United States

Prepare For Good Luck

I always prepare for good luck. Now, we are all truly preparing for good luck. My fear, aside from loved ones becoming sick with COVID19, and an even more unmanageable situation in hospitals and throughout, is that we begin to fear one another even more than we did. I fear that the virus will be a brand, like HIV-AIDS was. Despite the more ubiquitousness of COVID19, people who are not (yet) sick, may have a false sense not only of security, but of ability.

I fear that people may begin to regard those who are sick and not in the most vulnerable demographics as being worthy of condemnation or suspicion, merely for becoming sick. I fear the original usage of social distancing. I fear our loss of compassion just as we were beginning to find some. 

There is much to fear at this moment, as so much is beyond our control. While attempting to stay informed, I confess that I protect my fragile psyche with not entertaining thoughts about the looming disaster while still doing whatever I can within reason to ensure comfort and endurance, at least for the next couple of weeks at a time. It’s all I can do. (That, and utter gratitude for all that I have.)

I have always felt incredibly lucky. That doesn’t mean that there has never been effort or challenge. Of course there has been plenty, like anyone else, and I know that pain and suffering—physical and mental–are debilitating. Too often I have been fearful, which is its own form of pain and suffering, and exacerbates all conditions. It distorts and diminishes possibility. It infects on top of infections. And when fear arises within me, I feel powerless.

I am not unafraid of the possibilities of bad luck in this time of COVID19, but I am not particularly afraid. That could change at any time, of course, but now I am mostly afraid of fear (thank you, FDR), and what suffering it causes. 

Much has already been acknowledged about how much has been laid bare as we are scrambling to prepare for good luck across the globe, but especially across the USA. The crisis will not be forever, but who knows how long temporary is? The dire prospects are most unsettling, even imagining the aftermath. As we have seen before, the possibility of compassion and responsibility redefining us as we meet this novel virus is upon us. There is also the possibility of being overwhelmed by fear and losing our greatest strength, our compassion.

We are social beings who can’t be social right now. Our social distancing is, ironically, a way to be social while attempting to mitigate exposure to the virus. As we are beginning to meet this challenge and be prepared, prepare to dig deep to mitigate fear. Be compassionate to yourself and others, and prepare for good luck. 

The Sharpie’s the Point

It’s hard to think of a single moment or tweet that would define this President or this presidency. Each one seems to be jaw dropping.  But his Etch-a Sketch altering the National Weather Service’s map of Hurricane Dorian’s path points to the profound stupidity, ignorance, stubbornness, illegality, incompetency, and as Pete Buttigieg suggested, “pathetic”-ness of this presidency.

The visual of the Sharpie map, much less being held up by Trump, is one that will linger longer than the chants or the tweets. Have you ever seen anything so amateur, much less from the office that is supposed to be the most professional in the world? Of course the entire presidency has been amateur at best.  This White House doesn’t even feign professionalism or the art of governance. They provide fake news and might as well use an Etch-a-Sketch. Just shake it and it goes away. But this one won’t.

The point of Trump’s magic marker alteration of Dorian’s path was a contemptible attempt to “prove” that he did not misspeak about the hurricane risk to Alabama. Like magic, he could mark the path as he meant it to be on an official government weather map and everything would be ok. Except that people’s homes and lives were in danger (or not). People had to make actual decisions that affected their lives. Oh, and it’s illegal to alter a National Weather Service map. 

Like he has always done, Trump reveals his truth by projection. His accusations of fake news could not be more perfectly manifested than on his Sharpie map. His ignorance, (either not knowing, or not caring, or both) of the legal ramifications in the moment, were literally on display.  His lack of talent, intellect, knowledge, curiosity, thoughtfulness, steadiness, decency, maturity, flexibility, depth, or caring were indelibly marked with that Sharpie. He doesn’t even play POTUS well. He blames everyone for what he is and does. He knows it and so do we. He can try to show a false projection, but we know better. 

Whenever you get frustrated over actual policies that require nuance and compromise and serious thought, remember this ridiculous map. That cone of silence that is the party of Trump is complicit in all that is deplorable emanating from this White House. Sharpies are for labeling. Trump is good at labeling. That’s it. The Sharpie’s the point. I hope this absurd incident will remain indelible. We need to remember that we can be (and have) so much better. 

Make No Bones

Make no bones about it….telling someone (much less four women of color who are MEMBERS OF CONGRESS) to go back to their countries is a bigoted, hateful, racist, deplorably hideous statement. It is also reflective of an an ignorant and stupid person playing POTUS, as 3 of the 4 Congresswomen were born in the USA, and the 4th is a naturalized citizen. It’s a shameful and disgraceful statement to say to anyone, not to mention, immature and pathetic. 

In response to criticism that the POTUS is a racist, he declared that he doesn’t have “a racist bone in his body”.  And of course, the responses to that ranged from suggesting that he has a racist spleen, to a racist heart, and mind. 

Apparently, one can say that tweets are racist and have that be distinct from the tweeter being racist. We all know how absurd this whole thing is, and we all know how unacceptable this is from anyone, much less the POTUS.

Make no bones about it, bigotry is anti-Democratic; it is UnAmerican (in the aspirational sense).  Of course, the skeletons in America’s closet have always been about bigotry and discrimination.  The calcification of hate has allowed it to re-emerge front and center, and cause excruciating pain. 

Plenty has been said about the phrase, “I don’t have a racist bone in my body”, which only seems to be uttered by people who make bigoted comments, even if they don’t think they are saying something bigoted or racist. The obviousness is not lost. The certainty of exclusion and discrimination is definite, even if cowards refuse to acknowledge it. 

Make no bones about it, with the exception of 4 Republicans in The House, and one Independent, the Republican party stands in solidarity with a POTUS who is utterly reprehensible. They choose to defend the indefensible, and the shocking cowardice mounts daily.

If someone wanted to express dissatisfaction, they would “make no bones about it”.  It would be a simple, unequivocal statement, not a tortured word salad. In fact, the phrase “make no bones about it” derives from 15th century England. In this origin story, if one found bones in soup, it made it difficult and unsatisfying to eat. Make no bones about it—its consistency is satisfactory.

Make no bones about it, we know hate and fear when we have to digest it daily (if not hourly). We see discrimination and cruelty every day with policies; with cold cases and new cases; with ridiculous verdicts that let evil go unpunished and unchecked; with the megaphone that the Troller in Chief uses to expel gas that gets ignited by fearful, angry cowards who feel powerful by ranting and spewing hate, which they like to cloak in faux love and patriotism.  

People can have radically different views of patriotism and a vision for our country without discriminating. Make no bones about it, we know that those who stand with hateful words and actions are complicit, and we are so much better than those who seek to spoil. 

Our Lady

What a week! It is Good Friday today and Passover Eve tonight, following the release of the somewhat redacted Mueller Report, which followed the Barr Presser/Spinner. Earlier in the week we were aghast as we watched much of Notre Dame engulfed in flames. 

I know you are still digesting the Mueller Report, and perhaps anticipating family and religious celebrations this weekend, but think a bit about the extreme events and emotions of this week.

We shared sadness while watching Notre Dame burn, and relief over what didn’t burn. While much was discussed about the incredible history of the cathedral, and the brilliance of architecture and art that it represented as well as religion, the burning emblem of Western Civilization seemed metaphoric to me. 

What was painstakingly built from a breathtaking idea, with mastery, knowledge, beauty, reverence, guidance,  for the public for the ages, was burning down. To some, the story was the raging fire; to others it was about the remains and rebuilding. It was not only about Notre Dame. It was about our lady as well.

We have been losing our Democracy for some time. It has been in serious need of repair. Then, as though engulfed in an uncontrollable fire, we’ve been watching with horror as “norms” that have buttressed our Democracy have been burned down. In our case, it’s been arson.

Yes, we can save much,  and we can rebuild. And we shall. But the embers are still sizzling here, and some are even reigniting.  

We need more of the lady-ness, not the raging. More than a statue of liberty, we need our lady, our elegant Democracy, to be restored and renewed and built for a healthier future. Whatever your celebration, I hope you are inspired toward participation. And Vote! It’s the most Ladylike thing you can do. 

 

Same Year Next Time

Every New Year we decide to create the past. The year that was is no longer an ongoing saga, but something that happened. That was then. Now becomes the future. This year is a wish; a hope; maybe an intention. 

When we are in a positive mood looking toward the possibilities of the new year, we accentuate the favorable, as though we know how to conquer the negative now.

We look back at what went wrong, and how we were oppressed and/or depressed, and vow to do differently going forward. 

We celebrate surviving that which terrified us or traumatized us, or whatever we had to get through, and imagine not having to face such situations again, because time is on our side now.

We look at History and compare and contrast to previous moments, characters, and events. We  think this time will be different. It’s so many years (decades, centuries,….) hence; we are better. 

We like to believe that we have progressed to the extent that basic human qualities—the ones that tend to drive history—have been mastered. And yet, in each generation, the dramas are reenacted. 

We believe we bury the past with the promise of each new year. Somehow though, Zombies walk among us. The fascist from a century ago; the Nazi; the homophobe; the misogynist; the racist; the ones who seemed to be not of this era, but who desperately want to redefine it in some retro-limited way.  How is this possible? Isn’t time progressive? Isn’t Evolution ultimately positive transformation?

When anger, resentment, ignorance, and other negative emotions arise in conditions that breed negativity, historical moments seem to repeat themselves. Is it 1919? Is it 1939? is it 1968? Is it 1974? When will we have the next Katrina? Will we have another  9-11 soon?

Of course it is helpful to have historical markers—to remind ourselves and learn the lessons of History. We forget too quickly and assume that progress and evolution don’t have to be reinforced. Ignorance isn’t merely lack of acquisition of information and knowledge. It is lack of awareness. It is also a lack of inclusive thought. 

We don’t have to relive previous years in the next year. We have learned quite a bit about how to progress and how to persist to overcome the inevitable setbacks (and worse). We can use those historic markers to inspire bigger thinking. We have an even clearer picture of the threats and bile and just negative aspects of human nature (and Mother Nature) now. But we have always progressed by nurturing the best and creating anew. The regressive, negative aspects will always challenge us, but we don’t have to think like it’s the same year next time. 

It’s 2019!! Happy NEW Year! 

Hearing Impaired

We watched the Kavanaugh Hearing and listened. What did you hear? I felt sick watching and listening to Dr. Blasey Ford’s testimony. She has been carrying this awful trauma for most of her life. Her bravery and authenticity were matched by her humble dignity and kindness. She was guileless. She may not have been aware of her impact. One need not have endured an assault like the one she did to have one’s heart open and also harden. Why do humans have to endure torture?

There is a particular heinousness to sexual assault, but any assault to anyone is horrific. Dr. Blasey Ford’s trembling, gentle voice resonated both excruciating pain and kindness.  Her education and professionalism were evidenced by her elucidating scientific explanation of how trauma and memory work and manifest, not by mentioning her resume. We heard her, and felt anguish.

Judge Kavanaugh bellowed and protested throughout his hearing. One can certainly feel compassion for a man who has prepared for years for the Supreme job, (or any job), and for having his name smeared in the media without evidence. He has a family too. He was irate and rude, and even in his contempt for the other party and whatever conspiracy he thinks is out to get him and cause pain to his family, I never heard him mention the pain caused to Dr. Blasey Ford’s family.

I heard a lot of yelling and overt disrespect to the senators whose job was to interview him. I heard talking points and bullying. I heard a familiar script. I heard anger and stoking distrust and fear. I listened for that which would make this nominee worthy of being a Supreme Court Justice. How could someone who throws a tantrum throughout the Hearing be able to listen with an open mind to Supreme cases? How could someone who begins by declaring a left wing conspiracy and a Democrat smear campaign, yelling with venom, be impartial?

Then there was the bizarre situation of the calm prosecutor hired by the Republican senators on the committee to question Dr. Blasey Ford, while Lindsey Graham let loose during the Kavanaugh half. It was mind boggling, and embarrassing for us as a country.

The Senate confirmation hearings have been akin to Kabuki Theater for decades, but this was beyond excruciating for Americans . We heard testimony and felt pain and outrage at what people (especially women) must endure, mostly in silence. When the silence is broken, the real victim is further victimized. The powerful male claiming to be a victim is quite a spectacle. The goal isn’t to tear down powerful (white) men. The goal is authenticity and accountability.  We heard personal pain and outrage by the witnesses, but watched a very impaired hearing. 

I’m sure I’m not alone in feeling this reckoning with so much that is wrong with us, and how much unnecessary pain is inflicted. This week has been particularly difficult to be an American. It has been difficult to be a woman. I have such pain that isn’t my own story. I ache for all of us. The bully playbook is so obvious and works temporarily. It’s also obvious who listens and who can’t even hear. 

We deserve much better than the tone deaf politics and noise that have impaired all of us. 

Omarosa! (To the tune of Oklahoma!)

Oooooooh….Omarosa, the apprentice winning

Trump’s own game.

She’s got a book to sell

Some tapes that tell

That a lying, racist White House

Is to blame.

Oooooooh….Omarosa wants to blow the whistle 

Starting now.

She was fine before

Going through the door

Of The Oval and The Sit Room

Who knows how?

(interlude)

We know that she’s mostly a sham.

And, like Trump, she’s a media ham.

But when we saaaaaaaaaa AY

Om-a-rosa’s news todaaaaaaaa AY

We really know that

It’s President Trump’s 

Omarosa.

Protege.

The Comb Over

In an attempt to disguise, strands are carefully swept across and over the other side.  The intention is to cover; conceal; shield. The part that divides one direction from the other gets lowered to convey a sense of fullness and depth. The look is achieved with gusts of hot air.

It’s quite a style that attracts attention, yet it seems glaring that something quite different exists underneath the Comb Over. The effort to maintain this deception of what’s actually there is extreme, and the coverup is usually worse than the crime. Well, maybe not in this case, despite the desperation of the Comb Over. 

The Comb Over, attempting to deflect from the bald truth, is a daily routine of bald-faced lies. The vanity and ignorance, much less the deflection of the naked truth, gets combed over and over and over calling more attention to what’s being camouflaged.

It’s become a very hairy situation. 

Litmus Test

 

 A guy shoots up a newsroom, killing 5 journalists. President says nothing in response to event or to reporters’ questions following the incident. That night, the video of  the President silently walking past reporters, ignoring their questions about the mass shooting at the Capital Gazette newsroom, was aired on tv and social media. A long day later, he stated that “journalists shouldn’t have to be fearful of being attacked while doing their jobs”. But  to Trump, journalists are “the enemy of the people”.  

So, another mass shooting that couldn’t be prevented, because how could we possibly stop the outlier? Each time? Beforehand?  We could arm teachers! Where are those good guys with guns? 

This is a reflection of our culture and politics. We live in danger of being shot anywhere because we won’t regulate lethal weaponry and have poor mental healthcare. Guns are considered masculine, even when women use them. They are the ultimate symbol of American individualism and self sufficiency. They are said to be for protection, but they are for killing (or injuring) full human  (and other) beings. They are meant to cause suffering and fear.

Even those who want to see loopholes closed, better screening , and better mental healthcare across the country, understand that there is a cultural affinity for guns, legitimized by the Second Amendment. 

Why, then, has abortion become the litmus test of our culture and politics? Why has Roe v Wade, which legalized abortion, always seemed dispensable ? The “Right to Life” is only valid as a potential life, but not once born—an actual life? Many like to mock the Clintons’ stance that abortions should be “safe, legal, and rare”, because, well, Hilary said that. The circumstance of pregnancy is unique. But it does include women’s health, and I do think abortions should be safe, legal, and rare.

 Abortion is not some newfangled cultural phenomena that began with The Feminine Mystique. Abortions have always existed, and have been dangerous (and criminal) until I was 10. But the cultural zeal and singular voting issue that has overridden everything in my lifetime has been the issue of abortion. 

Physicians have been shot (and killed) over the idea of getting rid of Roe v Wade, thereby criminalizing abortions (and OBGYNs who might perform the procedure). Right to life?

The President of Trumpistan understands that putting an anti-abortion judge on The Supreme Court will keep his base applauding, and his congressional lackeys collecting contributions. The ridiculous argument that gets put forward that it should be a states’ rights issue, not a federal one, sticks because it is an effective political move to limit access in Red states. Culturally and politically, the so-called “Right to Lifers” have all but eradicated the legality of early termination of a pregnancy, while opening up the floodgates for more semiautomatic weaponry without restrictions on use. 

Sure, there are several issues that delineate the views of the Supreme Court, but none are as contentious as Roe v Wade. Not even guns. We have deluded ourselves across our culture and politics into accepting certain rights as necessary for freedom and, ironically, life, and others as oppressive. Moreover, we have been so divided and hateful over this issue. We have so little room for accepting differing concepts, or compromising. 

Abortion is the issue that most are concerned about now that Kennedy is stepping down from the high court. Shouldn’t we be talking more about the mass murder at a newsroom? 

Dismissal

Hasn’t it all been said already? The Valentine’s Day massacre at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida yesterday killing 17, shot another round through the heart of America.

While I was getting ready for my Valentine’s Day dinner, a celebration of love and romance, the news was on with interviews with a teacher, students, the superintendent, doctors, and police. I had to leave the room. I had heard the initial reports and interviews a bit earlier, and the rehashing and inevitable platitudes and explanations were nauseating.

I heard the police chief urge, “If you see something, say something.” The heat of anger began to pulse through my arteries. If only people had said something? That was it?

I thought about the timing of this unspeakable act of terror in a school not far from where I lived until a couple months ago. The shooting rampage began near the end of the school day. I thought about the shooter’s’ plan: As kids would be getting ready for dismissal, on an especially social day, Valentine’s Day, the shooter could exact revenge for his own misery.

We have a gun problem in America. But that gets dismissed. We have a violence problem in America. But that gets dismissed. We have a mental health problem in America. But that gets dismissed. We have an education problem in America. But that gets dismissed. We have an economic disparity problem in America. But that gets dismissed. We have a Culture problem in America. But that gets dismissed. And we have a grave political problem in America that too many try to dismiss.

If your heart is heavy, as is mine, don’t dismiss the love you feel. Don’t dismiss the possibility you can envision. And don’t dismiss the reality of misery, violence, access to weapons, political cowardice, and the consequences—intended or otherwise—of dismissal.