Read about a hands-on civics lesson... AND VOTE!

NYTIMES: CITYWIDE; Raising Young Voices for Illegal Mexican Immigrants
By DAVID GONZALEZ

Who knew a civics lesson awaited every time Daisy and Moises Mendoza looked around their neighborhood in East Harlem? Their parents came to New York from Mexico and raised them the hard way, earning pennies at a time handing out fliers on street corners and selling shaved ice snacks in parks. Other teenagers gave up on school to deliver food or bake pizzas. Their neighbors often slipped into the dreary low-profile routine of the illegal immigrant, sweating in gardens or construction sites and not complaining.

''Supposedly, they can't be heard,'' Daisy said.

That is where the civics lesson kicked in. Lucky enough to be born in New York, Daisy and Moises are citizens, for whom voting and civic participation are a birthright and duty. They grew up as pint-size bilingual guides helping their parents understand what was happening at school meetings and visits to the doctor's office. They are active in a youth group at Esperanza del Barrio, a local advocacy group that started out helping street vendors. And while they have to wait to cast their first ballots -- Daisy is 17 and Moises 15 -- they already feel a special responsibility to help their neighbors.

''We have more rights and they don't,'' Daisy said. ''We're legal and they're not.''
Her brother, a spiky-haired laid-back sort, finished her thought.

''They need somebody to have a voice for them,'' Moises said. ''That's our job to do.''
With Washington having failed to pass an immigration overhaul, advocates are increasingly turning to immigrants' children as allies in their political efforts. Many young people raised in this country know their way around a system that sometimes baffles their parents. Those who are citizens can speak out for those who have yet to get their papers. And they can vote.
Robert C. Smith, a professor of public affairs at Baruch College who has extensively studied New York's Mexican population, estimated that the city's half-million Mexicans could have as many as 150,000 children born in the United States. Another big chunk of children came to New York in the early 1990s, when they were reunited with parents who benefited from a 1986 amnesty law that made them legal residents, allowed them to bring their children here and put them on the path to citizenship. And many more are on the way right here, thanks to a rising birthrate.
''We're beginning to see people coming of voting age,'' Dr. Smith said. ''Already Mexicans have surpassed Dominicans in terms of birth. For the next 20 years, Mexicans have the tremendous potential to become a political force.''

The image of the Mexican community for years was one of an illegal and politically apathetic group. But in recent years there have been signs that the younger generation is willing to speak out, starting with issues that most directly affect it, especially education.

In 2002, immigrants successfully pushed for the City University system to preserve in-state tuition rates for students here illegally. Currently, they are seeking to keep alive the Dream Act, federal legislation that proposes to offer tuition help and a path to citizenship to immigrant high school graduates.

Marisol Ramos was born in New York 23 years ago to parents who were here illegally at the time. Her mother worked as a seamstress, but lost her job after production shifted to Mexico. Her father has worked for 30 years as a cook at a restaurant on City Island. They benefited from the 1986 amnesty. When they finally became citizens a few years ago, Ms. Ramos tutored them in American history.

''I was the first in my family to go to college,'' she said. ''I became politically aware and I tried to pass it along to my family members.''

She is now trying to help other immigrant children go to college, working with a coalition that is seeking passage of the Dream Act. Next month, she said, the group plans to start a voter registration drive focusing on the children of immigrants. It is a first step toward nudging them into civic engagement, she said, rather than being complacent as citizens.

''There is ambivalence,'' said Ms. Ramos, who is applying to law school. ''So many second-generation youth can be allies to the undocumented but are not. And they are not voting, so their voice is nonexistent, when it should be there.''

Advocates at groups working with the city's Mexican immigrants said politicians had become more responsive to their concerns. Some said they were ignored or even rebuffed in earlier attempts to meet with officeholders.

''The undocumented are phantoms who are not here legally, so they do not exist,'' said Dr. Gabriel Rincón, a dentist in Sunset Park, Brooklyn, and founder of the advocacy group Mixteca Organization. ''Politicians did not see any benefit because these people do not vote. So we need to get people registered or else the politicians will never listen.''

Joel Magallan spent much of last year reminding local politicians that the children of the immigrants who come to him for help are all potential voters. Mr. Magallan is the executive director of Asociación Tepeyac de New York, an education and advocacy group he founded 10 years ago. When he started the group, his focus was on religious and cultural events that eased the isolation of recent immigrants. After the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks, he scrambled to help the hundreds of laborers affected by the disaster. Now, without an immigration overhaul, he has redoubled his efforts among the young.

''I had been thinking about this for a long time,'' he said. ''We were just waiting for the time when their children could be able to vote. And we have a lot of children.''

He admitted there are challenges. Many young adults are focused on work, rather than community. And others come from homes where parents made them suspicious of politicians, thanks to the corruption that marked Mexican politics. Mr. Magallan focused his efforts on the children of his group's earliest members, figuring they knew the issues and were willing to help. He hopes they will reach out to friends and encourage them to register to vote.

''The fight for immigration reform in 2009 starts now,'' Mr. Magallan said. ''We have to register all the children of immigrants who are 17 now so they can vote in the next election. These are the people who can then lobby our legislators in 2009.''

Estrellita Montiel's uncle was among the founders of Tepeyac, so volunteering there was a family tradition. Her parents, who worked cleaning hotels and offices, came to New York illegally three decades ago and took advantage of the 1986 amnesty. She was born here 22 years ago and now attends St. John's University. This summer she has been working with several dozen schoolchildren at the group's day camp in Queens.

''Their parents don't know the language, so by working here we're helping those who came here like my parents,'' she said Wednesday as she took the group out to a playground.
Just as important to her is finding her own political voice to help young adults -- including some of her friends -- who are about to get college degrees, even though they have yet to become legal residents.

''They'll have a diploma, but they won't be able to work,'' she said. ''They came here with their parents, but they have been here so long, what are they going to do? They can't go back to Mexico.''

Juan Carlos Aguirre, 27, has also been involved with Tepeyac since he was a teenager. He spent much of his early life raised by relatives in Mexico and joined his mother in New York 17 years ago. After a stint in the United States Navy, he became a citizen in 2004. Now he works at Tepeyac's English program and is studying communications at St. John's University.

Mr. Aguirre feels he ''belongs to this country'' and says he may one day get involved in politics. He is worried about teenagers like his brother, who dropped out of school to go to work and help pay the rent.

''A lot of them have not been as lucky as I was,'' he said. ''Those of us who can do something, especially for the undocumented, we should do it. ''

finding the antidote

I had to dig into my email to find this gem; it was worth it.

When we catch ourselves thinking or behaving judgmentally, we should ask ourselves where these judgments come from. Traits we hope we do not possess can instigate our criticism when we see them in others because passing judgment distances us from those traits. Once we regain our center, we can reinforce our open-mindedness by putting our feelings into words. To acknowledge to ourselves that we have judged, and that we have identified the root of our judgments, is the first step to a path of compassion. Recognizing that we limit our awareness by assessing others critically can make moving past our initial impressions much easier. Judgments seldom leave room for alternate possibilities.

Mother Teresa said, “If you judge people, you don’t have time to love them.” If we are quick to pass judgment on others, we forget that they, like us, are human beings. As we seldom know what roads people have traveled before a shared encounter or why they have come into our lives, we should always give those we meet the gift of an open heart. Doing so allows us to replace fear-based criticism with appreciation because we can then focus wholeheartedly on the spark of good that burns in all human souls.

For the past few days, I have been fighting through this... trying to figure out what I could do, needed to do and want to do in order to fight this feeling. Need to ground, find the center, acknowledge, and remember that compassion is my most fervent goal.

A friend asked me yesterday, as we talked about my inability to commit to ONE job, "What do you want to do?"

I don't know. I told her. I don't have any shame in admitting that. Maybe I should, but I don't.

But, I do know what I want to be, more than anything: compassionate.
I also know what I do not want to be: selfish.

So, I can be compassionate with myself on not being able to make good progress on finding the "right" job; however, I do need to be more consistent and persistent on being compassionate with the world, and especially with those around me.

Just a thought.

snippy

I hate the tight feeling... it's tight in my chest and I feel closed in a little box, barely able to move my head around... and it comes out as snippy.

You may encounter this feeling sometimes.

It takes a little while for me to notice that I am snapping (in my mind if not aloud each time) at every little irritant...and EVERYTHING is irritating.

When I realize it, then I know the real unease will begin.

Now I have to dig and find what is really irritating me and deal with that so that I can STOP being SNIPPY to the world.

YUCK.

The unsuspecting starlets

I have been following the progress of these two whales, like so many others. I never got in the car to see them in person... it's more fun to read the accounts, watch the people on tv looking for the whales, and to imagine what might be going on in their brains.

like snowflakes

each blog entry is unique...
some are rants
some are only masquerading as rants
some look deep inside
some just observe what goes on around me

the best thing about blogging is I don't have to worry about anything...read or don't read. I get to express my opinion, muse out loud, bitch about the thorn in my side or wonder at the world.

The Curious Turtle

Nearly six years ago, I was kayaking on the Rancocas River; it was a "family" outing -- "" because it was when I was still married and "family" kayaking meant me, him and my mother-in-law. In this case, it also meant the sister-in-law and her girls.

It's probably an exaggeration, but I never felt more alone in New Jersey than when I was with his family. Not that I didn't like, enjoy or get along with them. The connections between them let alone between them and me were as delicate as spider's webs. Obviously intricate and sturdy when used in a conventional way, say trapping flies. Unavoidably fragile when intruded upon by the unexpected other, say a culturally different (maybe opposite) not conventionally pretty or demurely behaved daughter-in-law clumsily tramping through a web.

So in our flotilla we started down the river. Late spring or early summer, maybe Memorial Day weekend, I can't remember. The trees were thick around us, but there was plenty of sun. As I glanced around me, I saw little tiny turtles sunning themselves. So tiny their sunning spots were lily pads.

Can I keep one if I catch one?

I had wanted a turtle for a very long time, maybe as far back as Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing, but not the kind you buy in a pet store. That clearly would be cheating. My mom and dad found one on the bank of the canal during a walk on one of their visits to New Jersey. They brought it home to me, but it wasn't the kind of thing you would keep as a pet. Prehistoric-looking and not at all interested in beings other than itself.

Why I felt the need to ask permission is another story altogether. Though his disbelieving answer that I could certainly keep it, if I could catch it is important as just the tone of voice provided motivation.

My first attempts appeared fruitless but, in fact, they provided important data that could help in my capture of a small, unsuspecting baby turtle.

Keep in mind two things:

1) these turtles were the size of quarters;

2) I had to use the oar to catch one or risk tipping right out of the kayak.

I tried to be faster than the turtles, dipping my oar into the lily pads to score the prize. Before I could get to them, they dove. And then they were gone. I had to continue on to the next patch of sunning baby turtles.

Eventually, I realized they were alerted by the shadow of the oar. Pondering how to make a shadow disappear, I noticed one of the baby turtles had returned. She was peeking at me from beneath the lily pad. Surely she believed herself hidden. Not sure why her curiosity was piqued, but you know what they say about the cat and his curiosity, it occurred to me that I could use it to my advantage.

I positioned my oar beneath her and as she tried to figure me out, I carefully lifted her into my kayak.

She proceeded to walk the length of the kayak, investigating, as she is wont to do even now. In the time it took to get back to where we had put in, I constructed a story (plausible enough, I think) about her likelihood to survive in the wild given her intense and seemingly insatiable curiosity.

She was hawk snack for sure.

I saved her life.

Or so I like to think. Not sure what she would say if she could tell the story from her perspective. It's probably a good thing she can't talk.

Life sentence?

I am just wondering...at what point in my life will I stop being punished for having married the wrong person?I am just saying...

So, I am just wondering if I will reach a point where I will not be punished for having married the wrong man?

I don't mean to sound melodramatic. Honestly, despite what it may seem.

I did not expect that it to all go away with the magic wand of divorce.

I thought that getting a divorce would rectify the situation.

I didn't expect that it would all go away. I mean that I didn't get an annullment, I got a divorce.

So, I understood that there would be resentment, emotional issues to unravel and a life to set right. I imagined (and have lived through) the residual shame, anger, pain, resentment. I knew that it would take some time. Emotionally, it is not truly over.

What I did not expect is that every few years I would have a legal document land on my doorstep DEMANDING that I pay for my EX-husband's lack of financial stability or his lack of ability to manage his finances.

WTF?

At what point, exactly, in my life will I STOP paying for the mistake I made in marrying him? When, if ever, will I be absolved of making the mistake of marrying him?

Is this a lifetime sentence?

Reggie or Why I LOVE Southern California

You can say what you like about Los Angeles and Southern California; I know you will anyway...but I love it.

The way folks feel about Reggie and what he INSPIRES is just one of the many reasons that I still LOVE L. A.

Check this out:

When the animal was first spotted in the murky lake in August 2005, it became a sensation as crowds gathered to catch a glimpse. Locals named it Reggie, though it's not clear whether the reptile is male or female.

Gloria and Danny Gutierrez said they would go to the lake several times a week and watch for Reggie. Gloria Gutierrez wore a white T-shirt decorated with the words "Welcome back, Reggie."

"We'd bring our chairs out here and a bag of fruit, and we'd talk with people we didn't even know," Danny Gutierrez said.

The gator inspired a zydeco song, two children's books and innumerable T-shirts. Students at Los Angeles Harbor College next to the lake adopted Reggie as a second mascot.

[I added the emphasis because I enjoy being emphatic and/or irate under the right circumstances.]

just wondering...

Open letter to my former colleagues:



I was just wondering now that you are sitting with so many desks at the office empty, again, do you worry, now, about that terse exchange?



Do you think, maybe I shouldn't have been so unhelpful? Maybe I shouldn't have made them all jumps through so many hoops just to get what they needed to do their work?



Do you wonder if all of those smoking breaks that were really insider-only meetings were a detriment to fostering a welcoming environment?



I really hope you do. Not only because I am vindictive and revel in watching the turn over as a result of your poor management. Also because if there were a chance that you, any of you, could be introspective on this issue, there is hope.



I am hopeful for the sake of your organization which COULD have done so much MORE than yell and scream about injustice.

Sangrona

We have a word for the sullen, visibly angry or brusque woman. [From the Real Academia, in case you don't believe me... and for those who land on this page looking for a definition.]

We call her sangrona (him, sangron).

It's more than aloof or unfriendly because it is that noticeably hostile undertone that you see and feel in the look, the attitude, the way she breathes in, disgruntled, no matter what you do or say.

She lets you know without ever addressing a word to you.

Don't try to break through.

There is no room for discussion, explanation, reconsideration or reprieve.

Don't bother to try to be her friend.

You will strive to be brought down every time.

She wants you to know that there is something truly distasteful in your simply being. And you should know how unacceptable you are.

I keep thinking some day she will see.

But she won't, and it really isn't about me or you or anyone else but her.

I am still wondering why, knowing as I do that there is not discernible rhyme or reason, I still care.

So why can't you just let it go?

Where is my compassion for her?

Best meal for $3.75

Spinach, pasta and feta sandwich
boneless chicken (as Nick call is) = hard boiled egg

Especially satisfying if you have just walked the lake and skipped breakfast.

It's important to celebrate the little things that make you smile, even if it only lasts for a minute.

It's much better than spending your lunch hour walking around the lake complaining about your co-worker.

In case you were wondering.

what if and if only

There are no more poisonous words.

If only...
Is full of regret. It is the small child within the grown person wondering if he could have made his father love him by being somehow different. It is the wife turning herself inside out, trying to be who her husband says he wants.

IF ONLY exploits your deepest insecurity in the guise of goading you into striving to be better, more, deserving, you name it. Any of those characteristics that the demons whisper you lack and could never achieve.

What if...
While not outwardly as dangerous or painful as IF ONLY, just as destructive. What if leads you down the painful path of regret just as surely as IF ONLY ever will. What if I hadn't said that, done that, felt that? What if things had been different? What if I had planned better, executed more skillfully, understood more plainly? What if aliens abducted me and implanted something in me that has caused me to make all these missteps, mistakes, etc.?

Oh yes, WHAT IF, inevitably it leads you to the ALIENS and the sorrowful realization that the WHAT IF road cannot offer any solace, answers or peace.

Keeping these lessons present are difficult but worthwhile.

Indeed

"People don't come here for benefits," Russo said. "If they wanted benefits, they would go to Canada where they have a real health care system. They come here to work."

A War by Any Other Name Would Be as Horrific

Sitting in Barbara Lee's Town Hall Meeting in the Grand Lake Theater, next to me is an older gentleman. He did not know who Sean Penn was. But later on he shared with me that another speaker, Daniel Ellsberg, was someone he had shared a cell with for seven days, twenty years ago, protesting other political injustices.

All of us were showing our ages.

As I walked in, I wondered: where are the youth? They are the ones most affected by this awful situation (I feel it is unjust to call it a war...the "war" ended years ago, this is just an awful situation that has trapped our soldiers and all the iraqi civilians in an unending nightmare loop of killing and maiming and destruction.)

There were the youth working as volunteers in the lobby, clearly high school students. Where were the college students? So many grey heads have been fighting against this malicious, illegal occupation. They understand the history we are creating. We, we must take responsibility. We cannot blame a corrupt administration. We are the people of WE THE PEOPLE; we are responsible.

Then a young woman takes the stage. Ms. Martinez, from the Martin Luther King Freedom Center in Oakland, brought the house down, in my humble opinion. Mr. and Mrs. Martinez should be proud of their daughter and her ability to clearly breakdown what war and war mongering has wrought in all of our lives and the world it has created for our youth.

The price we pay for this action/inaction, for this war, for this "peace by any price," cannot be measured in gallons or barrels of oil.

It is the emotional toll we will spend a lifetime trying to heal.

When we say it's like Vietnam, that is what we mean.

Knight of the Living Dead

I am not taking any chances that you won't be able to read this from a link. Here is the entire text of Mr. Zizek's guest column regarding the reality we create by allowing torture for whatever reason we think is acceptable.

I wish I had the text of Ms. Martinez's eloquent speech at Barbara Lee's town hall meeting yesterday. She would definitely agree with Mr. Zizek's conclusions.

Knight of the Living Dead
By SLAVOJ ZIZEK, Op-Ed
Contributor, London
Published: March 24, 2007

SINCE the release of Khalid Shaikh Mohammed’s dramatic confessions, moral outrage at the extent of his crimes has been mixed with doubts. Can his claims be trusted? What if he confessed to more than he really did, either because of a vain desire to be remembered as the big terrorist mastermind, or because he was ready to confess anything in order to stop the water boarding and other “enhanced interrogation techniques”?

If there was one surprising aspect to this situation it has less to do with the confessions themselves than with the fact that for the first time in a great many years, torture was normalized — presented as something acceptable. The ethical consequences of it should worry us all.

While the scope of Mr. Mohammed’s crimes is clear and horrifying, it is worth noting that the United States seems incapable of treating him even as it would the hardest criminal — in the civilized Western world, even the most depraved child murderer gets judged and punished. But any legal trial and punishment of Mr. Mohammed is now impossible — no court that operates within the frames of Western legal systems can deal with illegal detentions, confessions obtained by torture and the like. (And this conforms, perversely, to Mr. Mohammed’s desire to be treated as an enemy rather than a criminal.)

It is as if not only the terrorists themselves, but also the fight against them, now has to proceed in a gray zone of legality. We thus have de facto “legal” and “illegal” criminals: those who are to be treated with legal procedures (using lawyers and the like), and those who are outside legality, subject to military tribunals or seemingly endless incarceration.

Mr. Mohammed has become what the Italian political philosopher Giorgio Agamben calls “homo sacer”: a creature legally dead while biologically still alive. And he’s not the only one living in an in-between world. The American authorities who deal with detainees have become a sort of counterpart to homo sacer: acting as a legal power, they operate in an empty space that is sustained by the law and yet not regulated by the rule of law.

Some don’t find this troubling. The realistic counterargument goes: The war on terrorism is dirty, one is put in situations where the lives of thousands may depend on information we can get from our prisoners, and one must take extreme steps. As Alan Dershowitz of Harvard Law School puts it: “I’m not in favor of torture, but if you’re going to have it, it should damn well have court approval.” Well, if this is “honesty,” I think I’ll stick with hypocrisy.

Yes, most of us can imagine a singular situation in which we might resort to torture — to save a loved one from immediate, unspeakable harm perhaps. I can. In such a case, however, it is crucial that I do not elevate this desperate choice into a universal principle. In the unavoidable brutal urgency of the moment, I should simply do it. But it cannot become an acceptable standard; I must retain the proper sense of the horror of what I did. And when torture becomes just another in the list of counterterrorism techniques, all sense of horror is lost.

When, in the fifth season of the TV show “24,” it became clear that the mastermind behind the terrorist plot was none other than the president himself, many of us were eagerly waiting to see whether Jack Bauer would apply to the “leader of the free world” his standard technique in dealing with terrorists who do not want to divulge a secret that may save thousands. Will he torture the president?

Reality has now surpassed TV. What “24” still had the decency to present as Jack Bauer’s disturbing and desperate choice is now rendered business as usual.

In a way, those who refuse to advocate torture outright but still accept it as a legitimate topic of debate are more dangerous than those who explicitly endorse it. Morality is never just a matter of individual conscience. It thrives only if it is sustained by what Hegel called “objective spirit,” the set of unwritten rules that form the background of every individual’s activity, telling us what is acceptable and what is unacceptable.

For example, a clear sign of progress in Western society is that one does not need to argue against rape: it is “dogmatically” clear to everyone that rape is wrong. If someone were to advocate the legitimacy of rape, he would appear so ridiculous as to disqualify himself from any further consideration. And the same should hold for torture.

Are we aware what lies at the end of the road opened up by the normalization of torture? A significant detail of Mr. Mohammed’s confession gives a hint. It was reported that the interrogators submitted to waterboarding and were able to endure it for less than 15 seconds on average before being ready to confess anything and everything. Mr. Mohammed, however, gained their grudging admiration by enduring it for two and a half minutes.

Are we aware that the last time such things were part of public discourse was back in the late Middle Ages, when torture was still a public spectacle, an honorable way to test a captured enemy who might gain the admiration of the crowd if he bore the pain with dignity? Do we really want to return to this kind of primitive warrior ethics?

This is why, in the end, the greatest victims of torture-as-usual are the rest of us, the informed public. A precious part of our collective identity has been irretrievably lost. We are in the middle of a process of moral corruption: those in power are literally trying to break a part of our ethical backbone, to dampen and undo what is arguably our civilization’s greatest achievement, the growth of our spontaneous moral sensitivity.

Slavoj Zizek, the international director of the Birkbeck Institute for the Humanities, is the author, most recently, of “The Parallax View.”

It takes all kinds...

Read the story very carefully.

For all of us who think we know how to take care of ourselves ...
and that most people are generally good, this is a cautionary tale.

It's disheartening to imagine a world in which we have to spend all of our time monitoring those around us for bad behavior and/or being convinced that the world is full of basically bad (rather than generally good) people. But, that might just be the world we live in.

Thank goodness that there are people like these two bartenders who are willing to act when they see something wrong going on.

This is a lesson for all of us, I am sure of that, I am just not sure what the lesson is.

White Lies?

I seem to recall a few years back when Republicans were asserting that it was of UTMOST importance to pursue a perjury case against Bill Clinton, or, at the very least, impeach him otherwise we Americans would never be able to teach our children the importance of telling the truth.

Hmm...

So, when the Vice President continues to assert that we are waging a war in Iraq as a way of avenging those who died in the Trade Center, he isn't damaging our image of the truth? He is in no way making it more difficult for parents around the country to hold their children to that high standard of truth telling?

Oh, and, if you happen to work for the Vice President, say, it would be a travesty of justice for anyone to hold you responsible for breaking that all important rule of not telling a lie?

I can see how if it's the President lying that is really WRONG, but if it's the Vice President, well, he is just doing what's best for the country.

He sold those stocks in Halliburton, right?

Just saying...

Rethink "GUEST WORKER"

I have long been against any kind of GUEST WORKER program. This is not because I don't believe that folks should be allowed to enter our country to work as guests; but rather because we have a shameful history of dealing with these guests.

Others may have a short memory or even just believe some revised history, but I remember quite clearly how the brazeros were treated both while they were working and after they went back to Mexico. There is no reason to believe that we are more enlightened now. In an era of union busting in our own country, just how do you think we are planning to treat non-citizens in the guest-workplace?

Bob Herbert's column today lets us in on the latest from the Southern Poverty Law Center: “Close to Slavery: Guestworker Programs in the United States.” I am glad to see that there are others in the country with some integrity when it comes to this issue. Take the time to read at least the press release or summary if you can't get through the 48 pages.

the wearing of the black

Funeral duty...
As a teenager I was devoted to the idea of suffering and delighted in reading dark literature: anything fraught with angst. I wasn't exactly goth, not sure any of us knew what that was, but death lived in my mind as a romantic ideal. I found a ring in my mother's jewelry box that looked like a coffin. I found out that it had been her high school ring, and immediately felt it expressed my high school experience perfectly and didn't take it off for several years!

At that time, I fantasized about my twilight years, when I would don a black hat, with a veil, of course, and attend funerals. I envisioned myself picking out funerals of people who seemed to have died with few friends and/or relations. I would be the intriguing yet familiar figure in black who grieved the lonely.

Reading obituaries is something of a refined habit of many of my family members. So it was not my twisted teenage sense of the world that led me to read them daily. Over the years, learning to read between the lines of the sometimes sparse death notices, I found I could discern much about the life of the departed. At least, I could make up any circumstance I desired and put to use my creative imagination.

I am not sure if it is a natural part of the aging process, but I don't derive the same pleasure I used to from reading angst-riddled literature, though I do still find myself more often than not watching dark movies. And, unfortunately, I don't enjoy attending funerals nearly as much as I imagined I would when I was a teenager.

In the past few years it has fallen to me to represent my family at funerals for people who might as well be strangers. Usually I am tangentially related to these folks, but I have been to several funerals where I had never met the dearly departed while he/she was still alive. Perhaps more unsettling, I was meeting the rest of this person's family at the funeral. I don't have a fabulous hat with a veil though I do own a fair amount of black.

Last week turned into another funeral week for me, so I dutifully found suitable black clothing and tried to steel myself for the experience.

The first one laid me low and it took several days to recover... I don't have time to discuss it here now, but perhaps, one day, I will have the emotional energy to capture the experience in words.

For now, let me say that I am looking forward to coming up with more cheerful ways to celebrate my retirement, someday, if I ever do get to retire!

the girls

Gilmore girls, that is. This is a malenting rant, so take it for what it is worth.

I have been guilty of persuading quite a few friends into watching GG. It used to be my favorite, must-see show. You know the kind, watch it live while taping it and then watch it a couple more times before next week's show. Ok, you may not be of the obsessive type that does this, but you get the gist.

One friend who I got hooked on GG said the other day, a Tuesday: "we get all excited for the next show, just to watch it and realize that it SUCKS again."

Maybe I am losing perspective or my standards, but I loved Lorelai this week... this is the kind of maturing I like to see in her...getting Mrs. Kim not to make mistakes Lorelai made in the past, much better than watching her fold up over whether or not she'll be alone or partnered.

Though, this morning on the bus I was thinking about how many of my women friends who are 35+ are musing about just that thing. I am busy still reveling in the notion that I don't have to live with that anymore or forever (that being my exhusband).

Alas...slightly off the subject, but back toGG -- I also had a small ever so slight flicker of hope that the gang-busting ever independent pishawing, needy goofy girl, Rory Gilmore, might be making a comeback...but then she just said, ok, to the latest jerk boyfriend.

No pluck left in her it would seem...what a shame because I really started watching the show because of the strength that she and her mother exhibited...very take no prisoners...

This little rant was prompted by this email from another GG fan who is weekly disappointed and frequently disgusted with the plotlines for the past two or three seasons:

EW cracked on Gilmore Girls. On the weekly TV-to-watch round up, they started describing the plot, per usual, the cut it off and said "What's the point? you're only watching out of habit anyway." Heeheehee