Friday, October 31, 2008

Theology and Politics

Perhaps this piece is mistitled.  It should probably be Christianity and Politics, for I was raised by Christian parents, in a Christian home, baptized at the age of 6 - having accepted Jesus The Christ as my Savior, and came to really understand the need to rely on Holy Spirit for guidance and the need for a one-on-one relationship with God at the ripe old age of 28.    

Oh -- what's that?  You ask why am I posting this little note in my Coming Out of the Closet blog?  So glad you asked.  Actually, I will post it here and in my Oh My God blog.  I had a time deciding where it should go and since I couldn't choose I decided to do the next best thing.

I broke bread today with a wonderful young woman whom I rarely see.   It was an intentional meeting, requiring advanced scheduling, but well worth it, at least for me.   For the 11 years I have known her she has remained steadfastly herself in all ways that matter.  She has been a blessing to my family.

As usual, when folks haven't seen each other for awhile, a lot of time is spent catching up once they sit across from each other.   Aside from the usual family stuff, there was a new twist, which prompted this writing.  My young friend is an Obama-like creature.  She was raised by her paler-nation mom without the presence of her darker-nation father.  (Note to do piece on fathers of the darker nation who play active roles in their children's upbringing, lest some think it is an anomaly.  Further, note to start with my own darker-nation dad.)    

My friend (hereinafter "Samantha" -- [though fictitious, it alleviates the need to keep writing my friend]) now finds herself in a dilemma.   The current political climate has removed the masks from folks with whom she not only has daily contact, but with whom she and her fine family worship.   She has learned that her 50/50 hands are not allowed to tie the 100/0 shoes of children at her church.  Her 25/75 child has been warned by a schoolmate that her parents must vote for the white man or we will be in big trouble.   Yes, from the mouth of a babe is reflected the influences of his environment.  From school?  Church?  Home?  Who knows?  The source is known only to him and God.

Speaking of God:   I wonder if folks -- of whatever race, creed, color, etc., pause in sufficient time to soak in the reality that He is the Creator of all, including us?  Okay -- everyone doesn't believe in my God.  Fine (actually not fine, for my heart yearns for all to believe; still God does not force Himself on any of us, and while I seek to introduce Him, will not force Him on anyone either).  For those non-believers, the question is:  By what means did you derive the color of your skin and eyes, and the texture of your hair?   Before conception did your mom or dad choose one with whom to copulate in such a way as to create the person that is you?  Or while you were in your mother's womb, did she check off a list of available options and -- voila! -- after an appropriate gestative period you popped out just as ordered?  Perhaps you were visited by the Creator who asked you to choose:  skin (chocolate, caramel, vanilla), eyes (blue, brown, green, gray, other), hair (coarse or fine, wavy or straight, slow-growing and short, fast-growing and Lady-Godiva-long), lips (wispy thin or ultra thick -- or somewhere inbetween), nose (skinny, pointed, flat, wide).  And let's not forget the really important stuff to choose:  feels rhythm on beats 1 and 3, or beats 2 and 4?  Short, tall, chunky, skinny, legs long or short?  Plays basketball or bassoon?  Football or foosball?  Tennis or baseball?  Swimming or soccer?   Alright -- enough of that.

Back to Samantha.  The poor thing is being reminded in all kinds of subtle, and some not so subtle ways, that she is not 100%.  As a management type she's stuck in the middle, dealing with superiors and subordinates.  Hostility on both fronts.  Can you imagine such a sandwich?  A Samantha sandwich is not a wonderful snack.  It's kind of like a peanut butter sandwich.  You know how it is, when you put a glob of Peter Pan in the middle of a slice of multi-grain bread, top it with another slice and then mash it together?  It spreads out to the breads' edges, and the more pressure applied during the mashing process, the more the peanut butter tends to ooze out -- beyond the edges.    The resulting sandwich is just not as pleasing to look at -- or to eat.  That's what happens when folks are threatened; the pressure breaches their protective barriers, threatening the loss of their energy and substance, and they ooze, they leak.

The tragedy of this unmerited negative attention is that Samantha, like many regardless of origin, is a valuable commodity who contributes to the positive vitality of the organization for which she works, and more importantly, her immediate family, including her 100/0 mom.  When any of us is put upon in this fashion, we all lose.  Why should Samantha be punished for an outcome of which she has no control???  Why should anyone -- regardless of race, creed or national origin be irresponsibly held in contempt for not having control over those characteristics, just as you -- or you -- or you -- or I have no such control???

In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.  He spoke everything into being.  And God saw all that He had made.  And it was very Good.   (Genesis 2:31, The Holy Bible, NIV.)  And in case one cannot relate to the Creation, please state any and all processes performed by you to make you the human being you are, including without limitation, the time of your conception, the man and woman who came together in such a way as to cause that conception, the color of your skin, shape of your nose, and texture of your hair, etc.  And finally, if still not convinced, consider this:

One day a group of scientists decided that they could do anything God could do, and confronted God with their foolishness, challenging Him.  So God reached down, scooped up dust from the ground, formed it into a man, and blew into him the breath of life, and man became a living soul.  The scientists were unimpressed.  They knew creating a man was a cakewalk.  One of the scientists bent down, and just as he was about to gather some dust, God stopped him and said:  Wait a minute; get your own dust.

So what does this have to do with politics?  As usual, I'm glad you asked.   When we free ourselves of narrow, short-sighted mindsets and realize that the people who are sufficiently intelligent, educated, qualified and positively motivated to fill a position -- public or private, political or otherwise -- for the betterment of the organization or government -- local, state or national -- come in all colors, shapes and sizes, and are not limited to people who look like you -- or you -- or you -- or me, we will all be better for it.   And a question to those who claim to be believers:  How can you say you love God, whom you have never seen, but hate any of His creation -- including Samantha -- and me?  

The theology of politics:  God allows stuff to happen.  He even allows people of mixed heritage to aspire to unite a nation of people whose origins (except for the disenfranchised natives) are rooted in other parts of the world.  He allows people who don't look like you to try, just as He allows people who look like you to try.  When He created you He did not breath into you a breath of privilege -- or of prohibition.  Those are traditions conceived by our foreparents.  It is the choice of each of us to continue those traditions of privilege and prohibition -- or let them die. 


Wednesday, October 29, 2008

A Woman's Place

Alright, brace yourselves -- especially if you're a woman.   

Years ago when my "baby" was a baby, during the early years of the National Organization for Woman (N.O.W. was 9 years old the year my babe was born), I was a furious and feisty young woman, understanding that my fight for equality was not as a woman, but just as a person.    I realized in 1975, that there lingered in this country a mindset that folks of the darker nation in all ways that matter, were not as good as folks of the paler nation.  I actually had the unmitigated gall, as my mom would say, to think that I was just as good, as smart, as capable, as anyone else. (On more than one occasion I've been called an uppity you-know-what.  But that's for another time.)  I spent a lot of time trying to prove that.  What a waste.  

My attitude about basic equality has not changed.  There is a twist, however.  Equality of humanity does not translate to equality in function.  The fact is that in terms of function, for lack of a better word, men and women are not equal.

Men and women have different types of strengths.  They have different roles to play.   Men and women were created to complement one another, not compete against each other.  From the perspectives of mentality, ambition and intelligence, gender does not control any one's potential.   However, just because of the different physicalities of men and women, there is a weaker sex in terms of physical strength.  (Please don't bother countering with female body-builders and related anomalies.  The effects of body-building cause physiological and hormonal abnormalities in women [no criticism, just fact].)   Just as women were not built to exert physical strength, men were not made to carry children.  

I have the pleasure of knowing some really smart women.  They work as engineers, lawyers, preachers, doctors, educators, linguists, administrators and wordsmiths, many of whom are mothers.   I say "they work as" because it is what they do, not who they are.   But what they do requires a great deal of mental preparedness.   There are also those, like my soon-to-be nonagenarian mother who were denied the opportunity to pursue a college degree, but even in her advanced years is still bright enough to outshine the bulbs in many a chandelier.  

Where am I going with this?  Well, I'm glad you asked.   By now we all know there is a female vice-presidential candidate this year.  I have written of her in ways that are far from flattering.  While I stand by what I wrote, enmeshed in those writings are the dregs of my own personal experiences with women of whom the VP Candidate reminds me, which are best left in the past.  This writing is different.  It is not about her obvious unsuitability for the office of vice-president based on her incompetence or other displeasing attributes; rather, it is because she is the mother of an infant and a young child.  

So???  What's wrong with that???  Again, I'm glad you asked.   Woman are uniquely built to conceive and bear children, and nurture them from DAY ONE (sometimes that phrase is apropos).   I firmly believe that babies get to know their mothers in the womb.  In fact, a good friend relayed to me that her son actually remembers being in the womb, and of the trauma his mom experienced during her pregnancy.  Another friend says he actually remembers being born.  Who among us can refute those accountings?  

The first years of a child's life are vital.   And more than anyone else, children rely on their mothers.   The one child I bore was blessed to be full-term and without any serious defect, condition or special need.  Aside from being on a three-hour feeding schedule for the first month or so, there were no serious problems -- unless you want to count:  1) putting my face on her back to make sure she was breathing; 2) recording her grunts while sleeping and driving across town the next day for her pediatrician to hear the play-back; or 3) weighing her everyday, hoping she gained an ounce.

How can a mother be all she can be for her infant child (not for herself, but for her child), if she willingly accepts a challenge that will keep them apart for days or weeks at a time?   One scene is indelibly imprinted in my memory:  Sarah Palin walks down the steps after her plane has landed in Alaska.  A young woman (one of her daughters, perhaps?) stands at the foot of the stairway, holding the few-months-old infant.  Palin steps onto the tarmac, plants a peck on the infant's cheek, and breezes past as if she had just greeted the child of a stranger.   Not a judgment, but a question:  Did she miss her child -- just a little?  Was there an urge to pluck the child out of the other's arms and just hold him -- just because?  I shudder to think of the answers that were demonstrated by her actions. 

Folks are asking what is the big deal that Palin has an infant child.   Taking nothing away from her ability (or one's perception thereof), that is a valid question.  It is a very big deal.  Children need their mothers.  And the younger they are, the greater the need.   And gender inequality aside, children need their fathers, too; the younger they are, the greater the need.   I must digress long enough to tell you of a conversation I had recently with a lawyer I have known for about 14 years.   We spoke of the toll a law practice can take on one's family because of the demands for long hours.  This man relayed to me that when his son and daughter were in their childhood years, he made it a point to put in a normal work day so that he would have time with them after their school day and participate in their activities just as other parents do.   In other words, the fact that he was a lawyer did not translate to putting in 60-70 hour workweeks and his loss of a "normal" relationship with his family.

How can Palin leave her infant child?  Perhaps it's because she has so many children.  Having only one, I asked a mother of multiples, who said this:  I love all my children, each and every one.  When any of us are apart I miss them, each of them.   Neither can take the place of another. 

If Palin's children were older this would not be a point of discussion.   Women often put off a career until their children are older.  Some women put off children until they have had a successful career.  Most, unfortunately, have to juggle both children and career.  But they don't embark on a campaign become vice president of the United States while doing so.

My babe is now very much grown up and on her own.  We live in the same city -- perhaps 20 minutes apart (less or more as we are at the mercy of Houston thoroughfares and drivers).    Even with our close proximity there are times when I haven't seen her sweet face, that I will drive to the school where she generally puts in a double-digit-hour day, sign the visitor's log in the main office, walk the 200 or so feet down the hall to her office, and sit in the reception area.  While I wait there is a steady stream of students.  She really needs revolving doors.  Phones are ringing.  Walkie-talkie type radios are sputtering.   At some point there is a lull.   She comes out of her office a stops.  Mom!  She smiles.   Come on in.  I didn't know you were here.  To whomever is present she says, [Name], this is my mom.  She's still smiling.   We go to her office.   We both get a good, doubled-handed rocking-left-and-right hug.  We chat for maybe a minute before the phone rings or the walkie-talkie-type radio sputters.   I know I need to leave so she can get back to her demanding day.  We get another hug -- the same double-handed rocking-left-and-right type we've done for as long as I can remember, ending with a little circular back rub and a couple of cheek smacks.  Standing back at arm's length she's still smiling.  All is well.    

I've done a few things in my life -- nothing major -- nothing like being a mayor or a governor or a vice presidential candidate.  (Actually I wanted to become involved in local politics, but knew folks would be more interested in when I bounced my first check and lost my virginity than my ideas to improve our neighborhood, city or government.)  But there is nothing I have done that is more important than establishing a bond with my daughter.  Despite my on-the-job motherhood training she turned out okay (thank God for her dad) -- and she still smiles when she sees me.   

Monday, October 27, 2008

Getting Ready for What?

In 2004, at the end of the first week of January, Houston was all abuzz.  Actually the busy-bee syndrome started long before then, because of Superbowl 38.  Yes, Superbowl 38 was to be held in Houston.  And a quarter million people were expected to descend on the City and party hard just because some men were going to congregate at Reliant Stadium and chase a funny shaped ball up and down the field to score points.  And a group of those men would be the winners.  They would be number one.  And there would be a great celebration for them, with champagne flowing and whooping in their locker room and dancing in the streets of their home city and even a parade.  And some place else there would be sorrow.  Grown men would cry and mope about perhaps for days or even weeks.  

I wondered how it was that a city of millions would get ready for that one big event.  There were even other events leading up to them Big One.  Some of those events were for worthwhile causes and some were just for a good time.   There were plans to build 38 Habitat Homes, collecting books and sports equipment for needy children and putting dollars in soup pots at the end of our worship services to feed the hungry.  All sorts of things were going on – some purposeful and some just for fun.  Children of all ages – from 0 to 99 – converged on the George R. Brown Convention Center for the NFL experience.  
 
I wonder how it was that an entire city could gear up for one supposedly spectacular day. What are we doing for the rest of our lives?  There was a yucky moldy something on the roof of our baseball stadium – and it was important that the roof of Minute Maid Park – the baseball stadium be cleaned by Superbowl.   It was important that our light rail system be running before Superbowl.   It was important that our streets be repaired and resurfaced for Superbowl.  
What happened after Superbowl?   We went back to our everyday, mundane, empty lives.  What happened?  Is the most important event in our lives – in the life of this city – Superbowl?  Should it not matter how our city looks from one day to the next?  Should our infrastructure not be maintained as a matter of course? 

And I wonder what happens we Jesus comes back?  The difference between Jesus’s coming and Superbowl is that we knew, well in advance, when Superbowl would take place.  We knew the exact day, the exact time and the exact location.  And we prepared for it in grand fashion.  But when Jesus comes back, we know not the day nor the hour.  

We who believe in Him and the Bible know that He is coming back.  And so it is important to us to live everyday of our lives as if He is coming back now.  So my question to you is:  Are you living a life so that when Jesus comes He will know who you are?  Will He recognize you as one of His children?  Can you look forward to the day when Jesus is coming  -- with anticipation – or with dread?  

Sometimes in my everyday life, I am confronted with making a decision – it doesn’t matter if it’s a business effort or a personal thing – but sometimes I ask myself when I’m on the verge of doing something – what if Jesus comes?  If Jesus came at this very minute, would He look at what I’m doing and turn away?  

Climbed Any Mountains Lately? (TWIM)

(Written for students when I taught music appreciation classes at a Houston elementary school)

I looked so high above, as far as I could see

Was a mountain so high it overpowered me

It's peak not seen by my naked eye

I said to myself, "it must touch the sky!"


It was so wide, as wide can be

To go around would take eternity

Here this mountain stood; in my way it would be

For I could not go forward 'til I put it behind me.


"I've got to do this," to myself I said,

And started to climb, my heart filled with dread.

For I knew deep within I didn't have a chance

Of getting to the top; I could tell at a glance.


But just a short distance away, I saw a little ridge

I could reach in only a day.

"I'll go just that far, then stop there and see

Just how much closer to the top I will be."


So away I went, looking forward to see

Only as far as my first destiny.

I reached the little ridge, sat down with a sigh

And looked ahead to see where my next stop might lie.


There it is; I can see it well

I'll make that one -- easily! I could very well tell.

So this is the way it will have to be

To reach the top, I now clearly see.


For the goals we set, difficult as we may believe

If we take one step at a time, will be possible to achieve.

Sunday, October 26, 2008

Illegal Immigration Pt I

This is a difficult issue.  However, being a charter member of the KISS (keep it simple s_____) club,  this "Part I" will be addressed in that manner.

Basically, there are two types of illegal immigrants:  1) those who willingly come here; and 2) those who are not given a choice.  For those who are not given a choice, there are probably two types:  1) the children of willing adults; and 2) those who were forced into some kind of slave labor (prostitution, perhaps?).   

For those who came here willingly, they committed a crime, pure and simple.   What to do with them, however, is not simple.  And this Part I will discuss only one aspect of the shades of gray they have made by their illegal entry into this country.

First, the children.   Many of them are adults now and are caught in a particular kind of limbo. Totally Americanized, they are often fluent in English, devoid of a telltale accent, and have received the benefit of a free public education.  They can get a "T" number to pay income taxes, but they cannot get social security cards or driver licenses.   And so, getting insurance and doing a number of things responsible adults normally do, are next to impossible.

When I officed in the building next door to the College of Biblical Studies, one of my neighbors was a wonderful young man who happens to live such an existence.  He is a married, ambitious, hard-working father.   When he tried to "legitimize" himself, he was told he had to return to Mexico and re-enter the country properly.  Having been brought here at the age of six, he knows nothing of his home country.  Tried as I might, I could not find any information that would help him in any way.  That was truly a disappointment.  For people like this young man, who is now living a life in the shadows because of the crimes of his parents, there should be some way for him to gain the right to live here without going back to a country of which he knows little.   

Saturday, October 25, 2008

Nature of the Man

I want to relay the text of an e-mail sent to me recently and which I found at leisha camden's blog spot.  I will comment briefly thereafter.  Here it is:

Amazing: Obama Helped Stranded Stranger 20 Years Ago 


The Norwegian newspaper VG has reported a truly amazing story about a newly-wed trying to get to Norway to be with her husband, and the stranger who helped pay an unexpected luggage surcharge. The blog "Leisha's Random Thoughts" has translated the story.

It was 1988, and Mary Andersen was at the Miami airport checking in for a long flight to Norway to be with her husband when the airline representative informed her that she wouldn't be able to check her luggage without paying a 100 surcharge:

When it was finally Mary's turn, she got the message that would crush her bubbling feeling of happiness.

-You'll have to pay a 103 dollar surcharge if you want to bring both those suitcases to Norway, the man behind the counter said.

Mary had no money. Her new husband had travelled ahead of her to Norway, and she had no one else to call.

-I was completely desperate and tried to think which of my things I could manage without. But I had already made such a careful selection of my most prized possessions, says Mary.

As tears streamed down her face, she heard a "gentle and friendly voice" behind her saying, "That's okay, I'll pay for her."
Mary turned around to see a tall man whom she had never seen before.

-He had a gentle and kind voice that was still firm and decisive. The first thing I thought was, Who is this man?

Although this happened 20 years ago, Mary still remembers the authority that radiated from the man.

-He was nicely dressed, fashionably dressed with brown leather shoes, a cotton shirt open at the throat and khaki pants, says Mary.

She was thrilled to be able to bring both her suitcases to Norway and assured the stranger that he would get his money back. The man wrote his name and address on a piece of paper that he gave to Mary. She thanked him repeatedly. When she finally walked off towards the security checkpoint, he waved goodbye to her.

Who was the man?

Barack Obama.

Twenty years later, she is thrilled that the friendly stranger at the airport may be the next President and has voted for him already and donated 100 dollars to his campaign:

-He was my knight in shining armor, says Mary, smiling.

She paid the 103 dollars back to Obama the day after she arrived in Norway. At that time he had just finished his job as a poorly paid community worker* in Chicago, and had started his law studies at prestigious Harvard university.

Mary even convinced her parents to vote for him:

In the spring of 2006 Mary's parents had heard that Obama was considering a run for president, but that he had still not decided. They chose to write a letter in which they told him that he would receive their votes. At the same time, they thanked Obama for helping their daughter 18 years earlier.

And Obama replied:

In a letter to Mary's parents dated May 4th, 2006 and stamped 'United States Senate, Washington DC', Barack Obama writes:

'I want to thank you for the lovely things you wrote about me and for reminding me of what happened at Miami airport. I'm happy I could help back then, and I'm delighted to hear that your daughter is happy in Norway. Please send her my best wishes. Sincerely, Barack Obama, United States Senator'.

The parents sent the letter on to Mary.

Mary says that when her friends and associates talk about the election, especially when race relations is the heated subject, she relates the story of the k ind man who helped out a stranger-in-need over twenty years ago, years before he had even thought about running for high office.

Truly a wonderful story, and something that needs to be passed along in the maelstorm of fear-and-smear politics we are being subjected to right now.

UPDATE: Thanks for the recommends, folks! Also, remember this was 1988, when 100 dollars was quite a bit of money, compared to today's value.

By the way, this would be the perfect antidote to the Smear E-mails going around. If anyone has a good long email chain list, shoot it out, and let it be passed along.


My comment:

Technically, she wasn't stranded.  Be that as it may, she needed help.  And I don't it at all amazing that my candidate readily came to her aid.   My gut tells me that it reflects the true nature of Barack Obama.  Am I Obama-struck?  Absolutely not!  There are several issues on which Mr. Obama and I are diametrically opposed.  The reality is that if one were to cherry-pick, there would never be a viable candidate for whom one could vote.    The key is to find balance.  

Friday, October 24, 2008

Preface to The Women Inside Me

Often we try to hide some parts of ourselves; we try to pretend that we never have dark, ugly thoughts, that we never wish ill of anyone, that we never think selfishly, that we never lust in the flesh (as some of our Biblically grounded folks might say), that we never dream or fantasize. All the while we show compassion and selfless caring for others, as well as display signs of childish whimsy and frivolity.  We pretend that we are something other than the frail and sometimes failing women and men we really are.  We refuse to acknowledge that packed into our one temple are attitudes and mindsets of black, white, and a plethora of shades of gray. 

In future blogs those titles ending with (TWIM) are part of this series.
A.C.H.R.S.H.K.

Truly Sick

My morning started with a few hours of continuing education classes (thankfully online) in anticipation of renewing my multiple lines insurance license.  What made it those otherwise boring hours was the company of an insurance associated who stopped by for assistance with tweaking his laptop.  Despite Michael being a man of the paler nation and me being a woman of the darker nation, we are kindred spirits in all the ways that matter except one.   (For the purpose of this discussion, that one very major difference will not be addressed.)

Michael and I are both truly sick of atmosphere created by the current politics in this country.  And no, we don't agree on everything, but we respect each other's right to have an opinion.  We were both saddened by the young woman's accusation of a black man having beaten and robbed her, leaving her with a backward "B" carved on her face because she is a McCain/Palin supporter.  From the moment I saw the news clip I knew in the very core of my being that the woman's claims were bogus.   A day did not pass before my thoughts were validated.   We both agreed that this election cycle has exacerbated the polarization of our country.  

How truly sick to make accusations.    In the not too distant past, in some states, mobs would have taken to the streets, accosted the first available black male and punished him for the purported crime in ways that would curdle the blood of even the strongest of us.   I cannot help but speculate what she envisioned would happen had her fallacy been accepted by law enforcement as the truth.  Perhaps this woman was not aware that the last lynching just occurred a mere 27 years ago in Mobile, Alabama.  Then again, maybe she was.

Monday, October 20, 2008

Conservative is Not a Bad Word -- but neither is Liberal

Sometime ago, our Sunday School class was privileged to have Steve Rader as a teacher for a 10-week course about balance.  Steve presents himself as a cool, even-tempered man, settled and at peace.  I cannot help but believe this is no facade.   Perhaps when I grow up I will be so.  During our Sunday School time Steve shared with us Biblical texts relative to balance in various aspects of daily living.   Many times I was convicted, but more importantly inspired to clean up my life's clutter (stuff that keeps one and balance apart).  So what does balance have to do with the turmoil of our day?  I'm glad you asked.

Have you noticed how extreme political positions are these days???  Democrats bashing Republicans.  Republicans bashing Democrats.    Conservatives bashing liberals.  Liberals bashing Conservatives.   I find it hard to believe that most folks identify with one party or the other to the point that they become card-carrying members.  Is it possible that one group is all right and the other all wrong?   I don't think so.  

The problem with party politics is that the lumping of a large group of people together who share common desires and opinions on many, but not all  issues.  A cursory review of the GOP platform with regard to the positions of five of its pre-convention presidential candidates, shows that there was agreement on 1) the war in Iraq, 2) the war in Pakistan, and 3) the Patriot Act.   Other issues -- including several aspects of aborton, embryonic stem cell research and gun control, did not have undivided support.  On the other side of the aisle (you know, the one that everyone claims they want to reach across), folks are at odds with various planks in the Democratic platform as well. 

My contention is this:   For any one to subscribe to one party's platform or the other short-changes oneself.  Do anyone of us agree with the unanimous will of any group???  Unless we're talking about followers of Jesus, I cannot see how that is possible.  (Come to think of it, we Christians even mess that up by putting our own opinions and proclivities in the way of His teachings.)

Several months ago, on a time-wasting road trip to Victoria (Texas), I was told that my vote is wasted because I do not vote along party lines.   The guy told me that the "party" was the only vehicle by which things get done.  If that is true, why is it so important to reach across the aisle?

My point is this:   The party who has control gets to push its agenda, which may or may not be good for the whole of the country.   Also, neither party is all good, and neither is all bad (although personally I think that both stink [insert other "s" word here if you'd like].   Think about it:  if you mark your ballot for the entire Democratic party, you will be voting for folks other than Barack Obama.  Do you really think Congressional District 18 needs two more years of Shelia Jackson Lee???  I hardly think so.  It galls me that she is so smugly secure in her position and unlike other Congressional Representatives (for instance, former Congressman Kenneth Bentsen and current Congressment Al Green), her office personnel spend time complaining about the number of her constituents rather than listening to the concerns of those constituents.  If folks weren't more interested in when I lost my virginity or bounced my first check, I would run against her.   And how about Harold Dutton (Texas House of Representatives, District 141)?  He has no opposition.   There's something wrong with that.  Even though he cannot be defeated I don't plan on dialing him up on the ballot.  

On a good note, voting a straight Democratic ticket, assuming the Dems will prevail, would rid our courts of some folks who, like Jackson-Lee and Dutton, ought to find some other pursuit, like other former judges who now have lucrative mediation practices.  For instance, it would be nice to never have to start a motion with "To the Honorable Sharolyn Wood" -- or "To the Honorable Joseph 'Tad' Halbach"-- or "To the Honorable Mark Davidson" ever again.  On the other hand, that is not an endorsement of their opponents, or any of the other candidates who have jumped on the Democratic bandwagon, hoping to ride on to victory with the Democratic presidential candidate.  (This does not include Jaclanel Moore McFarland, to whom much respect is due.  A vote for her would not be wasted.)  

Of course for every plus there is a minus -- for balance.  The downside of voting a straight Democratic ticket is, if the Dems prevail, we would lose some really good, competent folks who wear the Republican label, especially judges.   There really ought to be a better way to elect judges.  I digress (as usual).

So, my question to you is this:  will you take the easy way out and vote a straight ticket?  Or will you weigh the good and not-good of each candidate to determine which one you, not "the party" -- but the one you believe will be best for the job?  

I urge you to strive for balance.

Sunday, October 19, 2008

What -- and how much -- does Colin Powell owe the Republican Party?

I'm watching Pat Buchanan on Hardball with Chris Matthews, and Buchanan is whining and showing his true self.   Can someone toss him a box of tissues?   Earlier today Colin Powell endorsed Barack Obama for president.  From his interview on Meet the Press, Powell spoke of:
  • the conduct of McCain's campaign (focus on inconsequential issues and attacks)
  • the choice of Sarah Palin to be McCain's running mate and her obvious unreadiness for the office of Vice President of the United States (a question of McCain's judgment), while Obama chose one, Biden, who is ready on day one
  • the need for a new generation of leaders with new ideas and perspectives, who reaches out to others and practices inclusion 
  • supporters of the Republican ticket making disparaging comments about its opposition
  • the Republic party's ever narrowing approach to the campaign
  • the Republic party's double offense:  trying to convince the public that Mr. Obama is a Muslim, simultaneously implying that being Muslim casts a dark shadow anyone who is of the Muslim faith.
Evidently Buchanan was not listening last month when Powell said that he is an American first and foremost.  He went on to say that he while he had not decided on which candidate he would support, that he would not vote for Obama because Obama is Black.

There was no need to read between the lines when Buchanan spoke on a special edition of Hardball on MSNBC.  After citing all of what the Republican party had done for Powell - promoting and elevating him above many other qualified individuals (as if Powell was not qualified for and did not earn his promotions and appointments, but was given them), in essence he said that Powell is endorsing Obama because he is Black.  

Powell has served his country for 40 years.  He no longer answers to a Commander-in-Chief.  He has a right to exercise his constitutional rights now in a way he never could as a military officer or cabinet member.   Or is he expected to continue to accommodate the desires and whims of those with whom he does not agree -- just because?  If so, because what?  

After giving 40 years of his life in the service of his country, what does Powell owe the Republican party?

Thursday, October 16, 2008

Tap Dancin' Like Sammy Davis, Jr.

I'm letting off steam on second hand ("hearsay" in the legal realm) talk. Did Joe The Plumber really say that he asked Obama a question and Mr. Obama tap-danced around it like Sammy Davis, Jr.? While I really get frustrated when folks don't answer questions (assuming they were well-phrased and an answer is possible -- even an "I don't know") -- even, especially my candidate of choice, why must Obama be described as having tap danced almost as good as Sammy Davis, Jr.??? Why couldn't Joe have said Fred Astair???

I am particularly miffed by black stereotypes. One can jump through all the hoops -- high school graduation (at or near the top of class, of course), college, graduate school, professional licenses, certifications, employment in demanding positions (sadly, still anomalies but admittedly not as sparse as in the past), an occasional promotion, blah, blah, blah, and the only way Joe is capable of analogizing the failure of:
  • a graduate of Columbia and Harvard Universities (magna cum laude)
  • a former professor at a top-ranked U.S. university (having taught, of all things, the very Constitution which he will swear to preserve, protect and defend)
  • a presidential candidate whose political campaign runs like a well-oiled machine
  • a man whose IQ, through logical deduction, most likely qualifies him to be a member of MENSA (perhaps Joe is unfamiliar with this organization)

to straightforwardly answer Joe's question, instead tap danced almost as good as Sammy Davis, Jr.???

How pathetically limiting one's nano-sized mind can be. And how very unfortunate this country is, to have had such types in authority. We have all suffered for it.

Perhaps there is time to undo the damage that has been done. Perhaps one day, more small-minded folks will learn to look beyond what they see and realize that every book should be opened and read for content. (It is assumed, of course that Joe is literate. Please see previous post: Why Johnny Can't Read). That's how we learned about Palin the Pathetic. She's not hard on the eye. And I really like some of those cute little outfits -- especially the jackets. On the other hand, when she opens her mouth, out comes the most incomprehensible driveler. Sooooo, she might be of the more desirable hue, one of the paler nation and all (if you have not read a previous post, for more about the paler nation I commend to you The Emperor of Ocean Park, authored by Stephen Carter), but my goodness, she talks like a movie's sterotypical dumb broad. The scary part about that is, unlike Obama tap dancin' around a question, Palin opens her mouth and all sorts of doggy doo, bird droppings -- I hope you get the point -- gush forth under the pressure of a fireman's water hose. As Colin Powell said on "Meet the Press" this morning -- we have read that Palin book for seven weeks, and it's not worth the paper on which it is printed.

Give me a tap dancin' Obama any day.

Oops -- I almost forgot to answer the question: Why couldn't Joe have said Fred Astair??? Because Joe is stuck on black. To people like Joe, the value of the darker nation rarely extends beyond entertainment. No offense to the late Mr. Davis and those he left behind.

John Lewis Should Not be Renounced, Denounced or Whatever

The only authentic African American of whom I know, is the son of an African man and an American woman.   While he is lumped in with all the rest of us members of the darker nation (if this term is unfamiliar to you, I commend you to Stephen Carter's The Emperor of Ocean Park), the timing of Barack Obama's birth excluded him from the experiences of folks like John Lewis.  

The problem is that John Lewis types exist.  The JLs of this country remind us of a time when folks were less accepting, less loving.    So many think they should take the superficial freedoms they have won and go away quietly, sink into a Lazyboy, channel surf and sip beer, watching endless hours of television -- guys chasing funny-shaped balls in open fields -- taunting, maiming, crippling, killing each other while audiences of sufficient number to populate small towns pay much too much money for the thrill of it all, and even more money for unhealthy food and drink --  until they die.

There are folks who think we should not remember the days when Americans of the darker nation, many times joined by Americans of the paler nation, subjected their bodies to billy clubs, well-trained dogs, fire hoses, jail cells smaller than my bathroom, nooses, and even the grave, to achieve what most Americans take for granted now.  And while the notorious acts of that era are no longer commonplace, let us not be disillusioned.   In many ways there is still a lack of acceptance. There is still a lack of love.   We see it and hear it all the time.  

Yes, the "N" word may be socially unacceptable, politically incorrect, or whatever.  But what about EXOTIC -- UNQUALIFIED -- OFF WITH HIS HEAD -- HE'S AN ARAB -- KILL HIM.   These words and phrases, no doubt uttered with venom and spittle spraying those nearby, reflect hatred that can be felt even through television.   I know, because I felt them.  And I felt the mob-type murmurings that followed -- felt them in my knotted gut.  And then I remembered what I saw on television decades ago.   Bodies plastered against buildings by the force of water from a fire hose.  Dogs barking and biting at flailing limbs.  Charred bodies, now faceless, hanging from trees that on any other day might be refuge from the sun.  Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., lying in a pool of his own blood on a balcony of the Lorraine Motel.     These images, once viewed by this writer, who knows that but for the grace of God, could have been a subject of the photographer rather than a beneficiary of suffering, cannot be forgotten.  

A German-born Jewish American (too many labels for me, but necessary to make my point) works at a place I visit often.   During our last encounter I could tell that he was not having a good day.   It turns out that for the first time, he saw on television the night before, footage from the civil rights struggle of the 60s.   He expressed shock, dismay and disgust, having had no idea of what happened during that time, and confessed that it was nothing that he was exposed to in school; and because those events happened during his lifetime, they were in some ways even worse for him than the Holocaust.  We both agreed that neither of those events should be forgotten.  Their lessons are far too important for either to be glossed over.  If our kids can watch the gore and violence produced by television and movies, and can play video games fraught with purposeless violence, why must they be shielded from the reality of the 60s?

So I ask you, does John Lewis not have a right to remind us of the dangers of inflammatory speech?  Is it an okay thing for a speaker to evoke such language, but not okay to speak of the dangers of one doing so?  No.  Should we forget the struggles and sacrifices of the 60s?  No.  Should the JLs of the world be required to act as if their experiences are meaningless and forgotten?  No.  Should we all make sure those events are not repeated, even if it means dredging them up again to remind us?  What do you say?  I say YES, and that is my final answer.

Rather than renounce John Lewis, we should thank him for reminding us of the oppressive barbarism of the 60s and those who fought to overcome it.  


Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Why Johnny Can't Read (no offense to dedicated teachers)

Having been dunked in her gene pool, I am very much my mother's child.    She gave me a lot of stuff, much of which I would like to have foregone.  I'll skip the gory details.  There is one thing I'm glad she did give me:  a voracious appetite for reading, and a appreciation for words.

While other kids grew up playing card  games, dominoes and checkers (okay folks, chess was not popular in my neighborhood), Scrabble was the game in my house.  And reading was the thing to do in that downtime between after school and before dinner.   My daddy (not dad, and definitely not father) gave me an olive drab folding cot (I guess it was an old military issue, which is strange because he was not allowed to serve) and I would lay on that cot in the back yard, just feet from the kitchen door, and read a book while my mama (it was not until years later that she became mom and is now the boss) cooked the kind of meal I rarely get these days, unless, of course, I go to her house for dinner.  

Anyway, by the time I started kindergarten I was reading.  In first grade we were divided into groups -- one, two and three.  I was in group one.  Something about that, even back then,  made me feel funny about that numbering of the groups thing.  It became painfully clear that the group one folks were, for lack of a better term, smarter than the group two peeps, and the group three students lagged behind group two.  I was called on to read so much that it became an assignment I dreaded.   My teacher spent more time with the group one students than any other.  I felt guilty.  I knew I didn't need her attention as much as others did. It didn't seem fair then, and 48 years later it still fails the smell test.  Later, in junior high (middle) school, we were placed in sections by alphabet.  Sections A, B, and C were the so-called "accelerated" sections. Everyone else fell in behind them.    Different label -- same old stigma.

Just a couple of days ago I was speaking to a very good friend, and while I don't remember how we got on the subject, we logically deduced that there are people who were set on a path more likely to result in failure in their early years by the stigma of being a group three student.  One might say it is a joy to work with students who are not only eager to learn, but quick as well.  On the other hand, those students are not the ones in need of more attention.  The ones who need more attention and go without, tend to become discouraged and many times just fall off the grid.  The inability to get it  breeds resentment, callousness, bitterness and carelessness.   Behavior becomes erratic and unacceptable.  Students get into trouble.  School becomes boring.  Instead of a worthwhile pursuit, an education becomes a dream deferred, then an impossible one.  
And what happens to a dream deferred?  It may fester like a sore.  It may dry up like a raisin in the sun.  It may swell until it explodes.  It may stink.  Or it may become the big chip on Johnny's shoulder.  Or just a heavy load.   And while Johnny carries his festering, dried-up, swollen, smelly, heavy load, he looks at pictures on menus and on grocery store labels to know what he will feed his body.  He pretends to read the newspaper on the bus, and sometimes doesn't realize it's upside down.  He cashes his checks and pays an exorbitant fee at the local check cashing place, sends payments via Western Union or buys money orders that may or may not be honored.  Because he cannot read, he can barely write his name, and he cannot open a checking account.   He doesn't send his mom a card on mother's day or his sweetie a love note.  His opportunities for work are limited, and when they run out he gets desperate.  

So what does Johnny do now?  Johnny, the child-victim, is all grown up.   No longer the victim, he is now the predator.

Sunday, October 12, 2008

Remember that song? God is Watching Us?

He's not just watching -- He's listening.  He sees all we do and say.  He knows our thoughts, our minds, our hearts.  Alright, many of us don't believe.  But for those of us who do, perhaps we forget . . . 

Saturday, October 11, 2008

Palin the Putrid -- Part II (The Masquerade is Over)

Well, well, well. I betcha folks thought she would be completely exonerated. Ha! Ya' know, I really like using folksy terms like betcha (something that would get me a really hard look from my mom when I was a kid) and get away with it.

Speakin' of gittin' away with stuff, now here we have the putrid, pathetic Sarah Palin, whinin' 'bout what other folks got away with, tryin' to justify her wrongful acts. How absolutely juvenle. That argument never got me anywhere with my mom.

Palin has been outed to be the vile, evil and corrupt person she is. Rather than tuck her tail, go back to Alaska and get her house in order, she will continue to slither around the lower 48, trying to encite folks to commit God only knows what atrocities against my candidate while she continues to misquote him and take out of context my candidate's statements. Hopefully for some the light will come on, and they can sing her a verse from an old song - I'm Afraid the Masquerade is Over (paraphrased and amplified here for fear of infringing on the rights of Herb Magidson, Allie Wruble and/or whomever):

Even though you look like the same Sarah, and you're a lot like the same old Sarah, our hearts, heads and minds say "oh no -- you're not the same." We're afraid your facade is down, the mask is off, and we know you're not the good old gal we thought you were. In fact, you're just like any other lying, cheating, power-hungry, corrupt politician. The masquerade is over.

Friday, October 10, 2008

There is but one Heaven

What do we say in response to a sneeze? God bless you.



How does a politician end a speech? God bless you. And God bless the United States of America.



And what about the man's expletive that aired on one of the major televisions stations -- live -- as an airplane flew into the second World Trade Center on September 11? Jesus _____ Christ!!!



And what do we say in surprise? Oh my God!!!!



How many times during the course of a day do you hear those kinds of utterances: Jesus Christ – Oh My God – Jesus – God bless you.



Perhaps we have come to take God for granted. We throw His name around as if He has no substance. He has become part of everyday vernacular in a very ugly way. We even sprinkle expletives into our use of God and Jesus Christ in excited utterances.



I want to speak to you from the heart about God. I hope to introduce you to God if you don’t know Him for yourself. And if you do know Him I want to encourage you to continue your relationship with Him and to continue to grow in that relationship. I don’t intend to beat you over the head with the Bible, quoting book, chapter and verse, but I do believe the Bible contains what we need to know in order to live better life to its fullest.



And no, my life is not perfect; there is none whose is. But I can see that I’m not the person I used to be. And I work at, and hope, to become more of want God created me to be.



One of the ways that I honor God, is not only but loving Him, but by loving others. Okay, sometimes that's not so easy, especially when they don't love me -- or, should I say, people like me. We're really not so different; they just can't get past my dark skin. That's really sad, considering that many of them will be found in houses of worship in a couple of days, and many of those will be singing from the same hymnbook and reading from the same Bible as I.



I cannot help but wonder where they long to go when this life is over. There is an old hymn that says Some glad morning when this life is over, I'll fly away to a home on God's celestial shore. Another hymn contains these words: Sing the wondrous love of Jesus; sing His mercy and His grace; in the mansions bright and blessed He'll prepare for us a place. When we all get to heaven, what a day of rejoicing there will be. When we all see Jesus we'll sing and shout the victory. As far as I know there is but one heaven and one Jesus, and I hope to get there and see Him. Will they be there?

Wednesday, October 8, 2008

Damned If You Do . . . Damned If You Don't

During the primaries, other Democratic candidates went negative, attacking Mr. Obama on many fronts (I won't detail any here; if you've paid attention to any news in the past 20+ months, you know). When Obama did not respond to the negative attacks, the media labeled him weak. When he did respond, the original attackers whined about his negativity and the media accused him of going negative.

Well, here we are just four weeks away from the general election. The other guy is all the way negative. Alright, you might argue that it's not the other guy -- it's his wife, his running mate, some weirdo sheriff of a Florida county, whomever. That begs a question: what about the theory of vicarious liability? It's not as much of a stretch as one might think. Whatever the other guy's camp does or says, it is a reflection on him (he is the head of his campaign and his party -- right?). Isn't that what happens when folks on my candidate's team make any kind of utterance? Mr. Obama is automatically responsible and taken to task for whatever is said.

So which is it? The rock or the hard place?

How about neither?

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

We're Going to Make a Killing -- Aren't We?

I don't know a lot about the mortgage industry, just a thing or two.

A few years ago just about any adult who was still breathing could get a mortgage. It was a time when many folks who had always dreamed of buying a home could do just that. It was also a time when folks who had a bit of equity in their homes could borrow against it, and they did.

The new homebuyers were excited about latching onto this aspect of the American Dream. The then-homeowners were excited about getting out of debt by paying off their maxed-out credit cards and blowing the rest of the windfall from their home equity loans on whatever. Mortgage brokers were excited because they could make an average month's income on one borrower with less than stellar credit by charging outrageous origination fees. Lending institutions were excited because they were putting on the greatest sale of the century -- money at rates that the least of us could afford, that is, until that "introductory rate" expired and the cost of borrowing that money began to increase.

During that time title companies were clamoring for "signing agents" to conduct mortgage signings in borrowers' homes or wherever they wanted to sign. Notaries public were clamoring for these juicy assignments that would pay as much as $200 a pop. The notary's job was to identify the documents and secure the borrowers' signatures. Many skipped past the identifying part and went straight to the "sign here" part. A fast-moving notary could say "sign here" a couple of dozen times while turning 135+ pages in about 15 minutes. It was nothing for a notary signing agent to do ten of those on any given day. And at the end of the day, the notary public would turn each page again, signing and applying his/he notarial seal, stuff the documents in an envelope and make a beeline to the nearest FEDEX depository. Can you do the math? Even at a modest $100 per transaction, that's still $1,000 a day.

Among the documents in those mortgage packages is one that advises the borrower what percentage of loans the lender serviced. The vast majority of those disclosures showed that the lender did not service any mortgages, meaning that the mortgage would definitely be sold.

Many of these mortgages were then bundled and sold. Everybody in on the original transaction would get paid. By purchasing the bundled mortgages, those up the food chain allowed the original lenders to free up money to make more loans. Those farther up the food chain were salivating over those adjustable rate mortgages -- they stood to make a bundle from the bundles. And where would all those $$$$ come from? The increased interest rates on those mortgages. The rate increases would be so onerous that many mortgagors could not afford the monthly payments. And then what? They would miss one month, then two or more, then foreclosure.

And what about those home equity loans? Sometimes borrowers would pay off their credit card debts. Sometimes they would blow the wad. Sometimes they would do both. Many times, after the credit card accounts had zero balances, those borrowers would start shopping again -- and charging their purchases. The same thing that happened to homebuyers happened to homequity borrowers: The rate increases would become so onerous that many mortgagors could not afford the monthly payments. And then what? They would miss one month, then two or more, then foreclosure.

So whose fault is it? The borrowers who aspired to own their homes? The mortgage brokers who gouged borrowers with unnecessarily high origination fees? The mortgage brokers who made verbal representations on which the borrowers relied, when the transactional documents reflected something totally different? The lenders who set interest rates that would become impossible to afford? Whatever governmental entities allows the use of transactional documents that the average person cannot understand? For an answer, how about all of the above?

  • The borrowers who aspired to own their homes should have made sure they bought a house (or homequity loan) that they could afford. They should have made sure they understood the terms of their mortages -- especially the parts about payments. Ignorance is not bliss.

  • The mortgage brokers who were allowed to charge excessive fees were just greedy predators. Of course, many of them are no longer in business. Some of them, after losing their businesses, lost their own homes to foreclosure. What goes around . . . comes around.

  • The mortgage brokers who represented that loans had particular terms that were not reflected in the documents were relying on the ignorance of the borrowers. Greedy mortgage brokers. Shame on them.

  • The lenders who set rates that either contemplated increases in income (the days of automatic raises are in the distant past) and/or home values. Interest rates tend to increase more often than they decrease. An increased interest rate means an increased mortgage payment, meaning more and more of the borrower's income would be allocated to the mortgage, never allowing the borrower to have extra money to reduce other debts or even save. Greedy lenders. Shame on the lenders.

  • The investors. Do they really need to make a killing? Can't a reasonable rate of return suffice? Greedy investors. Shame on them.

Who's making the killing now?

Why I Support THAT ONE -- Part II

I already knew we had gone to the dogs. But now folks don't even care to clothe their negativity, disdain, hatred, whatever you want to call it, in a modicum of courtesy and pseudo respect. (Even in Congress they refer to each other as the distinguished gentleman.) As I watched the "debate" on Tuesday evening (7 October), I observed the other guy point to and refer to my candidate of choice as THAT ONE as if he were identifying a defendant sitting at a table in a courtroom, on trial for his life. (Have you ever wondered how many folks [and I am sure there are many] who, lying, pointed to a defendant and identified him as the perpetrator of whatever crime, but who was truly innocent, and who later was MURDERED [okay -- most folks would say executed] for something he did not do? Just curious. Sorry -- I digress.)

As I write this, I cannot remember which lie the other guy was telling at the time; but I remember my indignation, and my candidate's calm demeanor. The other guy seemed to be on a rant. Perhaps he envisioned having stepped into some kind of muck and was reaching for a lone twig to grasp in hopes of pulling himself out. I supposed he thought my candidate would jump in the muck with him and they would both be too dirty and foul to be distinguishable. Not so. My candidate did not go there. In fact, the other guy spends a lot of time uttering my candidate's name in conjunction with junk, some twisted, some taken out of context, some exaggerated, and some just blatant lies.

Is my candidate a saint? Does he waste time talking about what's-his-name? Does he ever speak of the other guy in derogatory terms? Has he ever questioned the other guy's patriotism? Not at all. Not very much. Nope. Not that I have ever heard.

I support Mr. Obama -- THAT ONE -- because he is THE ONE who treats his opponent -- the other guy -- with dignity and respect -- whether the other guy deserves it or not.

We Don't Need Term Limits

There is no need to impose term limits because they already exist. We have the power to eliminate the entire Congress every 2 years. We have the power to change Presidents every four years. And we have the power to systematically change every Senator 2 years at a time over a 6 year period.

Why are we so complacent? Term after term the same people are returned to office, and as the years go by they conveniently forget the folks they're supposed to represent. Their constituencies shrink until there is only one -- not you -- not me -- just the person holding the office.

There was a time that I called the office of Congressional District 18 here in Houston. First, I was told that I was not on the voter registration rolls. Ha! The next time I called I was told something to the effect that "we have over 500,000 people in this district . . ." blah, blah, blah, to which I replied "it's your job; if you don't want to do it, quit and make room for someone who will."

The sad part is the people who ought to run for office generally don't. The sad part is that folks are more interested in when one lost one's viriginity or bounced one's first check than whether or not one has an inkling of an idea of how to make some sense of the mess we're in, and help get us out.

Perhaps if we were to stop deifying the folks who prostitute themselves for our votes, then forget about us and take care of themselves with top quality health and insurance and fat pensions, and instead call them to task, they would remember who is supposed to be working for whom.

Why I Support Obama -- Part I

I first thought he had lost his mind. Consider that at the age of 54 I have lived through some unpleasantries. Folks don't like to talk about the ugly side of this great country, but trust me, for each of us who are different there are many ugly sides. The Palins of the world simply cannot understand that people like me can love this country and despise it at the same time. All I can say is spend some time in my shoes.

The candidate I support has shown a heart for the many, not the few. He is much smarter, more thoughtful, better educated, more aware of this country's governing documents and more in tune with the rest of the world than the other guy. His judgment is more sound. His experience is more relevant and gives him a perspective that some deep-rooted DC tree who spreads his limbs to shade only 5% of the population could not possibly have.

Do I agree with EVERYTHING he says??? No. But when I consider the other guy, there is no real choice for change but Obama. Unless you have long bucks like Cindy (pick one, including McC), Oprah, Clinton (can you lend your latest venture millions?), or any of those worthless Wall Street fat cats, the last eight years should have stung a little bit. I've been stung a lot.

Judgment
Heart
Education
Knowledge
Insight
Experience (that matters)
Intelligence
Perspective

Obama.

Monday, October 6, 2008

Why This Blog???

Earlier in my adult life I wrote poetry, mostly quasi-biographical stuff. I found that most of my writings were the outpouring of some event in my life. More recently, in July 2000, after being unpleasantly ousted from my position as minister of music, my doctor referred me to a psychologist, and I went through grief therapy, the loss of people I had grown so close to in my music ministry, having been the equivalent of losing loved ones to death. In both cases, the acts of pouring out my thoughts assumed the mechanics of a relief valve.

Recently I have been screaming at the media, the government, campaigns, and in generally, the world -- in my mind, anyway. Watching the economy go down the toilet, the vile and dirty machinations of politics, a financial rescue of Biblical proporations -- to the WRONG FOLKS, and more -- called for more than a poem or a now-monthly talk with my therapist. Now, I can empty my garbage can anytime I want to.


What a wonderful thing technology can be for someone who learned to type on a manual typewriter and whose first job required typing letters on an IBM Selectric typewriter using SEVEN carbons. If you weren't around then you probably take all this great stuff for granted. Using the internet is so much sweeter when one comes from the "pre-BBS" age.

Palin the Pathetic - Part I

For those of you are at least of average intelligence -- male or female -- despite your political leanings in one direction or another -- surely you must be as embarrassed as I about having this woman take the stage in a major political arena. She has energized the Republican Party. She is fresh. She is new. She's a hockey mom. What is the big deal with that? She is ill-read -- ill-informed -- in no way articulate -- an airhead. Okay -- each of those is a really big deal.

In my earlier years I worked with women like Palin. They had the look. The packaging was okay, but the product sucked. (You know how it is when you buy a hugh bag of potato chips and it's only a quarter full -- and there's a little message on the back of the bag: THIS PRODUCT IS SOLD BY WEIGHT, NOT BY VOLUME.)

When I was a purchasing agent in the late 1970s I requested a "temp" to help me overhaul what was supposed to be my files, which I inherited, of course, from some inept Palin-looking person. Who did they send me? Another Palin lookalike. The next day she did not show up, nor did she phone in. When I called the agency and expressed my disappointment, after an empty apology I was told that they had someone else but she was definitely "backroom" material. I asked: Can she type? Can she file? Does she speaking English? The answers: yes, yes, and yes. Well send her! The woman who came was not a Palin cutout; instead she was a plain-looking, middle-aged Asian, who followed my instructions precisely and left me with a set of organized files that brought me a added dimension of efficiency.


So what? Can you imagine the thousands -- hundreds of thousands -- of woman and men -- who are denied opportunities for which they are well qualified -- because they are considered backroom material -- while the Palins of the world -- inept, unintelligent, inarticulate though they are -- get to be not just mayor of a tiny town, but governor of a state. And stupidly, rather than surround herself with folks who are intelligent, articulate, competent and capable of doing a job -- hands out perky positions to her high school buddies?



And folks wonder why I am supporting Mr. Obama.

Coming Out of the Closet

I have missed very few opportunities to cast a ballot in the past 36 years. I think I voted a straight ticket once and was plagued by the guilt of not considering each candidate individually. There are some schools of thought that not aligning oneself with a particular party dilutes the power of one's vote. I am not ready to concede that point.

When Barack Obama first announced his candidacy for president of the United States I said to myself that man must be out of his mind. And then there was Iowa. I stopped looking at the color of his skin and started listening to what he had to say. When I looked at the other candidates on both sides, I decided to support Mr. Obama.

So, there it is, for all of my friends and acquaintances -- liaberal, conservative, Black, White, Hispanice, Asian, Christian, heathen, heretic, creationists, evolutionists, and everyone else. I am supporting Barack Obama. Oh -- perhaps you thought I would support Mr. Obama because he is half black? Well, does that mean that I have supported everyone else for whom I voted because he or she is all white? Just for the record, I make sure to vote AGAINST Shelia Jackson Lee every chance I get.

Okay -- I've outed myself. Wait until you see what I have to say about what's-her-name -- Palin the Pathetic.