging about vacations and which party you just attended and the great time you had with Biff, Skip and Buffy. 

I now hide certain people (because I don’t have the guts to unfriend them) so I’m not tempted to fall into their trap.  Wondering why I wasn’t invited to the girl’s night out. Or pool party. Wondering why we can’t afford the cruise or trip to Europe or new car. Reading their brag posts, I find myself slipping into a keeping-up-with-the-Joneses mentality that I abhor.

So I hide. I ignore their posts as if they didn’t exist. I stick my head in the sand and create my own little bubble.

And then there’s the trick of people finding you on Facebook when you don’t want to be found. A dark period of my past came up and almost bit me. I ignored the friend request and panicked. How much had he found out about me and my adult life? Did I have all the right privacy settings in place? Why oh why was it so easy for this stalker to find me again?

Tech-Support (dear daughter) assured me that he only saw my name. And then she taught be how to disappear from him and any of the close friends I could remember that he had by blocking him and the rest of his posse.

Close call.

Rogue Pictures

NPR had an interesting review of two up-coming films about Facebook. Catfish (about a Facebook friendship) and The Social Network (about how Facebook got started) They both sound very interesting and I look forward to checking them out. But what interested me more was the way in which Bob Mondello (the NPR reviewer) chose to describe his “like” of the films. It is a clever review that is worth the listen.

And like Bob, I don’t want to say much more than that. But it got me thinking about how our lives have changed forever with social networks and how we now operate. How soundbites and friending and unfriending have become normal, every day behavior that influences how we operate and what we expect. The sense of immediacy it creates. It cultivates impatience and unnecessary worry. Yet it connects us in ways we never imagined it would.

Facebook is here to stay. Fascinating or repulsive, we’re left to use or abuse its abilities. I only hope we become bored with the mundane updates and more sensitive about what we post on our profiles. After all, our Facebook pages are an extension of who we are and how we want to be perceived.

What does your Facebook page say about you?

!!! At The Movies

When I need to escape where do I go? The theater. The movie theater.

I typically go during matinée pricing (I’m all frugal that way) yet I’ll pay almost $10 for popcorn and coke. A movie experience isn’t a movie experience without my popcorn and coke. I usually go alone. It’s the only way I can guarantee I’ll actually see the movie in the theater before it goes to DVD. I love to sit in the very back row so I can enjoy the audience experience, as well. See them laugh or jump. Or notice the shoulders gently bobbing during a particularly sad scene.

There are certain movies I could see again and again. Movies that bring !!! every single time.

I know every line to every song in this movie. I played Maria in our elementary school production, Liesl in high school and Sister Margaretta in a community production. When I visited Austria in high school my friend and I hunted down places of interest to take pictures. You could say I was a little obsessed.

And even though I know what happens next, Psycho still gives me the creeps.

I could watch them all, but the first one is still my favorite.

From my childhood and now my kids love to watch this one over and over. So many sweet life lessons in this film.

So thought-provoking and so many layers. I’ve seen it a few times and each time I get something new from it.

One of my favorite comedies. So fun. So funny. A classic.

I could go on and on and on. This tiny little sampling doesn’t even scratch the surface. Just some of the few movies that bring me !!!

For more !!! visit Momalom or Bad Mommy Moments.

Home. Where Is That Exactly?

I moved to the south 25 years ago. In that time, my blood has thinned, I say “y’all” easily, and sweet tea is my medicine. I crave the heat and humidity. When it starts getting cold (below 70 degrees) I want to hibernate. I discovered a love for the blues, salt water air, shrimp and grits. The slower pace doesn’t bother me in the slightest. 

My husband, who has lived here about 13 years, still thinks of the northeast as “home.” When he criticizes the south, when he gets hung up on stereotypes and generalities, I get defensive. When “The Book” (Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil) was released, I became fiercely protective of my beloved Savannah. Facebook has reconnected me with former high school  classmates who now live all over. When they find out I’m living in the South they’ll occasionally make  a crack about us crackers.

I am not amused.

When life throws lemons your way, most of us want to run home. But where is that exactly?

As many of you know, the place where I was born doesn’t create an image of comfort for me. I have fond memories of my childhood home, sure. But it isn’t the place I run to. And because I don’t have parental figures who offer a soft place to land, I have no one to run to, either.

It’s been a sad, sad past few days. My sister’s husband suffered much through the course of his illness. His death was scary, uncomfortable and violent. He was very aware in his last moments and my sister witnessed his tragic end. She is “home” and I am here. I can’t hug her. I can only talk to her over the phone. And while I want to be there for her, I dread going back there.

There is not where I find comfort.

I find comfort here, in Georgia, with our crazy sayings, odd fashion sense, yummy collards and cornbread. I much prefer the sweet southern comments by strangers, that a Yankee might perceive as less than genuine. But I don’t care. There is a friendliness here that I don’t find many other places. Fake or not, this little glass-half-full-gal prefers the smiles, friendly questions and terms of endearment at the grocery store.

Where is home?

Home is where your heart is.

As trite as that sounds, I am home.

My heart is here. With my amazing, loving husband – who sometimes makes me want to tear my hair out. My beautiful three children – who give me a taste of crazy every single day. In a great dream house. In a neighborhood with neighbors who are nice and neighbors who are not so nice. My heart embraces the steamy, hot summers and the snail’s pace. I am fascinated by the number of southern dialects and quaint phrases.

I will visit “home” in a few weeks for my brother-in-law’s memorial service. But where am I complete? Where do I feel most comfortable and wanted? Where is the familiar and the deep-rooted sentiment and love?

Here.

(Thank you, dear sweet readers, for your words of comfort and peace and understanding. Your thoughts mean more to me than you will ever know.)