Lindsay Graham said at the start of the Sotomayor hearing that unless she had a meltdown, she was getting confirmed. And, further, he didn’t think she was going to have a meltdown. So why did we have to waste all that time? Just to allow us to showcase to the world the endemic and virulent prejudice that pulses below the surface of our society, and worse, at the highest levels of government?
Gee, Senator Graham, thanks for the reminder.
My sister is guest blogging with me. She is helping edit this entry. So, it will be nicer and better written than usual.
On Sunday, my partner, son and I were on our way back from the Bronx Zoo on the No. 2 train. Somewhere in the Bronx, a woman had a petite mal seizure (form of epilepsy it seemed) on the train, but no one knew that until she came around. Everyone was joking about her being a drunk or a drug addict. Someone helped her back on the seat. Then, everyone continued talking about her as if she wasn’t there. I got up and walked down the subway car to see if someone was hurt and and asked her if she was ok. She said she has seizures and felt ok. She seemed dazed and I kept my eye on her and asked her a few more times about how she was feeling. We got off the train at the same stop in Manhattan and I made sure she knew where she was and that she had her wallet with money to get where she needed to go (back up to the Bronx). I was startled and sad that no one else came to her aid and people thought it was funny. I didn’t even help that much, but I hope I made her feel a little safer.
Over 40 years ago, Kitty Genovese was stabbed countless times while her neighbors looked on. Psychologists say that this communal inaction is known as diffusion of responsibility. No one will act unless someone else does, and therefore no one acts.
So, only one person needs to act and everything can change. Yes, we can.
I blog because it is cathartic and empowering. It is also more considerate of my friends and family to give them a break from listening to me. My partner is especially grateful. She can read my thoughts when she has time or not. Up to her.
I would appreciate comments from those of you who read my entries. I would welcome different viewpoints and I would like to engage in a dialogue. I see the world through a lens shaped by my life’s trajectory and family story, so my view is necessarily constrained.
I am not my son’s biological mother. My partner is. There are distinct advantages to being genetically irrelevant: no worries that the less-than-stellar genes I carry (recessive, of course) will transfer to my son. I can say that he is adorable and that he is smart, because I have nothing to do with those. The down side is that I don’t see my mother in him and she was such a positive life force.
I live the nature/nurture debate. I think humans are born hard-wired and nurture doesn’t change that. Nurture can create a safe, loving, encouraging environment so that a child’s better impulses, desires and dreams can flourish. That’s my job. It is hard sometimes because there is something about the biological connection that is primitive and similarly hard-wired.
I worry about my place in my son’s life. I have a piece of paper — court ordered adoption. I am legally and financially as responsible for him as is any biological parent. But that is no bright line upon which to stake my parental claim. Certainly if family were decided based on “blood” relations, I would lose. Court order sounds strong but it is paper and in “rock, paper, scissors,” I would lose to the scissors. So, it can’t be that strong.
I know I love him and he loves me. That’s the tie that binds. The rest shouldn’t matter. But until love is the litmus test for family, I am glad I have the piece of paper.
Finding out someone I consider(ed) a friend is cheating on his spouse sent me into the rant that follows. (And I don’t mean a-blame-it-on-alcohol one night stand. I can understand one-time show of colossal stupidity or total lapse of judgment because we are human.)
Maybe I am so upset because, on local and national levels, I wonder where are our humanity and our personal and societal accountability?
Our economy has been destroyed by the greedy and power-hungry — really, if you all only cheated only a little, you would be fabulously rich and 30% of Americans wouldn’t be out of work, homeless, worrying about their jobs, without healthcare or any combo of these.
Our society has been co-opted by power hungry people who control by creating “Us”es and “Them”s — really, you could be kingmakers and then be high-paying pundits without starting a culture war and leaving our national principles among the casualties.
Our religions have been hijacked by radicalism — really, as Elvis Costello asked, what’s so funny about peace, love and understanding? What is wrong with our president’s middle name and his family heritage? And what if a man loved a man?
Our politics are populated by self-serving hypocrites — if you live in a glass house, be generous about the frailty of others lest you be fodder for the 24 hour news recycle. You might even get to do something for the Common Weal instead of the Singular Ego.
Maybe humanity starts with humility. Ok, so I guess that means I should not judge my (former) friend. Instead I should hope he finds his way back to his family. So, I have proved my point by being the very type of self satisfied pompous ass against whom I started this rant. Damn. I hate that.
I’ll plan on being humble tomorrow. Today, I will enjoy being the pompous ass. Because I am mad enough, I am tired enough and, gosh darn it, I am (sort of) good enough to rant today. Apologies to the Senator, formerly known as comedian, Al Franken.
Here’s the news: Palin quits governorship; Franken is senator (finally); Obama heads to Russia to warm up the Chilly War that evolved under Bush (who looked into Putin’s eyes and saw his soul); there is ethnic unrest in China; more clerics back Ahmadinejad’s opposition in Iran; President Zelaya of Honduras was prevented from returning to his country; Michael Jackson is still dead and public does NOT need to know all of the details of his poor kids; Al Sharpton is getting a piece of Jackson action as commentator because, well, he is Al Sharpton; the economy still sucks; Pakistan is a nuclear power fighting Taliban insurgency; the popularly elected leader of Myanmar who has been under house arrest for 15 years is still on trial; Afghanistan is a war zone; Federer is into gold lame embroidery (ode to Michael Jackson?). What have I left out?
Marion Barry, formerly known as the crack smoking, prostitute patronizing mayor of DC, who reincarnated as a religious, righteous man and DC council member, is in trouble for stalking someone. Hell, next year, the man will get a lifetime achievement award at the fancy Press Corps dinner with the president speaking. After all, Marion Barry sells newspapers. Richard Nixon, our disgraced, drug addicted (prescription pills are sooooo establishment), criminal ex-president, was reincarnated as an elder statesman in his later years. Now that I think of it, I am really scared that Sarah Palin could really make a comeback. Because, clearly, anything is possible in America.
I am one of the lucky ones. I am healthy and I have savings and I have a job. And I am scared out of my wits by this economic disaster.
I used to be steady and strong and now I feel powerless in this multi-faceted crisis. I am whipped around like an autumn leaf in the wind.
As long as you talk, Mr. President, I feel safe. But then I go to lectures and I read articles and watch the talking heads on the 24 shmews cycle and everyone has six different opinions and no answers. It is the consensus (from self-proclaimed “experts”) of the talking heads that that we are still in free fall although we’ve caught on to part of a ledge for now, and the problems cannot be fixed because they are not fixable without throwing out the system and starting over.
Please, Mr. President, and, please, members of Congress, don’t take political advantage. Save our nation, restore our faith, be tough with those of us who knowingly borrowed more than we could afford and, most especially, those who gamed the system and gambled away our livelihoods and futures.
Stop all the in-fighting. Write legislation that works and not that is merely expedient.
Dear President Obama:
I saw the tape of your hugging the woman with the terrible cancer problem at your town hall meeting. She seemed like she needed a hug. I don’t have cancer and I want a hug, too. But if I may, I’d like to offer some pointers on hug etiquette. My credentials on this subject are that I came from a hugging and kissing family.
It was a good starter as stranger-on-stranger hugs go. But you, Mr. President, are not a stranger to us. You are, like it or not, our Dad-in-Chief. Not just any dad. A Father Knows Best dad. So, you need a blend of the stranger hug (the tepid-two-second-and-pat-pat-pat-on-the-back hug) and the mourner’s hug (as if hugging your old friend who has just lost someone special). Let’s call it the I-get-it/I’m-here-for-you hug. I imagine it is at least a full-frontal ten-second hug, followed by a squeeze for emphasis.
I know you can do this, Mr. President. I can help you practice. When can I show up for my hug?
Dear Mom:
In life, some days are just horrible, no-good, terrible days. Today is one of those days.
I wish I could jump back in time to hear your voice and feel your hug. But, to paraphrase Joni Mitchell, those stupid, stinking painted ponies keep going up and down and round and round on the carousel of time.
I saw a moment between a mother and daughter — the mother comforting a crying daughter, and taking her home to care of her — and I thought that was what you would have done, just as you did a long time ago even into my late 20s, when I would run home because I was scared of life and responsibilities and failure. I was sad for the daughter but I knew she would be all right — her mother’s love is strong and her nurturing so apparent.
Carly Simon thinks her mother is dancing with Benjamin Franklin on the other side of the moon. I think you are lecturing G-d about changing things in the world. I know you’re busy because the world is a bit of a mess these days.
Stop by for a chat in my dreams when you have a moment —
Love, me