tripping over the obvious?

Found this headline amusing:
Worries That the Good Times Were Mostly a Mirage

I couldn't even get through the article; I wish you better luck.

The first line: So, how bad could this get?

Let's see, house prices (like stock prices) have been completely out of whack with reality for how long?? Umm...at the same time that the dollar is falling and the price of oil is at never before seen prices. Oh, and yet the gasoline prices in heavily Republican towns is still laughably low.

I could go on... there are the less obvious but no less troubling, such as the widening gap between the rich and the poor, the squeezing out of the middle class of important yet essential things such as higher education and home ownership.

Well... I guess if you base your economic knowledge on the State of the Union speeches given by the president or on the basis of how much you can charge on your credit card, then everything is just fine, and you can ignore all the latest news, too.

wow...

For the past few days, I have been walking around inside of a black cloud.

In fact, I took the entire (almost all of it, that is) three day weekend to wallow because sometimes you have to actually stew in the disappointments, pain and sadness in order to be able to move through it.

This morning, I finally got to listen to some stories from the weekend that I hadn't gotten to...
here's the one that brought tears to my eyes. Instead of shying away from the emotion, I listened to it three times. Yes, three times. The third time, I actually read along as I listened. Beautiful, truly beautiful.

I was saying to a friend last night, when I emerged from my wallowing long enough to talk to other people about it, that I wasn't going to feel bad about the wallowing. It is not usually something that I like to talk about proudly, but in this case I really needed the simmering time.

In the middle of it, I got to the bottom of the bad feelings. I worked through the anger and the blame and the judgement, so that I could live with the situation.

There are things that I have to do (and I have made at least the first little baby steps) and especially that I don't want to do.

But, yesterday, even though it was cloudy and rainy and the sky was perpetually threatening to take over, for the first time in several weeks, I felt hopeful, lighter and closer to who I want to be.

For months (really, honestly) I have been practicing actively looking for the silver lining. So, Annaliese Jakimides' essay on what she believes and what she has learned from her son's suicide really put this all into perspective.

Thank you, Ms. Jakimides, for being willing to share the darkness and the light.

Fair and Balanced ?

So, even though both Mexico and Canada border the United States, and both refuse to extradite suspects until the US agrees to not have the death penalty on the table, this article's title proclaims its intention to only make Mexico looks lawless.

Exhibit 1: Title ... Fleeing to Mexico Thwarts Death Penalty

Ms. Roberts, do you know the meaning of fair and balanced? Or is this another thing we can blame on media consolidation?

I recall a young British man who had been on death row released from jail recently... the first thing he did was jump on a plane back to Britain. What do you think the British would have done with this guy had he managed to flee to Britain before he was convicted??

Exhibits 3-8: Excerpts that clearly show that the slant on this article was all too obvious:

Mexico refuses to send anyone back to the United States unless the U.S. gives assurances it won't seek the death penalty - a 30-year-old policy that rankles some American prosecutors and enrages victims' families.

Word choice here seems to point to Mexico as the small child refusing to do what its parent directs and wants.

"We find it extremely disturbing that the Mexican government would dictate to us, in Arizona, how we would enforce our laws at the same time they are complaining about our immigration laws," said Barnett Lotstein, special assistant to the prosecutor in Maricopa County, Ariz., which includes Phoenix.

Apparently Arizona and Maricopa County have more sovereignty than a COUNTRY.

Mexico routinely returns fugitives to the U.S. to face justice. But under a 1978 treaty with the U.S., Mexico, which has no death penalty, will not extradite anyone facing possible execution. To get their hands on a fugitive, U.S. prosecutors must agree to seek no more than life in prison. Other countries, including France and Canada, also demand such "death assurances." But the problem is more common with Mexico, since it is often a quick drive from the crime scene for a large portion of the United States.

I want you to read the article because I want you to see how long it takes this reporter to get around to letting us know that the run to the border to avoid the death penalty could actually go either way, though, she is choosing to report on only ONE direction. She will demonstrate that she cannot prove the statement in red above in a quote below where she notes that she was unable to get stats for France and Canada.

"If you can get to Mexico - if you have the means - it's a way of escaping the death penalty," said Issac Unah, a University of North Carolina political science professor.

I hope Professor Unah is the reigning expert on this subject, though, just knowing that he is from University of North Carolina must make it so. Real JOURNALISM usually requires that you get differing views that would imply at the very least interviewing more than one "EXPERT."

The Justice Department said death assurances from foreign countries are fairly common, but it had no immediate numbers. State Department officials said Mexico extradited 73 suspects to the U.S. in 2007. Most were wanted on drug or murder charges.

Yeah...so it turns out that we can know how many suspects have been extradited to the US from Mexico; we can't know how many "death assurances" were issued; and, we have NO IDEA how many suspects are sought in Canada, how many suspects were extradited or how many "death assurances" might have been issued. I can clearly see how that would qualify one to say that the problem is more common in Mexico.

Please, where is the editor at AP? Could it be that we just dislike Mexico more right now and thanks to the bigoted (and/or just plain rabble rousing -- because I know some of you don't really care but it's been a great bandwagon for you) radio and TV commentators have made us feel entitled to heap criticism on Mexico?

My Pride and Joy

Family Builders has a great new ad campaign to find foster parents (and potentially adoptive families) for LGBTQ kids in foster care. Here's a great article on the program and the ad campaign.

hacer el bien sin ver a quien

Don't know how I missed this one... thanks to Luis for posting it on Latinosineducation (yahoogroup).

Looks like Mr. Tapia has gotten a website, so you can see what's going on more easily.

Here's my favorite part of this story:

Tapia is particularly moved by the outpouring of support from children, like the 5- and 7-year-old siblings in Colorado who opened their piggy banks and recently sent a check for $60. Or the 6-year-old who sent a check along with a drawing of Tapia next to a big yellow heart, under which she wrote, "This is like you are putting people into your heart."
"I will take that to my grave when I die," he said, choking up again.
"The gestures of these children are going to tear out my heart. They have such goodwill, and they have parents who are teaching them hacer el bien sin ver a quien," said Tapia, quoting an old saying of his native Mexico, which translates roughly, but not as poetically, as "do good, even if you can't see who will benefit."

Happy Birthday, Dr. King

Lifted directly from a friend's email. I couldn't agree with Pamela more. I wish we celebrated Dr. King's birthday by reading aloud from his fabulous writing, but especially from this (A Letter from a Birmingham Jail and from Why We Can't Wait:

An excerpt from Martin Luther King's most compelling document not frequently quoted:

...."We have waited .for more than 340 years for our constitutional and God- given rights. The nations of Asia and Africa are moving with jetlike speed toward gaining political independence, but we stiff creep at horse-and-buggy pace toward gaining a cup of coffee at a lunch counter. Perhaps it is easy for those who have never felt the stinging dark of segregation to say, "Wait." But when you have seen vicious mobs lynch your mothers and fathers at will and drown your sisters and brothers at whim; when you have seen hate-filled policemen curse, kick and even kill your black brothers and sisters; when you see the vast majority of your twenty million Negro brothers smothering in an airtight cage of poverty in the midst of an affluent society; when you suddenly find your tongue twisted and your speech stammering as you seek to explain to your six- year-old daughter why she can't go to the public amusement park that has just been advertised on television, and see tears welling up in her eyes when she is told that Funtown is closed to colored children, and see ominous clouds of inferiority beginning to form in her little mental sky, and see her beginning to distort her personality by developing an unconscious bitterness toward white people; when you have to concoct an answer for a five-year-old son who is asking: "Daddy, why do white people treat colored people so mean?"; when you take a cross-county drive and find it necessary to sleep night after night in the uncomfortable corners of your automobile because no motel will accept you; when you are humiliated day in and day out by nagging signs reading "white" and "colored"; when your first name becomes "nigger," your middle name becomes "boy" (however old you are) and your last name becomes "John," and your wife and mother are never given the respected title "Mrs."; when you are harried by day and haunted by night by the fact that you are a Negro, living constantly at tiptoe stance, never quite knowing what to expect next, and are plagued with inner fears and outer resentments; when you no forever fighting a degenerating sense of "nobodiness" then you will understand why we find it difficult to wait. There comes a time when the cup of endurance runs over, and men are no longer willing to be plunged into the abyss of despair. I hope, sirs, you can understand our legitimate and unavoidable impatience.
....."I must make two honest confessions to you, my Christian and Jewish brothers. First, I must confess that over the past few years I have been gravely disappointed with the white moderate. I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro's great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen's Councilor or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to "order" than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says: "I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I cannot agree with your methods of direct action"; who paternalistically believes he can set the timetable for another man's freedom; who lives by a mythical concept of time and who constantly advises the Negro to wait for a "more convenient season." Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection. "
Read the entire document!

People Irritate Me

Sometimes it just needs to be said.

I don't know if it is a particular person (or if it were that I would say), but people really irritate me. I want to say sometimes to make myself sound less like a crazy self-centered hermit, but at least at this moment, it feels like it's an all the time thing.


I could blame these feelings on any number of physical frailties or just on the moon phases or other obital patterns. Bottom-line, this is what I need to work on.


COMPASSION.


Embracing people where they are, while they are there... not later after processing and being ok with doing the bigger, better thing.


Sadly, it is also the thing I want most from the world.


Like so many many situations in life, that which you either want the most or fear the most is what will trip you up... or just present itself whenever you get comfortable.


I rode the bus with Mabel again this morning as well. Today she was much cheerier than on our first meeting. She tried to chat with one of the Chinese ladies who also had a cart... a little cart lady bonding. I don't know if the other lady didn't understand Mabel or just didn't want to chat; and that made really sad. I felt badly for having bad thoughts about Mabel in the past and got a little more window onto her lonely world.


The fact is that I was at the bus stop with her, waiting in a not very patient way for the bus to appear. I could have talked to her; just made small talk. But instead, I looked away, studied the bus schedule, looked for the bus, checked the time, etc. It was wasted time that at least could have been used to make small talk with a lady who might not get to make small talk all that often.


That less generous side of myself is not my most flattering...


It was an awful rollercoaster kind of a day for me with all this crap...

Mondo Beyondo, part 1

Here's the challenge from Superhero, the life coach to whom I turned when I needed help to get on the road. [Check out Andrea's site, you will love it, I guarantee it.] This is part I, a little deep into January already, but done, nonetheless.

1. What do you want to acknowledge yourself for in regard to 2007?(What did you create? What challenges did you face with courage and strength? What promises did you keep to yourself? What brave choices did you make? What are you proud of?)

In 2007, I committed to making life more important than work and to seeking balance. I have been practicing experiencing life more and planning life less. For the most part, I kept these promises and practices for the year. I am proud of taking care of myself, supporting myself financially as well as emotionally. I made the brave choice of finishing the trail half-marathon, running in the middle of the night in a remote area of Nevada, and joining the gym. There's probably more, but these are the things that pop into my head.

2. What is there to grieve about 2007?(What was disappointing? What was scary? What was hard? What can you forgive yourself for?)

I was disappointed that I could not commit to a job sooner or to an academic program in time to turn in applications in 2007. It was scary to realize that I am ready to start dating but don't know how to do it. I can forgive myself for hiding whenever I felt I needed alone time or processing time. It was hard to face the work and life demons over and over as I allowed them to come forward and say their peace. I hope that it will be easier in the future to ignore their intrusions as I have already heard and dismissed all the things they have to say about me.

3. What else do you need to say about the year to declare it complete? Okay, the next step is to say out loud, "I declare 2007 complete!" How do you feel? If you don't feel quite right, there might be one more thing to say...

2007 was a grand experiment. I challenged myself to focus on me and not work or plans or expectations (real or imagined). I learned that I have more resources for doing this than I thought was possible. I recognized that life is a journey to be travelled, not planned. As an experiment, it did not always turn out well. Some days were harder than others, but ultimately they mostly just were. Life happens changing day to day and I discovered that I continue to be throughout it all. For the first time in my life, when things were not going as I would like, I did not wish to be dead. I held on for the morning light that I knew would come; I never felt like anything would be too much for me. It was a blessing to discover this to be true.

The final step is to consider your primary focus for the year to come. What is your primary intention or theme for 2008? Is it the year of joy? the year of self-care? the year of partnership? Stand up and say it proud, "2008 is my year of...."

2008 is my year of discovery. I want to explore more places: in my mind, in the world, in my heart and soul. I want to bravely face adventures in dating, or even face them timidly. I want to reach deep into the place where I have hidden all my intentions always believing they would never come true and show them the light.

Happy 200th Anniversary America

I am just getting caught up on my reading of NYTimes and listening... vacation turned out to be vacation from news, too...odd for me, but there you have it.

I have been plodding through NYTimes since December 22nd. I am finally up to December 30th today and I come across this little gem of an editorial. It turns out that on January 1, 1808, was the day that the prohibition of importation of slaves went into effect in the United States. The editor muses about why and how this milestone is going largely unnoticed in the US compared to the same marker in the UK last year.

Well, reading this now, I come to understand (and appreciate even more) the series that Michel Martin has been doing on slavery on her fantastic show, Tell Me More. [I will post links to her series below.]

I also understand the debate that has been going on in New Jersey about apologizing for slavery. In the back of my mind I had been thinking, well, it's about time, but it makes all the more sense how those who support it were able to push it through. It also makes those who oppose it all the more callous and ridiculous.
From NYTimes:

Among the dozens of measures that passed on Monday [January 7, 2008], the two chambers overwhelmingly approved bills authorizing a formal state apology for New Jersey’s role in slavery. New Jersey, the last Northern state to abolish slavery, became the first Northern state to apologize for it.

We certainly have heard some about the debate over making the apology. It's definitely odd not to hear more about the anniversary, afterall, this is one anniversary we in which we might take pride. I remember a lot of information on some anniversary of Lewis and Clark, for instance. I am continually dismayed to see us "celebrating" anniversaries of the missionary work of the Spanish in early California. Both of these pioneer events surely caused the decimation of many native tribes as well as bringing white folks to the west. However, we allowed slavery to continue in our country. We allowed each state to decide and fought over it before the abolition came during the civil war. Will we celebrate that anniversary when it hits 200? I doubt it, I find we are still very unresolved on the issue of slavery because so many are so unwilling to take up the issue of responsibility, culpability and apology -- and reparations.

We all know that your ancestors who held slaves are dead. We all also know that the slaves are dead. It is completely logical for the descendants of slave holders to apologize to the descendants of slaves. One cannot extricate innocence from not having been born yet. The descendants of slaveholders clearly benefited and therefore have plenty for which to apologize. The descendants of slaves have clearly been adversely affected therefore ... it's just so easy and logical. Again, I am loathe to even respond to ridiculousness, but it is completely unfair that some people's voices get to be louder than others because they get to be on the radio or the floor of an elected body. So there.

Tell Me More's series:
January 2, 2008 -- "Watermen" Helped Slaves Unlock Door to Freedom
January 4, 2008 -- Quakers Helped Abolish Slavery
January 7, 2008 -- Human Trafficking: Slavery of the Modern Era
January 7, 2008 -- Harriet Jacob's Path to Freedom
January 10, 2008 -- End of Slave Trade Meant New Normal for America

Our In-Justice System

What I really want to know is "Who gets to decide how much a life is worth?"


Whereas I believe that many of our 50 years to life sentences are egregious, what I find even more egregious is when we give different people who commit the SAME crime different sentences.


How was it decided that Mr. Colono's life was only worth two years? Who will give restitution to Mr Colono's child? Mr. Pring-Wilson will likely get out before the two years, go back to graduate school, live a long, privileged life (he already started out that way) and pass along many opportunities to his children. Mr. Colono's child will likely not have any of these opportunities and no father.


Mr. Colono's past did not justify Mr. Pring-Wilson taking a life. What was Mr. Pring-Wilson doing with a knife. That in seventy seconds he could wield the knife in such a way that it killed Mr. Colono makes me believe that there is an angry past that perhaps was kept from the jury.


This just makes absolutely no sense.

Struggling to Find Words

I opened the story out of curiosity and added it to my playlist without really looking at what it was about. Truth be told, I listen to all remembrances of lost soldiers. It's tortuous. I cry every single time. It is absolutely the LEAST I can do. Whether or not I agree with the war, I cannot quarrel with the decision of any of the soldiers to be in the armed forces, to follow their commanders into battle or to serve with dignity in whatever unit they are assigned.


The more I listened to it, the worse it got. I stopped at one point to go directly to his blog to read what he had written. [You can read Major Olmstead final post here.] I had to go to a meeting and didn't get to finish listening to the piece.


In the meantime, I sent an email to the codepink listserv regarding some rather abusive messages that have been posted by someone who goes by DOE ONE (his/her email address is shockandawe2006@...com -- I post this not because I want anyone to send him/her nasty email, just to show that he/she hides behind an anonymity). I was going to sign off the list, instead I plead for moderation -- as in, moderator, please get this person off the list.


Here's what I wrote:

I came to the site to unsubscribe.I think it is unfair that I should have to unsubscribe, though, in order to nothave to deal with the many (and hateful) posts by DOE ONE who is clearly not acode pink member. Instead, I am going to plead for whomever is moderating this list to remove DOEONE from the list. It is clear to me from the posts that DOE ONE has no intention of moderatingthe tone of his/her posts. I know that the anonymity of posting to lists gives many the sense that theycan do and say that which they would not say to another person's face, but Iwould like to believe that we could maintain some sense of propriety in cyberspace by moderating the list. Thanks.

This is what DOE ONE wrote back:

i will be more than happy to say what i said, and even more,to your face but then you can not stand any opposing viewpointbecause your own beliefs are so flimsy and intellectuallydishonest that they can not stand against the blowing of a person with severe lung cancer

Obvious ignorance aside, this person knows nothing about me. I make NO personal attack towards him/her. I merely state the obvious (and you haven't seen the other posts made by this person, but they are NOT worthy of even excerpting for they are of no value and often rather vulgar): he/she is not on the list to further the discussion of code pink. This person may have joined in order to harangue, I don't know, but the posts have been inappropriate.


I turned back to my computer to finish reading Major Olmstead's final blog and to listen to the radio piece. I wonder what we are to do in this world with so little respect for each other. And, politics aside, the loss of another person who is willing to think through issues, share his thoughts in a respectful way, and who truly loves his life is a tragedy beyond words.


There are no words to offer his wife and family and friends (cyber space and in person). I am truly sorry for his loss. The world is mourning the gap he leaves. We were a better world with him it.

Thank you for your sacrifice, Major Olmstead. Thank you for choosing life even though it meant giving yours in return.

Walking the Walk and the Prayer

I haven't loved this series, This I Believe. Too many of the essays are just two abstract for me to either understand or internalize. I have wanted to be inspired and awed by the secret interior lives of people, but too often, I just wanted more.



Not today.



It is not surprising that Sister Prejean's essay, Living My Prayer would fulfill all the wants I had for this series. But it was still lovely to know that it was out there. I think her intentionality (besides her truly beautiful and earnest soul) about the writing of this particular essay is what ultimately does the trick. She is not trying to full from the tree something fully formed, she is writing to the prompt. Masterfully, I might add.



I wonder what others who listen to This I Believe feel about this... let me know if you drop by.

Navigating ferocious seas

When it comes to our families, we sometimes see only our differences. We see the way our parents cling to ideas we don’t believe, or act in ways we try not to act. We see how practical one of our siblings is and wonder how we can be from the same gene pool. From Daily Om: We Are Family

For me, visiting home (it's surprising that in my mind the house I grew up in still resonates as home given I haven't lived there in over 15 years), spending time with siblings and parents and especially over holidays generally means fear and sometimes nightmares.

Definition -- in my lifetime, I have had only one or two of the typical nightmares where someone chases me or I fear for my life/well-being in some way. My nightmares usually consist of someone (usually a family member) being "mean" to me or not sticking up for me when someone else is being "mean" to me. Clearly a window into my insecurities and perhaps into the beliefs I hold about myself and how I developed them.

So, Christmases and Thanksgivings are fraught with tension for me -- I want to be there but I am afraid of what will happen. We all seem to regress into our worst teenage selves as we cross the threshold of my parents' house. It doesn't help that my mother enjoys drama, especially if it means pitting one against another. Perhaps this is the lingering side affect of watching too many soap operas and/or novelas.

Each journey for me, then, must begin with prepping -- I have tried many strategies, but, invariably, all my good plans fall apart. Either I am not strong enough or I just misjudge the number of days my strength (and plan) will hold out. Eventually, the rubber band snaps, striking both me and the nearest target. This may or may not be the one who broke through my armor, flimsily attached as it was.

I alternate between swearing off seeing them and recommitting myself to "not letting them get to me." I guess what I have realized (or maybe just stopped fighting the realization) is that my achilles' heel is hope. Every time I believe this will be the time when they and I will behave in such a way so as not to cause irritation, anger, hurt feelings, and/or bitter resentment/utter disgust. Then one of us falls and when the anger or hurt subsides, I am left feeling utterly bereft and disillusioned. Ah, failure. Limiting my time there can sometimes avert the crash and burn, but it hardly seems like an adult solution. There goes the hope again. Maybe denial or lackof grounding in realityare better ways to describe it. Perhaps recognizing my and their limitations is a very adult solution.

Still hoping for the universe to grant me the patience, compassion and love for all of us in this situation -- though I know it is a question of me working through it.

Hope

It's a long article, so I won't re post it in its entirety. But, I recommend this article as the antidote to cynicism, hopelessness and overall malaise. This is my Christmas present to you (dear readers, the universe, Santa Claus).

Here are some of my favorite parts:

Parents at an elementary school here gathered last Thursday afternoon with a holiday mission: to prepare boxes of food for needy families fleeing some of the world’s horrific civil wars.

The community effort to help refugees resembled countless others at this time of year, with an exception. The recipients were not many thousands of miles away. They were students in the school and their families.
...

The three conceived of a school that would include hours of individual attention and an empathetic environment. They hoped to model it on the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s notion of “the beloved community,” where people of all races, nationalities and classes were accepted, and on the common schools established in the 19th century by Horace Mann.
“The mission,” Ms. Thompson said, “was never to create an enclave for refugees only, because that would just separate them more.” The founders saw this formulation as not just idealistic but practical. Studies have shown that low-income students benefit academically from exposure to middle- and upper-middle-class students. And Ms. Thompson and her colleagues believed that exposure to a wide range of cultures and ethnic backgrounds would appeal to affluent, socially minded parents....

Despite these challenges, the school grew. A new grade was added each year. A second campus was opened in space rented from another church a few miles away. Volunteers poured in, mostly retired teachers and students from nearby Emory University and Agnes Scott College.
All the while, administrators and teachers said, the school took its energy from the optimism many of its students had toward their new lives in the United States. Sometimes that optimism was hard to miss. One second grader from Congo is named Bill Clinton. ...

Parents from low-income families tend to choose the school over other nearby public schools because it is safe and has small classes. More affluent parents seek it for the potential benefits of exposure to so many cultures. Most of the middle- and upper-middle-class parents are social progressives from Decatur, a liberal enclave. But not all. Harvey Clark, whose son Zade is in the fifth grade, is a veteran of the Persian Gulf war and a Nascar fan. “They’re getting exposed to cultures that they normally would not be exposed to except in National Geographic,” Mr. Clark said of the American children. “Instead of my boy having to go off to war to meet foreign people, he can do it here in town.” ...

All good. But nothing beats the story about the friendship between Dante (American born student) and Soung (recently arrived refugee from Burma), these are excerpts, not the whole thing.

Consider the friendship between Ms. Ramirez’s 9-year-old son, Dante, and Soung Oo Hlaing, an 11-year-old Burmese refugee with dwarfism. Dante likes to read Harry Potter books and to play Shrek on his Wii video game console. ... Until he arrived last summer, Soung had lived in a refugee camp in Thailand. He spoke no English. ... The two boys met on the first day of school this year. Despite the language barrier, Dante managed to invite the newcomer to sit with him at lunch. “I didn’t think he’d make friends at the beginning because he didn’t speak that much English,” Dante said. “So I thought I should be his friend.”

I mean, come on, how sweet is that? Though we often make the observation that children have a great capacity to be cruel, we could just as easily comment on their infinite capacity for love and compassion.

I would say this of all children, and this continues to be my protest against going overseas to do "good" work before doing it here at home:

“When you see those kids who are as positive as they are, and you know what kind of problems they’re going through,” Mr. Moon said, “you just say, ‘This is worthy of my best shot.’”

remembering

I realized as we were pulling out of my childhood hometown today on our way to my sister's new town that I had not gone to the cemetery this trip.

One of my Christmas rituals is to visit the cemeteries. My mother's parents and a host of friends and relatives are buried in one and my father's parents and a few other relatives are buried in another.

It must be said that I enjoy going to cemeteries as you may have noticed. I have included famous cemeteries on my vacation trips and routinely visit the cemetery in my neighborhood though I don't personally know any one buried there. I find them calming in a way that I am not sure I can describe fully.

This trip, though, with no car of my own and a severely limited timetable, the trip to the cemetery didn't happen.

I feel sad and guilty. As a child, we would regularly visit my grandparents, clean their area, bring them flowers, say a little prayer. My parents didn't like to linger at the cemetery, but they seemed to have a commitment to the visit. I felt close to those grandparents, all gone from the earth by the time I was 12, in an odd ethereal way. In the cemetery, those grandparents could be whatever I wanted them to be and I was whoever they want me to be. It's an odd way to look at it, I am sure, but there you have it.

A classmate, friend and old crush died twenty years ago this Christmas. He is on my regular visit cycle. Every year at Christmas, and sometimes other times of the year too, I spend a little time with Jaime at his grave. I feel guilty about not spending more time thinking about him and the waste it was for him to die when we were 17. Certainly at some times of my life, his death has weighed heavier on me than others. It was always comforting to go to his grave and find it decorated. I was reassured that though I may be far away there were others remembering and loving him from closer by. Last year, at his grave, there were little or no decorations. I wondered if his family might have moved. I was sad to think they had moved on emotionally, though you couldn't really fault them for it. How many years would it take to not feel guilty that this is where his life had led him when our lives had gone on? I wept this year recalling that it had been 20 years. He's been dead longer than he was alive and he is still that fresh young face in my memory.

To be completely honest, Jaime lives on in my life not only out of guilt or sad nostalgia; his spirit is frequently present with me. I know that he has long been one of my guides, watching over me with my grandparents. Truthfully he watches my life more like a soap opera than as a sage offering advice, but when I remember, thinking about his presence lightens my load.

Perhaps that is why it was all the more sad for me to not have made it to visit him this year. He doesn't forget me and I don't want him to think that I have forgotten him.

Merry Christmas, Jaime.

The Happiest Place on Earth

Originally from 12.19.06


Lest you think I am just another sheep following the bell, I know that there is more to life. There are many parts of the day that made me wonder about how much fun I was having and what this all meant in terms of the many counter-culture beliefs I hold dear. Though, I am strong enough to know the difference between enjoying and believing. I do, however, understand the importance of teaching our children this difference.

The fact is I had a great time. The parts that stand out in my mind:
1) helpful, cheery employees (frankly, I don't care if they were faking it; it is a nice reprieve from the many sullen teenagers I must deal with in any retail establishment).
2)The rides at Disney are designed to fill your senses, not just provide spills and thrills. The advent of 4D only adds strategies and components, the same love of a stor is present.
3) mental health issues aside, it is still awe inspiring to me that one man made his dream a reality; even if his dream was all about fantasy. It really can be a good thing -- in moderation.

The Giving Season

At this time of the year, those of us who have a little change rattling in our pockets (or savings accounts) may turn our thoughts to charity, end of the year giving and, of course, tax benefits.

I read with interest this little article (also heard something on NPR about the topic) about those who try to tease out which charity is doing the best with the least amount of money.

Don't get me wrong, I check into the charities before I give. Rather, I do now after realizing that some of my favorite charities weren't living up to the hype.

Listening to a conversation on the radio, though, about this, I came to the conclusion, as did the guests, that the best you can really do is be involved with the organizations. Get a bird's eye view. So, it is hard to do with national organizations, but really possible with local organizations.

At the moment, I am down to only two charities, though in more flush times, there was at least one more that I routinely supported. (The little donations to support friends and colleagues with a particular fundraiser don't count for me. I am supporting the person running or walking not so much the organization.) My two are NPR (my local station KQED) and Family Builders.

I feel as though I really do owe NPR/KQED lots of cash. I am a news junkie and would have the news programs delivered directly into my ears if I could. Oh yeah, I kind of do. Sometimes I stream the local radio station. Love The NEWS Hour at 3pm. But, I also use NPR's media player where I can add in all the stories I want to hear and if I don't get to it or the browser crashes, well, it remembers what I wanted to hear. The small amount of money I set aside for these services, well, it just doesn't compare to the hours of listening pleasure. That is not even mentioning the many, wonderful shows I catch on the PBS TV station (also KQED). As soon as I have more money, I will be augmenting my gift. Except for during the pledge times (where I have been a volunteer, what fun!), where there is an incessant stream of musical offerings (not MY cup of tea), I love to watch PBS. Free, no cable needed, and usually a good picture with my antenna.

I sit on the board of Family Builders, so I see first hand the incredible work they do. This is a case where quantity is not the issue. You could spend a tiny bit of money on a lot of people with so so results and call it a success (I have worked at these such organizations). Creating lasting families and relationship bonds between people is simply not a low cost proposition. Family Builders makes a lifetime commitment to the families it brings together, modeling the behavior it would most like to see its clients emulate. When I chose to sit on Family Builders and not some other adoption agency/foster care organization the biggest selling point was the after care.

No other agency that I investigated took the time to both train the families (preplacement) AND support those families for life (postadoption). In the intervening years, the organization has continued to show foresight and compassion for the children in foster care. Long committed to finding homes for the "hard to place" child, read over 4 years old or physically/mentally disabled or just not whte, Family Builders has led the way in helping those youth who are still in foster care in their teens and facing the possibility of "aging out" of the system. For those not in the know, that means getting put on the street to take care of yourself at the age of 18, often with no money in your pocket and all of your belongings in a garbage bag. Family Builders has crafted programs and advocacy campaigns around this issue. You can and should read more about it on the website, though it is in process of being updated so bear with it if it's light on content at the moment.

All this to say, it is good to worry about where your money goes, but getting the most out of a dollar is not always the BEST you can do. And the best way to find out about an organization is to spend some time with its constituents and its employees.

Find the one you love and trust and give what you can.

Christmas and Family

If you have time, listen to the clip... it will bring tears to your eyes, I promise. And it will be worth it.

For all of you who, like me, sometimes have a hard time getting ready for Christmas...for all of you who, like me, feel battered by the commercialism...for all of you who, like me, want to feel warm and fuzzy about Christmas, but have a real hard time doing it, you need to hear Carrie Conley and her son talk about Christmas in their single-mom, low-income family.

If you don't have time to listen, you can read most of the text below, but you won't be able to hear the love in their voices.

Happy four days before Christmas, y'all...

p.s. just heard this one...too funny; listen and get into the spirit.
Generous jewish man plays santa.

Morning Edition, December 21, 2007 ·
When Carrie Conley's husband left in the early 1960s, she started raising six children on her own. She took a job at a hospital, delivering meals to patients as what was called "a tray girl."
Jerry Johnson, the youngest child in the family, was 5 years old when his dad left. Speaking with his mother recently, Johnson heard his mother repeat the question she asked at that time.
"Lord, what am I going to do with all these kids, by myself?"
The answers came in the form of lima beans, black-eyed peas and low prices on chicken necks. "Something to boil for every day of the week," Conley said.
"I cannot remember one Christmas that I didn't feel like the luckiest kid in the world," Johnson said. "Even though now I realize, we had hardly anything in terms of money."
"How did you hold all that together?" he asked his mother.
Conley said she would save up her sick days at work, going in no matter how she felt. Then in December, the company would pay her for the unused sick days.
More help came in castoffs, when wealthy families would clean out their toy chests at Christmastime and take a load of toys to the Salvation Army.
Conley would pick through them, finding the best ones for her children.
The result of those sacrifices: a big, happy Christmas for Conley and her kids.
"But I never did tell you it was a Santa Claus," Conley said, "because I said that I cannot give no man credit for what [I'm doing.]"
Johnson thanked his mom for her sacrifices, and for the good example she set for him and his siblings.
"I think it's helping us all be better parents," Johnson said.
"You know, my whole heart was my kids," Conley said." And the Lord blessed all of them. And I'm so grateful."
In 1975, Conley retired from Detroit's Outer Drive Hospital. Jerry was a sophomore in college at that time.
He later graduated from Washington University Medical School and received a degree in Internal Medicine and Pediatrics.
Produced for 'Morning Edition' by Selly Thiam. The senior producer for StoryCorps is Michael Garofalo.

now you're talking my language

Just when I was thinking that my graduate school goals were going to be another exercise in futility... I see this article about the Woodrow Wilson National Fellowship Foundation and their new president's dream to remake teacher education.

Little signs from the universe.

The Headline Says It All

"Lynne Spears' Book Delayed Indefinitely"

I did go on to read the article, though it was really unnecessary. If you feel the need, I gave you the link.

One -- I am less interested in the fact that this woman's 16-year-old daughter is pregnant than I am in the increase of teenage pregnancy in general or the latest phenomenon of single women wanting to be mothers without partners.

Two -- These are the days when I am so glad not to have cable. I am sick to death of having to hear about the details of the lives of young women who feel the need to not only ruin their own lives and poison their bodies but who also want to ruin the lives of their children. Please, don't give me any more details about this young woman's pregnancy and don't tell me what she does with the kid when she has it.

I do care about children forced into foster care because their parents lack the ability or will to care for them. I do something about it... www.familybuilders.org ... you can too.