For a World Weary of Worries...MUSIC!

Shakespeare wrote, 'Sleep, that knits up the raveled sleeve of care...'
Perhaps, but music is surely the reason that careworn sleeve doesn't ravel irretrievably before one can sleep...

And so, my daughter has added music to my blog. She set it so it plays on, heedless of whether the reader wishes it to, but I hope you'll turn it down--or UP!--according to your wont. There's an eclectic choice in this inaugural lot:

From John Lennon's anthem to Linkin Park's anguish, I'm heavily influenced by my kids these days--but not in the choice of These Days! My daughter grimaced at that one. She added the Goo Goo Dolls and Matchbox 20, both of which I love. Serj Tankian is my son's ante--a striking singer who's often over the top, but right on the mark with these anti-war songs. And as for 100 Years...I send this beautiful song out to all of you from where it sits next to Pachelbel's Canon in my soul.

May you dance.

Letters of Hope and Futility

Dear readers,
Please check out another excellent post about our economic woes at Blue Lyon, http://bluelyon.wordpress.com/
Signed,
Fiery Side

Dear neighbor,
Take heart. I'm writing to some people who can still help you.
Signed,
Cathylee

Dear democrats in power,
After all the betrayal you--Nancy Pelosi, Harry Reid, and all the rest of the congressional democrats--have inflicted on us, I'm sitting here, willing you to do the right thing. Climbing on board one last time to hope there's a shred of decency in our REPRESENTATIVES.

Finally, at long last, prove me right, democrats. Convince me that I haven't been a proud Democrat all these years of my life for nothing. After validating the Patriot Act, the Military Commissions Act, the bankruptcy bill, the Supreme Court justices, THE IRAQ OCCUPATION--just to name a few--give us something to believe in again.

Don't let Paulson put the CEOs and Wall Street in the lifeboats.

Put Americans back in their homes, instead.

Start with my neighbor, could you please? He's about 60, disabled, and spends his days drinking in order to forget he's got only a short time left to spend in the house he bought a couple of decades ago. Maybe you could just save his garage for him. It's filled with a lifetime of tools, machines, and stuff he's collected. It's all that really matters to him.

Try this, democrats: put a face on your actions. Make them real. Think of my neighbor.

For once, after all these years of rolling over, backing off, and, in the case of the democratic nomination, lying and cheating--for once and finally, DO THE RIGHT THING.

Now. Please.

Signed,
The Woman Who Lives Next Door To Another Soon-To-Be-Homeless-Person

Get Thee Behind Us, Woman!

This one's for you, Gram.

When I was a little girl, I got to sit at my first real desk, stamping and sealing envelopes. I was proudly introduced to all who passed, and I was even more proud to claim the tall, red-haired business woman beside me as my gram.

Her name was Opal Else Free Kotson. She was an executive at Montgomery Ward. She worked her way up from the bottom with acumen, tenacity and smarts. She did it all on an eighth grade education and sheer determination. Because you see, even with all those names after her given name, she lived a single life caring for two children without help. If she couldn't cut it, they didn't eat.

It wasn't until I was in my twenties and she'd retired that I learned the cold, hard facts about her career. She had made it to the top echelon of management in Montgomery Ward. There were three positions higher than hers. I asked why she hadn't tried for those.

She had.

That was when she was told there would be no further movement in her career. Women were not allowed in the top three management slots.

I remember looking aghast at my gram. And I remember to a tee what I felt...ineffable sorrow that this vital, intelligent woman had spent so many years of her life gazing through that glass ceiling while giving that company every iota of her effort and allegiance...and heartfelt relief that society was past that horrible hurdle—it wasn't going to cripple me, nor any daughters I would have.

Well, I did have a daughter, and when she was eight months old, my gram had just about finished her walk through this world. I raced home with my son and my daughter from where we were living in Germany, but to no avail. She departed our grasp while we were somewhere over the North Atlantic.

So my daughter never got to know her great-gram, though I'd like to think she carries a bit of Opal Else's spirit within her. But certainly, my daughter would travel an equal road with her male counterparts, thanks to the painful trails my gram, and so many like her, blazed.

Au contraire.

Just like my gram, women have reached the plateau of top management in politics. And just like her, so woefully many decades ago, women are being told, unequivocally, that's quite far enough...

'Uh, uh, uh! Not so fast! You can hang with us up here, but don't be thinking you get to be our boss. No way, no how, not gonna happen. And if you persist in your efforts to run the show, we'll send you packing. And it ain't gonna be pretty. So be nice, back off, and

...get thee behind us, woman.'

Palin, Preludes, and Priorities

I've now received no less than 15 anti-Palin emails.

They deride her qualifications, plead with the reader to send out a global alarm, and urge all women to protest the governor's appearances.

Imagine if the same energy had been put into stopping the slaughter in Iraq.

In No WoMan's Land

I've come to a fascinating, tragic place.

'Fascinating' because I'm seeing things so crisply clearly as to be a wonderment.
'Tragic' because I never wanted to be here and wish I wasn't.

And where I am is in that 'neutral' area between opposing trenches. No WoMan's Land. Having been on the Left Trench since forever, I find it sad to report on my new digs, but there you are. Couldn't say whether I was evicted from the Left Trench or whether I vacated it of my own volition—I just know I left it kicking, screaming, and desperately clinging to any fair outcropping I could find...till there were simply none left.

I want to stress that I am not intending to, and avowedly never will, move to the Right Trench. The terrain from No WoMan's Land up to the Right Trench is forbidding indeed, being devoid of outstretched arms to help one up if one slips and falls. In addition, the embankment is dangerously covered with gun emplacements for each new war, as well as hidden mines from all the wars that are not yet finished. Also, choice here seems to lie principally with the men, being doled out only incrementally to the women.

So, while I know real estate is going cheap on the Right Trench and it's a buyer's market, I'm certain it's like those inexpensive printers that voraciously eat ink that corporate America got us all to buy—you don't pay much up front but you'll pay through the nose for years and years to come.

Thus, I'm in a dilemma. I am smarter than to fall for the 'printer ruse' and buy on the Right Trench, but I refuse to go back to the Left Trench, where every day, from sunrise to weary sunset, one must march in lock-step with everyone else there. If one does not, one endures ostracism, hostility, and eventually, eviction. This is particularly true for the strong, free-thinking women on the Left Trench.

So here I sit in No WoMan's Land, watching the tracers from the Right and Left Trenches fly over my head. This is where the fascinating clarity of vision comes in...I'm certain those tracers were always tracking across this sad, isolated land, but darned if I ever saw them leave the Left Trench. All we would yell from there was, 'Incoming!' Now, I'm not saying there was no outgoing, but I'd always proudly lived there because our outgoing was in the form of intelligent answers, reasoned responses, and a world order that believed in helping the world keep order. For every last one of us.

Alas and alack. I regret to say, with crystal clear acuity of vision, that the slugs and pellets zipping overhead are indistinguishable from each other. Those from the Left Trench match—and lately surpass—the Right Trench in nastiness and hate. In fact, of late, the ammo sent right-ward are sexist-tipped bullets, incredibly narrow and heedless of collateral damage.

I don't like it here. But hell if I'm going to climb back into the Right Trench, whatever pretty intentions they offer up. And as each day passes, with the volleys of anti-distaff shot in anger and desperation from the Left Trench, hell if I'm going back there.

Not without a mass exodus of present leaders and lots of the lock-steppers.

I guess we here in No WoMan's Land can just keep relating our individual books about the good old days on the Left Trench. Until we're all allowed to remember them again.

An Intimidating Woman

A good friend of mine recently sent me a link to an opinion piece in the New York Times. It was by a Judith Warner and it was titled, 'The Mirrored Ceiling'. I'll quote from the very first paragraph of the essay, to give you an idea about it:

“It turns out there was something more nauseating than the nomination of Sarah Palin as John McCain’s running mate this past week. It was the tone of the acclaim that followed her acceptance speech.”

So that's the lay of the land on what follows. I invite you to go to the link and read it in its entirety, http://warner.blogs.nytimes.com/2008/09/04/the-mirrored-ceiling/?em but I'll confine myself to just one aspect of it here, with a good faith effort to agree with someone who is as rudely incendiary as the media can offer.

If we turn to the contempt-soaked paragraphs that deal with a woman as an 'intimidating presence'...

“....I think, they find her acceptably “real,” because Palin’s not intimidating, and makes it clear that she’s subordinate to a great man.
That’s the worst thing a woman can be in this world, isn’t it? Intimidating, which appears to be synonymous with competent. It’s the kiss of death, personally and politically.

But shouldn’t a woman who is prepared to be commander in chief be intimidating? Because of the intelligence, experience, talent and drive that got her there? If she isn’t, at least on some level, off-putting, if her presence inspires national commentary on breast-pumping and babysitting rather than health care reform and social security, then something is seriously wrong. If she doesn’t elicit at least some degree of awe, then something is missing.

Absolutely. Couldn't agree more. In fact, this—shouldn't a woman who is prepared to be commander in chief be intimidating? Because of the intelligence, experience, talent and drive that got her there?--most perfectly describes Hillary Clinton.

And just look what they did to her song.

Before You Cut Governor Palin Off At The Mukluks, At Least Take An Instant To Understand Whence She Comes

I'm a Nevadan. Now. But I grew up in Colorado, Oregon, Massachusetts, California, Washington, Illinois, Texas, Arizona, Hawaii...and I learned that each state has its own personality and its own slate of residents that adore it.

Well, my son was born in Alaska. I spent two years there. Up in North Pole, Alaska, just outside of Fairbanks. And I learned a lot about that unique state and how one comes to feel about it. Let me illuminate my readers...which is more than what the sun does for Fairbanks for a good chunk of the year.

In a nutshell, Alaska is as beautiful as it is harsh and those that stay there like the trade-offs just fine, thank you very much.

Let me give you a glimpse of the harsh: my son was born in October (under a midnighty sky at 3PM) so he accompanied me as an infant on my trips to the store throughout the winter. No big deal, you might think. Uh, uh. Here's the routine...I'd pull up to the store and strap on my baby carrier, then pull on my coat (warm down to -60 degrees). Thus armed, I'd get out of my door, plug in my car, then climb into the back door where my son was in his car seat. After strapping him into the baby carrier on my chest and zipping up my coat so that he was concealed inside it, I got out of the car again and headed for the store. Once inside, I'd shed the coat and let my son surface. Then, when we'd finished shopping it was time to do it all again in reverse. Sounds like a process, but in truth, it got to be routine with my only constant worry being whether I'd blocked every square inch of cold from my son's head, which was silly because that head was always sporting a cozy cap.

Of course, you don't want to stay too long in the store in the particularly cold weather because, while plugging in the engine block saves your car, the tires can actually square themselves to the ground if they are immobile for hours. I always had a perverse curiosity to actually see that happen but, happily, never got the chance to test it.

On the flipside of the year, an Alaskan deals with critters. And I'm not talking about the moose that walk up driveways or the bears that pad by. I mean the little critters that suck the fun out of the sunshine as well as the blood from your veins. I once wrote an article comparing them to Air Force jets: first come the big, slow-moving skeeters—the ones that over-winter as adults. They're the B-52's. They never get ya since you can swat 'em like flies. But watch out, next come the F-15's...with their targets locked on, they seldom miss. But the Fairbanksian isn't through yet. After the Eagles soar past, in come the Stealth Fighters. These you don't see. But you sure hear 'em, usually right in your ear just as you're about to drop off to sleep.

Yep, just when you've had enough of wearing six layers of clothing and want to welcome that almost 24-hour sun and 80 degree days...you have to wear jeans and a jeans shirt because I found Levi's to be the only thing that effectively thwarted the Skeeter Armies.

And try to shop the catalogs or online in Alaska. I dare ya. Do you ever notice the fine print in advertisements, speaking to shipping terms? Along the lines of '...except for Alaska and Hawaii' or '...offer not valid in Alaska and Hawaii'. These clauses translate to 'You're going to pay almost as much in shipping as you are for the product you want, my prettys....!'

For those who think the windfall of the permanent fund (my son received his first cheque before he was four months old) is a tidy little operation—it's not. It doesn't even hint at offsetting the daily costs of living in the American version of the Outback.

But what you get from all this is not frustration or misery, but a sort of strength that only heightens with each new challenge that nature presents. And as well, you connect with the elements in an armed detente sorta way.

Most importantly though, is the camaraderie that comes from sharing a land that never makes things very easy. More so than most states in which I've resided, the denizens of the 49th feel more like a vast family. You can hear it when an Alaskan takes a vacation beyond the state's borders: he or she is 'going outside'. If you're relatively new to the state, you're a 'cheechako' until you earn the respected moniker of 'sourdough'.

Governor Palin is a sourdough. And her husband, a native son, is even sourer. And, as in Nevada, a real burr in a sourdough Alaskan's side is the fact that most of the state is owned and operated by the federal government. (In point of fact, the government has its teeth in almost 85% of Nevada while almost 70% of the Land of the Midnight Sun is public land. To all you states without this widespread infusion of federal intrusion, please do not sit in judgment.) Well, Alaska, like Nevada, chafes constantly at the federal bit and is unrelenting in its determination to run its own state, without government interference. When that government interference comes in the form of aid, though, Alaskans are no different than any other state's residents.

So now come the accusations that Governor Palin was for the 'bridge to nowhere' before she was against it. Of course she was for it. (Until it became the poster child for excess earmarks, at which time she wisely tossed it back.) As an example: here in Nevada we have the wonderful and unique V & T Railroad. As is the case with so many historical things, the rails were torn up many decades ago and now we're busily trying to put them back, for so much more money than it cost to put them down originally it's not even funny (though it's certainly ironic). Now do you think if the federal government, the same one that runs 85% of our state, offers us many millions to restore our V & T...do you think our lawmakers would decline the funds? (If you do, I got a bridge to sell ya...)

And the governor of Alaska wants to open the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. No duh. It's in their state, they figure, and why shouldn't they benefit from it? Funny thing—I spent a short time in Juneau lobbying to keep ANWR pristine and untouched and now I look back on it, man, was I a cheechako. And a hypocrite. Nowadays, I have very little patience with out-of-staters that come to Nevada and tell us we must accept the country's nuclear waste at Yucca Mountain.

So it's all in how you look at things, I guess. But it helps if you paint a landscape behind the subject.

Speak Up For Equal Rights, Americans! Even When Your Party Forgets To Do So

Just a few passages to encapsulate the last few freaky days...

“After decades of pushing equal rights and treatment for women, the Left is backtracking. Suddenly motherhood – well, at least too much motherhood or too-complicated motherhood – is incompatible with executive responsibility. Fathers with little children or complex family issues – even some who cheated on their wives – have held office without having to justify their continuing careers. Yet women once again face a very different standard.

Who knew that beyond the glass ceiling feminists vowed to shatter there existed another barrier, imposed by feminists themselves? What happened to choice? To having it all? Have we had a paradigm shift since Aug. 29? What's to stop Governor Palin from doing it all?”

Why, the democrats!

They wish.

“A week ago, most Americans had never heard of Alaska Governor Sarah Palin. Now, following a Vice Presidential acceptance speech viewed live by more than 40 million people, Palin is viewed favorably by 58% of American voters....The new data also shows significant increases in the number who say McCain made the right choice and the number who say Palin is ready to be President. Generally, John McCain's choice of Palin earns slightly better reviews than Barack Obama's choice of Joe Biden.”

I guess all that invective spewed by Ed Schultz and all that condescension disgorged by Rachel Maddow were colossal wastes of time. Or perhaps not...

“51% of Americans believe that most reporters are trying to hurt Palin's campaign, a fact that may enhance her own ratings.”

Oh yeah! Fight back, Americans!

“Perhaps most stunning is the fact that Palin's favorable ratings are now a point higher than either man at the top of the Presidential tickets this year..."

Imagine that.

Despite all the efforts of the democrats to assure there would be no woman near the Oval Office in 2008, it just might happen. And if it does, the republicans are going to get to take the honors, not only for breaking the glass ceiling, but for shattering the concrete the dems have now erected there, as well.

And they're still pouring that concrete—and getting more and more wild-looking and desperate-sounding as they do it. The name of Palin elicits such facial contortions as to be entertaining.

But as my party goes after Governor Palin's audacity to run for vice president, with, omigosh!, children to be cared for at home, and omigosh!, a daughter who's pregnant but not married, and omigosh!, a husband who collected a DUI 20 years ago, and great balls of fire!, have you seen that shade of pink she was wearing?....

Well, it looks like voters are having none of it.

And the Contempt For Women Marches On

Without missing much more than a three-week beat, the democrats (my party! MY party!) segued from Senator Clinton to Governor Palin. I'm incredulous. I'm mortified.

I'm indignant. What the hell has happened to my eclectic party that welcomed all with open arms? My party that was synonymous with equal rights for women, with a woman's right to choose, with a woman's right to walk any path she chose?

Well, Governor Palin chose a belief in all life. I read that as one of the choices in the array of 'a woman's right to choose'. And Governor Palin chooses to advocate for the opening of the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge. And Governor Palin chooses to believe in creationism or some degree of it and might advocate to have it taught in schools. And Governor Palin chooses to wear her hair up quite often. And Governor Palin chose to run for public office—from mayor to governor to vice president.

I am in agreement with exactly one of her choices, the latter. As for the rest, I do not concur, though I occasionally wear my hair up, too. But I'm downright thankful for that latter choice. The fact that this strong, caring woman decided to devote her life to the pluses and vagaries of public life betters us all, especially us women.

As for all the things she believes: are these deal-breakers? Bush does not believe in a woman's right to choose...have we lost Roe vs Wade in these dark years? Bush has whined and begged to open ANWR for eight years...is it open? Bush would have creationism taught in the schools in an instant...did it happen in this last decade? And, who, might I fiercely inquire, has the right to judge her hairstyle, let alone have the supremely vile taste to put words to the judgment—in public, no less. (I won't even dignify with more than these words the rest of the garbage slung her way by salacious radio hosts and gleefully hateful callers--dealing with the colors she wears and the like. I've no doubt missed the dark treatises on the inappropriateness of her kids' names and the ugliness of the cars she drives. Omigosh.)

But as to those wedge issues...why has Bush lost all the battles on them? I wish I could say it was because we have a strong and caring Congress, filled with principled democrats, but...it's because vast numbers of Americans, large majorities in some cases, simply don't want these things. And another executive will get no further with these wedges, either. The only thing he or she would be able to manage is what Bush managed—to put another close-minded conservative on the highest court.

And that's major damage. But the way to deal with that is to oust the senators—like Dodd, Leahy, Levin, Lautenberg, Feingold—who voted for one of those conservative Bush picks, and load our Congress with democrats that give a flying ferkin about all of us.

And while we're at it, let's oust the pretenders that have taken over our party. You know who I mean...the ones that nowadays wallow in cesspools of superficial criticism, engage in blatant misogyny, and (I actually heard this from a democrat) tell women to forget their dreams of working for the public good and go home and care for their children.

Jeepers, I miss the democrats.