RIP
Stephen Bruton lost his battle with cancer on Saturday. He was our neighbor down on Bicknell and he will be missed. Prayers and blessing go with him and out to his family and friends.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Monday, May 11, 2009
JAM ON.
(Couldn't find the Help>Slipknot>Franklin's Tower that opened the show last night, but I love Branford playin' with the band, and the energy is the same - rockin'!)
Last night I went to see the Dead at Shoreline. I was somewhat trepidatious because I still miss Jerry a lot and I wasn't sure that this wouldn't make me miss him more, but when I heard that Warren Haynes and Jeff Chimenti are touring with the band I figured it would be worth it to check it out.
It was sooooo worth it.
My friend Ron - the man who is getting my kidney - is a Deadhead. He started going to shows back in 1973, AND he lives in NoCal, so I called him up and asked him if he wanted to go with me. He was totally up for it. We were going to bring Peg (his wife and one of my besty's) and Em (the 13 year old daughter) since it was Mother's Day, but when we found out it was a night time show on a school night we decided it was better for them to stay home for some mother-daughter bonding time.
Adi wanted to come and have the experience so he flew in from Vegas to meet me. He never got to see the Dead when they were Grateful, and since he grew up in Israel and the Dead never got a lot of top 40 radio play, he is unfamiliar with most of their music, but he loves good music and I figured he'd appreciate the excellent musicianship. Plus, if the parking lot was still happening that's always a good time. He was even up for the pot cookies my neighbor made us. I had to call the transplant center and ask if I could eat pot without screwing everything up. The coordinator laughed when I asked her and said that she knew exaclty the doctor she could ask. I wondered if he was going to be at the show too and if I could have him do my surgery. The word was go so I went.
We flew in on Saturday and started listening to the Grateful Dead channel on Sirius non-stop. It was on first thing yesterday morning, so Adi got to hear some Jerry shows and Ron and I got more and more excited because we were going to a show!!! I haven't felt that feeling in a long time, and in that time I have aged and so had everyone else who showed up. Except of course those stoned young souls in the parking lot who never got to see Jerry play a show because they were 3 when he died.
Or maybe they were those babies in the parking lot whose parents took them on tour throughout their formative years and they just never got out of the parking lot.
In any case, we spent a couple hours roaming around the B lot which was a tiny microcosm of what I remember as a sprawling bazaar of commerce and cuisine d'ganga. It was all still there: the music, the dancing, the dread locks, the tie dye, the women with hairy armpits, the chubby babies (although now most of them had ear plugs), and the ganga peanut butter cups all encompassed in a cloud of smoke - just a smaller group because in the 16 years since Jerry died some of them, probably a lot of them, got real jobs.
My favorite T-shirt listed all the stops on the AARP tour 2009.
Adi asked me what had changed the most between then and now and I told him honestly that there were a lot more old people. The Deadheads have always been a transgenerational crowd that rocks and bobs together, but now there were a lot more gray heads and glasses in the group. The elders are definitely in the majority.
We got to our seats in the 200 section and at 7pm the place was empty. Weird. At 7:20 it was barely half full and Bobby came out and announced that for safety reasons they weren't going to start playing because there were still about 10,000 people lined up to get in. It was like everyone was out of practice, or else so glad to see each other that they forgot what they came for. Timing your drugs for a show is still important and so it could also have been that they got too high and lost track of time. On the pot cookie front we ate them waaaaay too early and the show started late so midway through all I had going on was heartburn.
Adi had been snapping pictures with a big smile on his face from the moment we arrived. As the people filled in around us I was reminded of how very diverse we are as a group, and how much fun it is to "do a show" with the people you sit with. Adi sat on my left and next to him were a threesome who were probably at the acid tests. They were decked out in original tour shirts from the early 70s and all had gray hair. One gentleman had lost a leg, but had a birkenstock strapped on his prosthetic foot, his friend had lost his voicebox and had to speak through one of those handheld devices and smoke his joints through the hole in his neck. They were like two old beaten up old warriors who still loved life. Between them was a lovely lady with long silver hair who danced like she was surfing a wave and although her face was lined you could still see the girl she was back in 1968 in her beatific smile.
Ron was closer to the aisle and so he got the roaming dancers who lit next to him for a song or a jam and then moved back out to the stairs to leap up and down and spin around and around. I still can't get past the fact that these people are for the most part barefoot, I mean it's great that they're having fun, but how high do you have to be to dance around in your bare feet in the area where the drunk guy in the red hat took a big, long leak because he didn't want to miss anything? The mean age of our section was about 45, mostly due to the fact that down in front of us was an adorable man who appeared to be about 89 years old who'd come with his son who was about 65, and pretty much everyone was puff, puff, passing. I prayed that no one would go down with a heart attack.
At 7:45 the place was full and the band came out and ripped into Help on the Way>Slipknot>Franklin's Tower. The place went crazy and the energy was amazing. The sound was good, the band was tight and everyone was singing at the top of their lungs - you can hear the crowd singing in the clip above and I imagine it was like that where ever they went.
I could critique the show, song by song, but ultimately, for me, it was different but the same. I miss Jerry and I always will, but at the end of the day a jam done well for people who appreciate it, is a good time. Warren doesn't try to replace Jerry and he honors his music and his spirit while doing his own thing - something he does really well. Jeff is an amazing player and when he took over and took off it was a great ride. What I liked best is that these two guys could join these four guys and because they all love the music... and we all love the music...it was magical.
As old as the band is and as old as the crowd has gotten we still rocked all night - until midnight in fact. Adi was nodding off after 10 hours of non-stop music from the house, the car, the parking lot to the show but for a first timer he held his own. I could barely walk this morning when I staggered out of bed to catch an early flight.
Ron and I are hoping that they will tour again next year so we can go after the transplant and celebrate - in which case I will have to start training. I forgot what dancing for four hours can do your neck and your hips and your knees.
Oy.
I'm sure that there are deadheads out there who just can't do it without Jerry. But I know for myself and the people who showed up - we were really ready to do this again because no matter what's happening in the world and with the economy - there is nothing like a Dead show.
(Couldn't find the Help>Slipknot>Franklin's Tower that opened the show last night, but I love Branford playin' with the band, and the energy is the same - rockin'!)
Last night I went to see the Dead at Shoreline. I was somewhat trepidatious because I still miss Jerry a lot and I wasn't sure that this wouldn't make me miss him more, but when I heard that Warren Haynes and Jeff Chimenti are touring with the band I figured it would be worth it to check it out.
It was sooooo worth it.
My friend Ron - the man who is getting my kidney - is a Deadhead. He started going to shows back in 1973, AND he lives in NoCal, so I called him up and asked him if he wanted to go with me. He was totally up for it. We were going to bring Peg (his wife and one of my besty's) and Em (the 13 year old daughter) since it was Mother's Day, but when we found out it was a night time show on a school night we decided it was better for them to stay home for some mother-daughter bonding time.
Adi wanted to come and have the experience so he flew in from Vegas to meet me. He never got to see the Dead when they were Grateful, and since he grew up in Israel and the Dead never got a lot of top 40 radio play, he is unfamiliar with most of their music, but he loves good music and I figured he'd appreciate the excellent musicianship. Plus, if the parking lot was still happening that's always a good time. He was even up for the pot cookies my neighbor made us. I had to call the transplant center and ask if I could eat pot without screwing everything up. The coordinator laughed when I asked her and said that she knew exaclty the doctor she could ask. I wondered if he was going to be at the show too and if I could have him do my surgery. The word was go so I went.
We flew in on Saturday and started listening to the Grateful Dead channel on Sirius non-stop. It was on first thing yesterday morning, so Adi got to hear some Jerry shows and Ron and I got more and more excited because we were going to a show!!! I haven't felt that feeling in a long time, and in that time I have aged and so had everyone else who showed up. Except of course those stoned young souls in the parking lot who never got to see Jerry play a show because they were 3 when he died.
Or maybe they were those babies in the parking lot whose parents took them on tour throughout their formative years and they just never got out of the parking lot.
In any case, we spent a couple hours roaming around the B lot which was a tiny microcosm of what I remember as a sprawling bazaar of commerce and cuisine d'ganga. It was all still there: the music, the dancing, the dread locks, the tie dye, the women with hairy armpits, the chubby babies (although now most of them had ear plugs), and the ganga peanut butter cups all encompassed in a cloud of smoke - just a smaller group because in the 16 years since Jerry died some of them, probably a lot of them, got real jobs.
My favorite T-shirt listed all the stops on the AARP tour 2009.
Adi asked me what had changed the most between then and now and I told him honestly that there were a lot more old people. The Deadheads have always been a transgenerational crowd that rocks and bobs together, but now there were a lot more gray heads and glasses in the group. The elders are definitely in the majority.
We got to our seats in the 200 section and at 7pm the place was empty. Weird. At 7:20 it was barely half full and Bobby came out and announced that for safety reasons they weren't going to start playing because there were still about 10,000 people lined up to get in. It was like everyone was out of practice, or else so glad to see each other that they forgot what they came for. Timing your drugs for a show is still important and so it could also have been that they got too high and lost track of time. On the pot cookie front we ate them waaaaay too early and the show started late so midway through all I had going on was heartburn.
Adi had been snapping pictures with a big smile on his face from the moment we arrived. As the people filled in around us I was reminded of how very diverse we are as a group, and how much fun it is to "do a show" with the people you sit with. Adi sat on my left and next to him were a threesome who were probably at the acid tests. They were decked out in original tour shirts from the early 70s and all had gray hair. One gentleman had lost a leg, but had a birkenstock strapped on his prosthetic foot, his friend had lost his voicebox and had to speak through one of those handheld devices and smoke his joints through the hole in his neck. They were like two old beaten up old warriors who still loved life. Between them was a lovely lady with long silver hair who danced like she was surfing a wave and although her face was lined you could still see the girl she was back in 1968 in her beatific smile.
Ron was closer to the aisle and so he got the roaming dancers who lit next to him for a song or a jam and then moved back out to the stairs to leap up and down and spin around and around. I still can't get past the fact that these people are for the most part barefoot, I mean it's great that they're having fun, but how high do you have to be to dance around in your bare feet in the area where the drunk guy in the red hat took a big, long leak because he didn't want to miss anything? The mean age of our section was about 45, mostly due to the fact that down in front of us was an adorable man who appeared to be about 89 years old who'd come with his son who was about 65, and pretty much everyone was puff, puff, passing. I prayed that no one would go down with a heart attack.
At 7:45 the place was full and the band came out and ripped into Help on the Way>Slipknot>Franklin's Tower. The place went crazy and the energy was amazing. The sound was good, the band was tight and everyone was singing at the top of their lungs - you can hear the crowd singing in the clip above and I imagine it was like that where ever they went.
I could critique the show, song by song, but ultimately, for me, it was different but the same. I miss Jerry and I always will, but at the end of the day a jam done well for people who appreciate it, is a good time. Warren doesn't try to replace Jerry and he honors his music and his spirit while doing his own thing - something he does really well. Jeff is an amazing player and when he took over and took off it was a great ride. What I liked best is that these two guys could join these four guys and because they all love the music... and we all love the music...it was magical.
As old as the band is and as old as the crowd has gotten we still rocked all night - until midnight in fact. Adi was nodding off after 10 hours of non-stop music from the house, the car, the parking lot to the show but for a first timer he held his own. I could barely walk this morning when I staggered out of bed to catch an early flight.
Ron and I are hoping that they will tour again next year so we can go after the transplant and celebrate - in which case I will have to start training. I forgot what dancing for four hours can do your neck and your hips and your knees.
Oy.
I'm sure that there are deadheads out there who just can't do it without Jerry. But I know for myself and the people who showed up - we were really ready to do this again because no matter what's happening in the world and with the economy - there is nothing like a Dead show.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
AND WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH YOUR COLLEGE EDUCATION?
Things being what they are with the state of the economy people are turning to all sorts of alternative forms of employment to get the mortgage paid and buy food.
I am buying gold.
It's something I really enjoy although I was initially resistant. I'm not one to sell stuff, or to push anything on anyone. This is not that though. This is buying up what most people consider their junk. People sell me their single earrings, their broken chains, the rings they never wear and the stuff they once sported back when it was cool to dress up like Mr. T with shoulder pads and a huge perm.
There's a process to the buying that involves testing each piece to determine the karat - sadly, most gold that's stamped 14K is not. It's more like 12K or even 10K and if you bought it in Mexico odds are it's 6K. Most of the buying is done at parties and because of the deal we have with the refiner our return is higher so our pay out is also higher.
For this reason people have parties, invite their friends to bring their gold and I sit and test for 3-5 hours and leave with a big bag of gold, having written anywhere from $1,000 to $8,000 in checks and a check for 10% of the total to the host.
Every once in a while there's a party where there's no gold. Tonight was one of those nights. The hostess had made a ton of food, and there was a "Slumber Party" presentation. Last night there was a "Hush Party" along with the gold party and it's safe to say that I have pretty much seen enough dildos to tide me over for a long while. Why anyone would think that a giant red rubber battery operated dildo that goes up and down and swings round and round with three separate rows of controls and flashing red disco lights is erotic is beyond me - I found it terrifying.
Anyway, tonight I skipped the dildo presentation and hung out in back snacking on fruit and checking my watch. Then I overheard a bit of conversation from the kitchen...
"So the stripper's here, but they're just getting to the dildos, can he wait at your house? He's like half naked."
"Yeah, my husband is going around the corner to watch the fight, let me get him out of the house first."
STRIPPER? Seriously?
Oh yeah. We had Flash from Brooklyn in the house. The boy looked good in his g-string and had all kinds of moves. He was picking them up and grinding away - dude was STRONG. These were not little women - not even close. He had these women on their backs on the floor covered in saran wrap and whipped cream. He was down there with his face between their legs and everyone was screaming and hooting and hollering.
He was inspirational.
I was there to work however, so as soon as he got dressed I tried to buy the giant diamond encrusted gold Jesus head that was hanging around his neck.
"Are you interested in selling that?" I asked coyly.
"I'm going to upgrade it next month."
"Well, give me a call and I'll give you a price," as I slide him a card and think that the evening is not a total loss even if I didn't buy much gold. It comes up in conversation that he went to college for five years and I asked where.
Boy went to Rutgers!!!! And played basketball and football!!!! And do you know what he does now when he's not stripping in overheated, estrogen charged living rooms?
He represents "females" (his word, not mine) who are interested in acting in adult films. He's pimping for porn! His mama must be so proud.
And maybe he'd like to have a gold party with some of his clients?
Things being what they are with the state of the economy people are turning to all sorts of alternative forms of employment to get the mortgage paid and buy food.
I am buying gold.
It's something I really enjoy although I was initially resistant. I'm not one to sell stuff, or to push anything on anyone. This is not that though. This is buying up what most people consider their junk. People sell me their single earrings, their broken chains, the rings they never wear and the stuff they once sported back when it was cool to dress up like Mr. T with shoulder pads and a huge perm.
There's a process to the buying that involves testing each piece to determine the karat - sadly, most gold that's stamped 14K is not. It's more like 12K or even 10K and if you bought it in Mexico odds are it's 6K. Most of the buying is done at parties and because of the deal we have with the refiner our return is higher so our pay out is also higher.
For this reason people have parties, invite their friends to bring their gold and I sit and test for 3-5 hours and leave with a big bag of gold, having written anywhere from $1,000 to $8,000 in checks and a check for 10% of the total to the host.
Every once in a while there's a party where there's no gold. Tonight was one of those nights. The hostess had made a ton of food, and there was a "Slumber Party" presentation. Last night there was a "Hush Party" along with the gold party and it's safe to say that I have pretty much seen enough dildos to tide me over for a long while. Why anyone would think that a giant red rubber battery operated dildo that goes up and down and swings round and round with three separate rows of controls and flashing red disco lights is erotic is beyond me - I found it terrifying.
Anyway, tonight I skipped the dildo presentation and hung out in back snacking on fruit and checking my watch. Then I overheard a bit of conversation from the kitchen...
"So the stripper's here, but they're just getting to the dildos, can he wait at your house? He's like half naked."
"Yeah, my husband is going around the corner to watch the fight, let me get him out of the house first."
STRIPPER? Seriously?
Oh yeah. We had Flash from Brooklyn in the house. The boy looked good in his g-string and had all kinds of moves. He was picking them up and grinding away - dude was STRONG. These were not little women - not even close. He had these women on their backs on the floor covered in saran wrap and whipped cream. He was down there with his face between their legs and everyone was screaming and hooting and hollering.
He was inspirational.
I was there to work however, so as soon as he got dressed I tried to buy the giant diamond encrusted gold Jesus head that was hanging around his neck.
"Are you interested in selling that?" I asked coyly.
"I'm going to upgrade it next month."
"Well, give me a call and I'll give you a price," as I slide him a card and think that the evening is not a total loss even if I didn't buy much gold. It comes up in conversation that he went to college for five years and I asked where.
Boy went to Rutgers!!!! And played basketball and football!!!! And do you know what he does now when he's not stripping in overheated, estrogen charged living rooms?
He represents "females" (his word, not mine) who are interested in acting in adult films. He's pimping for porn! His mama must be so proud.
And maybe he'd like to have a gold party with some of his clients?
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
SAMENESS
I started buying gold about a year ago. The price has held above $700 for over a year and is currently up around $900 so it makes sense to go through your jewelry box and get rid of those busted up chains and ram's head earrings that lost their mate.
You can make some nice money doing that.
I go to people's houses and they have parties and people come and bring me their jewelry and tell me their stories and I scratch it, test it and separate it into karats and then weigh it and pay by the gram.
There are 31.1 grams in an oz. of gold.
It has occurred to me on more than one occassion that 25 years ago I was using this exact same scale to weigh out cocaine by the gram. People would come and do a bump and tell me their stories.
All in all there's a lot of sameness in commerce - only now I'm buying instead of selling.
I like this better.
I started buying gold about a year ago. The price has held above $700 for over a year and is currently up around $900 so it makes sense to go through your jewelry box and get rid of those busted up chains and ram's head earrings that lost their mate.
You can make some nice money doing that.
I go to people's houses and they have parties and people come and bring me their jewelry and tell me their stories and I scratch it, test it and separate it into karats and then weigh it and pay by the gram.
There are 31.1 grams in an oz. of gold.
It has occurred to me on more than one occassion that 25 years ago I was using this exact same scale to weigh out cocaine by the gram. People would come and do a bump and tell me their stories.
All in all there's a lot of sameness in commerce - only now I'm buying instead of selling.
I like this better.
Monday, April 20, 2009
A LIFE
I just got a phone call to let me know that I am cleared to donate my kidney to my friend Ron. This has been in process for a while, but it's always seemed remote, something that might not happen. So now we are scheduling surgery and it's very real.
People who know say: You are such a good person. You're a hero. You're so brave.
Ron is not the only person I know who needs a kidney transplant. I personally know or have known in my life three people who have had to live on dialysis and face an uncertain future.
I think that they are brave.
How hard must it be to get up everyday and know that you will die unless you are hooked up to a machine? What we now know is that living kidney donors can live long, healthy lives, sometimes longer and healthier than the general public because they, or now I can say we, are healthier than the general public to begin with.
There were several factors that started me on the road to this decision a couple of years ago: 1) I don't have my own children. For me this matters because if I did have kids I would want to save my spare parts for them. 2) We don't have kidney disease in my family, or hypertension or diabetes which are often the precursors to kidney disease and 3) Ron loves the Grateful Dead and so do I and the reality is that there aren't that many people in my life that get what that was all about. So even though he and I are very different we are in the same tribe.
There are other more obvious reasons why I decided to do this - he's married to one of my oldest and best friends, their daughter is 13 and she's a very special kid in my life, we're both O positive.
But, at the end of the day I'm doing this because I can and I want to and I am moved to do so. Doesn't make me a good person, or someone who couldn't imagine doing it, a bad person.
It's about life and what feels right for me.
I just got a phone call to let me know that I am cleared to donate my kidney to my friend Ron. This has been in process for a while, but it's always seemed remote, something that might not happen. So now we are scheduling surgery and it's very real.
People who know say: You are such a good person. You're a hero. You're so brave.
Ron is not the only person I know who needs a kidney transplant. I personally know or have known in my life three people who have had to live on dialysis and face an uncertain future.
I think that they are brave.
How hard must it be to get up everyday and know that you will die unless you are hooked up to a machine? What we now know is that living kidney donors can live long, healthy lives, sometimes longer and healthier than the general public because they, or now I can say we, are healthier than the general public to begin with.
There were several factors that started me on the road to this decision a couple of years ago: 1) I don't have my own children. For me this matters because if I did have kids I would want to save my spare parts for them. 2) We don't have kidney disease in my family, or hypertension or diabetes which are often the precursors to kidney disease and 3) Ron loves the Grateful Dead and so do I and the reality is that there aren't that many people in my life that get what that was all about. So even though he and I are very different we are in the same tribe.
There are other more obvious reasons why I decided to do this - he's married to one of my oldest and best friends, their daughter is 13 and she's a very special kid in my life, we're both O positive.
But, at the end of the day I'm doing this because I can and I want to and I am moved to do so. Doesn't make me a good person, or someone who couldn't imagine doing it, a bad person.
It's about life and what feels right for me.
Friday, April 03, 2009
Gotta Dance!
I grew up in the age of the movie musical. I went to see them all from a very young age: Mary Poppins, Sound of Music, Fiddler on the Roof, Cabaret, All that Jazz, even a revival of my all time favorite, Singin' in the Rain - which rocks in a movie theater.
So I was quite disappointed to find that life wasn't really like that. Not only do people never break out in song and dance during pivotal moments of their day or when feeling a surge of emotion, they get really freaked out if YOU do it anywhere near them.
In 1976 I went to see a movie called The Groove Tube and they spoofed the whole "gotta dance, gotta sing" thing. I laughed till I cried. I probably would have chased this man down the street pleading to have his babies and planning to start our own dance troupe. How can people ignore this bouncing ball of joy in a PINK suit?
Okay, so maybe he could be crazy, but it looks like the good kind of crazy. I've dated all kinds of crazy and let me tell you - it could be worse.
JUST YOU, JUST ME
I'm happy to report that it appears that I am not alone in my desire for movie musical moments.
I am so loving this.
And this!
Apparently I am not the only one to enjoy an outbreak of joyful dance.
Sadly it seems my fellow dancers all live in other countries.
C'mon people! Things are bad and getting worse everyday.
Why not dance?
I grew up in the age of the movie musical. I went to see them all from a very young age: Mary Poppins, Sound of Music, Fiddler on the Roof, Cabaret, All that Jazz, even a revival of my all time favorite, Singin' in the Rain - which rocks in a movie theater.
So I was quite disappointed to find that life wasn't really like that. Not only do people never break out in song and dance during pivotal moments of their day or when feeling a surge of emotion, they get really freaked out if YOU do it anywhere near them.
In 1976 I went to see a movie called The Groove Tube and they spoofed the whole "gotta dance, gotta sing" thing. I laughed till I cried. I probably would have chased this man down the street pleading to have his babies and planning to start our own dance troupe. How can people ignore this bouncing ball of joy in a PINK suit?
Okay, so maybe he could be crazy, but it looks like the good kind of crazy. I've dated all kinds of crazy and let me tell you - it could be worse.
JUST YOU, JUST ME
I'm happy to report that it appears that I am not alone in my desire for movie musical moments.
I am so loving this.
And this!
Apparently I am not the only one to enjoy an outbreak of joyful dance.
Sadly it seems my fellow dancers all live in other countries.
C'mon people! Things are bad and getting worse everyday.
Why not dance?
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
A NEW DAY-SHAKE A TAILFEATHER!
Insomnia was my companion last night which worked out pretty well for me in that I was able to turn on CNN and watch the mall in front of the capital building fill up with all of those intrepid souls who showed up in DC to witness history. I switched back and forth from CNN to ABC - I think I was hoping that Diane Sawyer's dulcet tones would lull me back to sleep, but no such luck. By the time the sun came up here on the west coast I was totally amped!
I knew it was going to happen, that history was going to turn a page, but it was sort of amorphously going to happen "out there", so I wasn't prepared for all of the feelings that came up when I saw President Obama and his lovely wife as they started their day.
It got very real!
This may have been due to new technologies and the ability of cameras to get very close shots that make it seem as if the images are close enough to touch, but I think it had more to do with the fact that even through the television the humanity and connectedness of these two people to this journey is tangible, and I feel included.
In the past, specifically the last two terms of the presidency, I have felt removed from the process, like it didn't include me, or most of us and, in fact, it wasn't supposed to. Words that were meaningless and disconnected from my reality were mouthed by people who didn't feel like they existed in my reality. They lived in a rarified world of power and otherness that I would never belong to - I didn't want to belong to something that felt like that.
Today was so very different - in short I was a bit nonplussed by Rick Warren's sheer size - his prayer was okay, I cringed at Robert's flub and marveled at the new President's composure and confidence. I loved his speech. I didn't like the poem, or maybe I might have if it had been delivered with some fire. Loved the old Rev and his closing lines exhibited not only humor, but the resiliency of the human heart to forgive and move on - AMEN! I was amazed at the First Lady's ability to appear not only beautiful and gracious but exuberant when she had to be freezing her butt off - do you think she was wearing thermal spanx? I mean most women out there were wearing down coats and UGG boots and they looked cold.
Today was awesome because over a million people came together and there was no police action, there was no fighting, there were no visible protests, there was none of the bullshit that usually happens around politics and their parties. My friend Elizabeth was there and she said that there was spontaneous hugging and singing and just general celebration. Strangers sharing their joy with strangers without any self consciousness, with the expectation of acceptance. To me it sounded like what I loved best about going to see the Grateful Dead - people coming together to celebrate something joyful and how doing that makes it so easy for our best selves, our kindest selves to come out and be part of a collective consciousness that is the highest good of the human experience.
She's never been to a show but now she knows how it feels. The porta-potty thing never comes close to being an issue.
Watching the parade this afternoon - early evening in DC - I was struck by how much fun the Obamas seemed to be having as they witnessed the people of this country parading past for hours. They waved and made eye contact and those smiles! They danced, they made welcome those that came to share the moment with them and it occurred to me that we had people in the White House that felt real and human and it's been sooooooo long since I've felt that way about anyone in politics in this country.
The only thing that dimmed my bulb was when I heard that as Bush was introduced as President for the last time the crowd spontaneously started singing, "na na na na, na na na na, hey, hey, hey, good bye," so that it could be heard on the dais. While I understand the frustration that fuels something like that it is disrespectful and lacks grace.
I cannot imagine that Barack Obama would do something like that, nor that he appreciated it.
This is why when the Bush's got in the helicopter and flew away, and I leapt up and did a happy dance, I did it alone where no one could see me.
Insomnia was my companion last night which worked out pretty well for me in that I was able to turn on CNN and watch the mall in front of the capital building fill up with all of those intrepid souls who showed up in DC to witness history. I switched back and forth from CNN to ABC - I think I was hoping that Diane Sawyer's dulcet tones would lull me back to sleep, but no such luck. By the time the sun came up here on the west coast I was totally amped!
I knew it was going to happen, that history was going to turn a page, but it was sort of amorphously going to happen "out there", so I wasn't prepared for all of the feelings that came up when I saw President Obama and his lovely wife as they started their day.
It got very real!
This may have been due to new technologies and the ability of cameras to get very close shots that make it seem as if the images are close enough to touch, but I think it had more to do with the fact that even through the television the humanity and connectedness of these two people to this journey is tangible, and I feel included.
In the past, specifically the last two terms of the presidency, I have felt removed from the process, like it didn't include me, or most of us and, in fact, it wasn't supposed to. Words that were meaningless and disconnected from my reality were mouthed by people who didn't feel like they existed in my reality. They lived in a rarified world of power and otherness that I would never belong to - I didn't want to belong to something that felt like that.
Today was so very different - in short I was a bit nonplussed by Rick Warren's sheer size - his prayer was okay, I cringed at Robert's flub and marveled at the new President's composure and confidence. I loved his speech. I didn't like the poem, or maybe I might have if it had been delivered with some fire. Loved the old Rev and his closing lines exhibited not only humor, but the resiliency of the human heart to forgive and move on - AMEN! I was amazed at the First Lady's ability to appear not only beautiful and gracious but exuberant when she had to be freezing her butt off - do you think she was wearing thermal spanx? I mean most women out there were wearing down coats and UGG boots and they looked cold.
Today was awesome because over a million people came together and there was no police action, there was no fighting, there were no visible protests, there was none of the bullshit that usually happens around politics and their parties. My friend Elizabeth was there and she said that there was spontaneous hugging and singing and just general celebration. Strangers sharing their joy with strangers without any self consciousness, with the expectation of acceptance. To me it sounded like what I loved best about going to see the Grateful Dead - people coming together to celebrate something joyful and how doing that makes it so easy for our best selves, our kindest selves to come out and be part of a collective consciousness that is the highest good of the human experience.
She's never been to a show but now she knows how it feels. The porta-potty thing never comes close to being an issue.
Watching the parade this afternoon - early evening in DC - I was struck by how much fun the Obamas seemed to be having as they witnessed the people of this country parading past for hours. They waved and made eye contact and those smiles! They danced, they made welcome those that came to share the moment with them and it occurred to me that we had people in the White House that felt real and human and it's been sooooooo long since I've felt that way about anyone in politics in this country.
The only thing that dimmed my bulb was when I heard that as Bush was introduced as President for the last time the crowd spontaneously started singing, "na na na na, na na na na, hey, hey, hey, good bye," so that it could be heard on the dais. While I understand the frustration that fuels something like that it is disrespectful and lacks grace.
I cannot imagine that Barack Obama would do something like that, nor that he appreciated it.
This is why when the Bush's got in the helicopter and flew away, and I leapt up and did a happy dance, I did it alone where no one could see me.
Thursday, January 01, 2009
HOPE AND LOVE IN THE NEW YEAR
This is Bettye LaVette singing Reign On Me to honor the Who at the 2008 Kennedy Center Honors show from the other night. I could barely breathe it was so good. Joss Stone, Dave Grohl and Rob Thomas also performed and at the very end the curtain behind the band opened to reveal the New York City Firefighters and Police Officers singing Teenage Wasteland - a thank you to the Who for reuniting to play the concert for New York City after 9/11.
Happy New Year!
I am happy to leave 2008 behind and feeling hopeful for 2009 - but then this is how I usually feel at the beginning of anything. I remember the beginning of each school year I would get my new school supplies and vow to keep my Pee Chees clean and do all my homework on time. Then, inevitably the lack of focus in class would lead to Pee Chee doodling and my natual inclination toward procrastination would lead to a day late on homework and then two and so on.
The only reason I believe this year will be different is because I'm not making those kinds of promises to myself. The only real intention I'm setting this year is to be be in today and to be gentle with myself, and by extension, with others.
Last year started out sad with Nana's death and by the end of the year was much sadder and more stressful for so many reasons. This is not to say that there wasn't love and laughing and joy and good times - can you say President Elect Obama? but mostly I was tired.
Not a whole lot has changed except for that last digit and it will most likely take me a couple weeks before I start writing that correctly on checks and documents, but I still feel hopeful because a new year is kind of like a new Pee Chee - it's fresh and clean and there's no scribbling on it yet.
I'm looking forward to the Obama presidency (Lord please keep him safe), not because I think that all of our woes as a country will be fixed, but because I really believe that the only thing that trickles down in this country is intention and the man has the best intentions for all of us. I have so much respect for him and his willingness to step into this mess. I believe we can make it better because at the end of the day this is a great country populated with amazing people and we have the freedom and opportunity to create a better world.
I'm looking forward to what will get written this year. Maybe love? Some travel? Money? (it could happen) New adventures not yet imagined?
In any case let love reign on us all - I'm ready.
This is Bettye LaVette singing Reign On Me to honor the Who at the 2008 Kennedy Center Honors show from the other night. I could barely breathe it was so good. Joss Stone, Dave Grohl and Rob Thomas also performed and at the very end the curtain behind the band opened to reveal the New York City Firefighters and Police Officers singing Teenage Wasteland - a thank you to the Who for reuniting to play the concert for New York City after 9/11.
Happy New Year!
I am happy to leave 2008 behind and feeling hopeful for 2009 - but then this is how I usually feel at the beginning of anything. I remember the beginning of each school year I would get my new school supplies and vow to keep my Pee Chees clean and do all my homework on time. Then, inevitably the lack of focus in class would lead to Pee Chee doodling and my natual inclination toward procrastination would lead to a day late on homework and then two and so on.
The only reason I believe this year will be different is because I'm not making those kinds of promises to myself. The only real intention I'm setting this year is to be be in today and to be gentle with myself, and by extension, with others.
Last year started out sad with Nana's death and by the end of the year was much sadder and more stressful for so many reasons. This is not to say that there wasn't love and laughing and joy and good times - can you say President Elect Obama? but mostly I was tired.
Not a whole lot has changed except for that last digit and it will most likely take me a couple weeks before I start writing that correctly on checks and documents, but I still feel hopeful because a new year is kind of like a new Pee Chee - it's fresh and clean and there's no scribbling on it yet.
I'm looking forward to the Obama presidency (Lord please keep him safe), not because I think that all of our woes as a country will be fixed, but because I really believe that the only thing that trickles down in this country is intention and the man has the best intentions for all of us. I have so much respect for him and his willingness to step into this mess. I believe we can make it better because at the end of the day this is a great country populated with amazing people and we have the freedom and opportunity to create a better world.
I'm looking forward to what will get written this year. Maybe love? Some travel? Money? (it could happen) New adventures not yet imagined?
In any case let love reign on us all - I'm ready.
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
TEARS OF JOY
At a few minutes after 8pm PST this election was called for Barack Obama.
I burst into tears.
For the last month I have been saying a daily prayer that this country would make the right choice today, despite all the spin that seemed to say it wouldn't happen. Tonight my faith in this nation and the voters of this country was restored.
Not only because the right guy was elected, but because people came out and voted. Watching Times Square go off, and Morehouse college go off and all the other places in this country where people were losing their minds with joy I felt so proud and blessed to be a citizen of a democtratic nation.
This morning I was up at the ass crack of dawn so I brushed my teeth added jeans to my pajamas and headed out to vote. I got to the elementary school that is my polling place about 6:50 and there was a line down to the street. I was about the 50th person and there was a feeling of excitement and anticipation. I live in a neighborhood that's pretty racially mixed and pretty solidly middle class. The guy in front of me whose name is Oliver chatted with me about how we liked to vote and always did. Once the polls opened we stood in line for about 30 minutes before we got to the door of the gym where the voting booths are. As I was about to step in a little girl about 8 poked her head around the corner and chanted Obama! Obama! Obama!
Inside the gym an Asian lady who'd just voted asked the poll workers to take her picture as she placed her ballot in the box. A white guy took a picture of his wife and their little boy who looked to be about 4 years old. A black couple who'd just voted stopped to say hello to Oliver, the man in front of me who was my line pal. He was an older man, and his wife was a walking celebration in red, white and blue, and he said to Oliver as he hugged him, "there's going to be a black president in the White House after tonight brother - we are going to break out the champagne."
In that moment I was so aware of the fact that for the first time in our democracy this process was finally inclusive. I think this is why this election was so special. For every person in this country the first change came when Barack Obama won the nomination of the democratic party. The changes that will come have less to do with the color of his skin and more to do with his vision and my hope is that his election reflects a change in the consciousness of this country.
As I watched people weeping with joy and celebrating, as I cried myself, the hope for a new day was palpable and reminded me of the enthusiasm that surrounded JFK. Okay, I don't really remember what that was like, but it's more how it's recorded in history. As I watched John McCain make his concession speech and heard the crowd boo when he talked about Barack Obama and how much he admired him (a very gracious speech it was too), it made me think of this verse from Bob Dylan's song, Times They are a Changin' ...
Come mothers and fathers
Throughout the land
And dont criticize
What you cant understand
Your sons and your daughters
Are beyond your command
Your old road is
Rapidly agin.
Please get out of the new one
If you cant lend your hand
For the times they are a-changin.
It feels like times really are changing and that despite those people who continue to live lives marinated in racist hatred, the majority of people are thinking about what's best for this country, and for their families, and they picked a man based on his ideas and for his ability to galvanize, inspire and lead - not the color of his skin.
At a few minutes after 8pm PST this election was called for Barack Obama.
I burst into tears.
For the last month I have been saying a daily prayer that this country would make the right choice today, despite all the spin that seemed to say it wouldn't happen. Tonight my faith in this nation and the voters of this country was restored.
Not only because the right guy was elected, but because people came out and voted. Watching Times Square go off, and Morehouse college go off and all the other places in this country where people were losing their minds with joy I felt so proud and blessed to be a citizen of a democtratic nation.
This morning I was up at the ass crack of dawn so I brushed my teeth added jeans to my pajamas and headed out to vote. I got to the elementary school that is my polling place about 6:50 and there was a line down to the street. I was about the 50th person and there was a feeling of excitement and anticipation. I live in a neighborhood that's pretty racially mixed and pretty solidly middle class. The guy in front of me whose name is Oliver chatted with me about how we liked to vote and always did. Once the polls opened we stood in line for about 30 minutes before we got to the door of the gym where the voting booths are. As I was about to step in a little girl about 8 poked her head around the corner and chanted Obama! Obama! Obama!
Inside the gym an Asian lady who'd just voted asked the poll workers to take her picture as she placed her ballot in the box. A white guy took a picture of his wife and their little boy who looked to be about 4 years old. A black couple who'd just voted stopped to say hello to Oliver, the man in front of me who was my line pal. He was an older man, and his wife was a walking celebration in red, white and blue, and he said to Oliver as he hugged him, "there's going to be a black president in the White House after tonight brother - we are going to break out the champagne."
In that moment I was so aware of the fact that for the first time in our democracy this process was finally inclusive. I think this is why this election was so special. For every person in this country the first change came when Barack Obama won the nomination of the democratic party. The changes that will come have less to do with the color of his skin and more to do with his vision and my hope is that his election reflects a change in the consciousness of this country.
As I watched people weeping with joy and celebrating, as I cried myself, the hope for a new day was palpable and reminded me of the enthusiasm that surrounded JFK. Okay, I don't really remember what that was like, but it's more how it's recorded in history. As I watched John McCain make his concession speech and heard the crowd boo when he talked about Barack Obama and how much he admired him (a very gracious speech it was too), it made me think of this verse from Bob Dylan's song, Times They are a Changin' ...
Come mothers and fathers
Throughout the land
And dont criticize
What you cant understand
Your sons and your daughters
Are beyond your command
Your old road is
Rapidly agin.
Please get out of the new one
If you cant lend your hand
For the times they are a-changin.
It feels like times really are changing and that despite those people who continue to live lives marinated in racist hatred, the majority of people are thinking about what's best for this country, and for their families, and they picked a man based on his ideas and for his ability to galvanize, inspire and lead - not the color of his skin.
Monday, November 03, 2008
REMEMBERING TO BREATHE
I have consciously made a choice to distance myself from all of the election doings (except for reading today's coverage about Obama's grandmother - RIP Madelyn Payne Dunham).
This means I'm opting out of discussions, I don't look at polls, I don't watch any political programming and I zip through the ads on Tivo.
My friend Elizabeth was visiting last week and she is completely obsessed - watching non-stop coverage via the internet or on TV. She read to me from blogs and articles and while I tuned her out. Her increasingly passionate vocalizations sounded like a jet passing overhead because I am in self preservation mode.
I can barely breathe and it's been getting worse and worse as we count down. By this time tomorrow I will either be in the fetal position or drunk.
The last two elections were so difficult. Waking up the day after to a Bush presidency was like getting punched in the face and then punched in the gut. You just don't pop up after that - this country is down for the count in so many ways as a result of those two elections.
I don't know that Barack Obama is the answer, or that he can fix the mess we're in, but I do believe that he is our best option. It's hard to fathom that anyone in this country except for the very rich can actually believe in the trickle down theory that John McCain supports.
Believing that tax breaks for the super rich will create jobs and stimulate the economy is akin to having someone pee on your neck and tell you it's raining. The rich have never stopped spending - it's the middle class that is sitting on their wallets and if they don't spend the economy stalls. We're officially in a recession and it's not because the rich need to be stimulated.
At this point I'm not sleeping terribly well, and since we just turned our clocks back I will most likely be awake by 5a.m I'm thinking I'm going to head over the polls in the my PJs and be first in line.
Then I'll take a valium and spend the day remembering to breathe.
Hopefully on Wednesday morning I will be breathing a sigh of relief.
I have consciously made a choice to distance myself from all of the election doings (except for reading today's coverage about Obama's grandmother - RIP Madelyn Payne Dunham).
This means I'm opting out of discussions, I don't look at polls, I don't watch any political programming and I zip through the ads on Tivo.
My friend Elizabeth was visiting last week and she is completely obsessed - watching non-stop coverage via the internet or on TV. She read to me from blogs and articles and while I tuned her out. Her increasingly passionate vocalizations sounded like a jet passing overhead because I am in self preservation mode.
I can barely breathe and it's been getting worse and worse as we count down. By this time tomorrow I will either be in the fetal position or drunk.
The last two elections were so difficult. Waking up the day after to a Bush presidency was like getting punched in the face and then punched in the gut. You just don't pop up after that - this country is down for the count in so many ways as a result of those two elections.
I don't know that Barack Obama is the answer, or that he can fix the mess we're in, but I do believe that he is our best option. It's hard to fathom that anyone in this country except for the very rich can actually believe in the trickle down theory that John McCain supports.
Believing that tax breaks for the super rich will create jobs and stimulate the economy is akin to having someone pee on your neck and tell you it's raining. The rich have never stopped spending - it's the middle class that is sitting on their wallets and if they don't spend the economy stalls. We're officially in a recession and it's not because the rich need to be stimulated.
At this point I'm not sleeping terribly well, and since we just turned our clocks back I will most likely be awake by 5a.m I'm thinking I'm going to head over the polls in the my PJs and be first in line.
Then I'll take a valium and spend the day remembering to breathe.
Hopefully on Wednesday morning I will be breathing a sigh of relief.
Saturday, November 01, 2008
DIVINELEY GUIDED
There was more to Darrell's murder that I didn't write about, but after the events of the past 20 hours I really have record it somewhere.
I had a very close relationship with his family. He was one of 10 kids born to an Irish Catholic mother and an Italian Catholic father. Pretty much everyone who grew up in Long Beach during the 70s went to school with one of the kids. I don't remember my exact entree into the tribe, but by the time I was 20 I was included, along with so many others who weren't actual family members, in dinners and birthdays and holidays.
His mother's name was Alice when I first started hanging out, but at some point over the years she decided that she wanted to called Alicia - she thought it was prettier than Alice, and more importantly she had decided that she was going to make some changes in her life and for that she needed a different name - because she was becoming a different woman.
She had gotten married at 19 and then had 12 or 13 pregnancies and ended up raising 10 children over the next 20 years. When she and I became friends she was starting to look at what she wanted for her life, not in the context of wife or mother, but in addition to. She began traveling all over the world on her own or with one of her kids. Her husband was a navigator for the airlines and did not have a lot of interest in the kind of trips she wanted to take. She went to school and became a licensed esthetician in her 50s and started her own business. She was always heavily involved in boy scouts, even after her kids were long out of it. She loved that community and she would take me with her to various events and jamborees. I don't remember having a big desire to go to something like that, but more that I enjoyed spending time with her and having her to myself so anything we did was an adventure.
She was a devout Catholic and when I shared with her that I had a deep fear of all things Catholic and felt mostly panic in a Catholic church she took me to a mass said in latin which was "illegal" back in those days. She also took me to a huge parade for Our Lady of Guadalupe where there was the blessing of the animals. I still don't feel comfortable in a Catholic church, but I gained a better understanding of the comfort in ritual.
Her home was always open and full of not only her children but also their friends who became extended family. I would stop by on my way home from work or on a Saturday and hang in the kitchen with her. She taught me to make mayonnaise from scratch. She taught me how to make a meal for 15 people with not much more than vegetables and pasta and whoever was there when it was ready would sit down at the looooooooong cafeteria style table with the little stools that fit up under it when we were done.
She was one of the first women who ever talked to me candidly about marriage and parenting in a way that honored all that was good, but was also very realistic about the challenges. She was a deeply spiritual woman who went to mass every day, but who also explored other avenues of spiritual expression. She was always so unconditionally loving and accepting and real in the way that she related to the world that she became a role model, not as a grown up, but more as a cool chick.
At Darrell's funeral she stood up in front of everyone gathered there, having just identified his battered and torn body days before, and told us all that we needed to find it in our hearts to forgive the people who did this, that we should pray that they would find peace, because if we couldn't forive we would not have peace ourselves.
When she and I talked later that week, during a time when we gathered together at her house looking for some kind of solace, she told me that because I had never lost anyone it was probably hard for me to believe that life would go on, but that at 58 she knew that not only would it go on, it would be good.
About six months ago my mom saw her at the beauty parlor. She had been diagnosed with dementia, and she had been slowing down, but she remembered my mother and asked about me. When my mom told me this, I thought - I really need to go see her and tell her how much I appreciate her and how postively she's impacted my life.
In July I went to a friend's reunion and ran into a guy who grew up down the street from Alicia and her family. We talked about them and I asked if he'd seen her. He said that although her husband had died she was still living in the house. I thought - I should stop by there and say hi and tell her how much I love her.
In September I went to Rosh Hashanah at my friend Sally's house. There was a woman there who'd grown up in the same city I did. Turns out she'd been best friends with Alicia's youngest daughter although they hadn't spoken in a while. As we talked I thought - note to self, call Alicia and see when you can come visit.
And in the ensuing weeks I thought about her everyday and remembered how much I enjoy her and how it would be so good to see her again and how I really really really wanted to let her know that she has reverberated in my life for all these years although I haven't seen her since the early 90s.
Last night, after writing about Darrell, I googled his name to see if there was anything on the internet about him. There wasn't. What I found was a memorial page for Alicia with entries from October 30, 2008 - the date of the visitation held at her church.
I found her obituary.
She died on October 25th and her funeral mass was today at 11:00 a.m.
I am very grateful that I was able to be with her family today and to reconnect with them and express my deep love and appreciation for their mom who was an amazing woman and wonderful friend, but I wish more than anything that I had acted on my desire to say the words to her when she was still around to hear them.
Even with her death she is still teaching me. It's so important to listen to my heart and to do what it tells me - because I don't like feeling regret. Life's just too short.
There was more to Darrell's murder that I didn't write about, but after the events of the past 20 hours I really have record it somewhere.
I had a very close relationship with his family. He was one of 10 kids born to an Irish Catholic mother and an Italian Catholic father. Pretty much everyone who grew up in Long Beach during the 70s went to school with one of the kids. I don't remember my exact entree into the tribe, but by the time I was 20 I was included, along with so many others who weren't actual family members, in dinners and birthdays and holidays.
His mother's name was Alice when I first started hanging out, but at some point over the years she decided that she wanted to called Alicia - she thought it was prettier than Alice, and more importantly she had decided that she was going to make some changes in her life and for that she needed a different name - because she was becoming a different woman.
She had gotten married at 19 and then had 12 or 13 pregnancies and ended up raising 10 children over the next 20 years. When she and I became friends she was starting to look at what she wanted for her life, not in the context of wife or mother, but in addition to. She began traveling all over the world on her own or with one of her kids. Her husband was a navigator for the airlines and did not have a lot of interest in the kind of trips she wanted to take. She went to school and became a licensed esthetician in her 50s and started her own business. She was always heavily involved in boy scouts, even after her kids were long out of it. She loved that community and she would take me with her to various events and jamborees. I don't remember having a big desire to go to something like that, but more that I enjoyed spending time with her and having her to myself so anything we did was an adventure.
She was a devout Catholic and when I shared with her that I had a deep fear of all things Catholic and felt mostly panic in a Catholic church she took me to a mass said in latin which was "illegal" back in those days. She also took me to a huge parade for Our Lady of Guadalupe where there was the blessing of the animals. I still don't feel comfortable in a Catholic church, but I gained a better understanding of the comfort in ritual.
Her home was always open and full of not only her children but also their friends who became extended family. I would stop by on my way home from work or on a Saturday and hang in the kitchen with her. She taught me to make mayonnaise from scratch. She taught me how to make a meal for 15 people with not much more than vegetables and pasta and whoever was there when it was ready would sit down at the looooooooong cafeteria style table with the little stools that fit up under it when we were done.
She was one of the first women who ever talked to me candidly about marriage and parenting in a way that honored all that was good, but was also very realistic about the challenges. She was a deeply spiritual woman who went to mass every day, but who also explored other avenues of spiritual expression. She was always so unconditionally loving and accepting and real in the way that she related to the world that she became a role model, not as a grown up, but more as a cool chick.
At Darrell's funeral she stood up in front of everyone gathered there, having just identified his battered and torn body days before, and told us all that we needed to find it in our hearts to forgive the people who did this, that we should pray that they would find peace, because if we couldn't forive we would not have peace ourselves.
When she and I talked later that week, during a time when we gathered together at her house looking for some kind of solace, she told me that because I had never lost anyone it was probably hard for me to believe that life would go on, but that at 58 she knew that not only would it go on, it would be good.
About six months ago my mom saw her at the beauty parlor. She had been diagnosed with dementia, and she had been slowing down, but she remembered my mother and asked about me. When my mom told me this, I thought - I really need to go see her and tell her how much I appreciate her and how postively she's impacted my life.
In July I went to a friend's reunion and ran into a guy who grew up down the street from Alicia and her family. We talked about them and I asked if he'd seen her. He said that although her husband had died she was still living in the house. I thought - I should stop by there and say hi and tell her how much I love her.
In September I went to Rosh Hashanah at my friend Sally's house. There was a woman there who'd grown up in the same city I did. Turns out she'd been best friends with Alicia's youngest daughter although they hadn't spoken in a while. As we talked I thought - note to self, call Alicia and see when you can come visit.
And in the ensuing weeks I thought about her everyday and remembered how much I enjoy her and how it would be so good to see her again and how I really really really wanted to let her know that she has reverberated in my life for all these years although I haven't seen her since the early 90s.
Last night, after writing about Darrell, I googled his name to see if there was anything on the internet about him. There wasn't. What I found was a memorial page for Alicia with entries from October 30, 2008 - the date of the visitation held at her church.
I found her obituary.
She died on October 25th and her funeral mass was today at 11:00 a.m.
I am very grateful that I was able to be with her family today and to reconnect with them and express my deep love and appreciation for their mom who was an amazing woman and wonderful friend, but I wish more than anything that I had acted on my desire to say the words to her when she was still around to hear them.
Even with her death she is still teaching me. It's so important to listen to my heart and to do what it tells me - because I don't like feeling regret. Life's just too short.
Friday, October 31, 2008
REAL SCARY
I got home from work about 6pm and flipped on the news as I ran to answer the phone. I heard sobbing on the other end of the phone and my friend Risa, between sobs, told me that Darrell was dead.
"What?"
"Darrell's dead. He was murdered."
I heard these words and simultaneously registered the helicopter shot on the 6 o'clock news featuring an overhead view of my friend Darrell's little beach house in Sunset Beach. They were wheeling out a gurney upon which was strapped a black, plastic body bag.
It was October 30, 1984 and the events of that day still seem like something that only happens in a movie. My friend Darrell, who was 25 and his 21 year old girlfriend Stephanie had been tortured and executed, apparently by South American drug dealers.
Darrell was a free spirit, easy going guy who loved surfing and music and travel. After he'd graduated from high school he'd traveled down to Brazil and throughout South America surfing and hanging out and making friends. He had white blonde hair and was always smiling - he surfed every single day. As long as I knew him he never seemed to have a job, and while he didn't have what would be considered a luxurious lifestyle, it was definitely easy living.
There were always people around from his travels who'd come to visit and seemingly stayed - they didn't work either. Cocaine was definitely part of the party, but not in a dark, scary way. It was light and fun and the product was pure and the buzz was excellent. It never occurred to me to question any of it - Why didn't anyone work? Where were the drugs coming from? What were they saying in all the conversations en espanol at the weekend BBQs?
We were all having too much fun.
There were definite warning signs but we were in our 20s and bullet proof so an FBI raid? Ha! Those assholes. Darrell's brother getting busted and then found guilty and sent to prison? An aberration.
Maybe those things were the things that motivated Darrell to make the decisions that he made which lead to his death. We don't really know exactly why he was killed, but the theory has always been that he'd been dealing large quantities of cocaine and made enough money that he felt he could retire and live a simple life at the beach with his girl. Maybe have some kids, get a dog.
We had all gone out to a halloween party on the 29th. Darrells was a clown and Stephanie was a genie - this is how I remember them. Stephanie had left part of her costume at my house and I'd planned to stop by the house at lunch that day to drop it off. I got really busy and couldn't make it so I called and left a message about noon that I would be sure to connect with them before the party that evening.
Their bodies were discovered at 12:45pm by a friend who was staying at the house when he returned from a DMV appointment - he'd been gone for three hours. They were both naked and had numerous stab wounds. Darrell's face was beaten unrecognizable and his hands had been cut off. They had killed Stephanie first - I don't know and don't want to know what they did to her before they killed her.
The police responded and the FBI was involved - no clues were ever found as to who killed them although they believe it was more than one person. They found Darrell's notebook in the phonebooth at the liquor store across the street. It had names in it and numbers - there was talk that Darrell had been skimming, or that his business partners believed that he was stealing, and so he was killed.
Stephanie died because she happened to be there.
I had never experience death so intimately before. No one I knew had died. Not even friends of friends had died. We were a bunch of middle class, suburban white kids and this kind of stuff just didn't happen. Not to us.
Except it did happen.
Most of the foreign "friends" disappeared - quickly. They didn't come to the funeral. We were all overwhelmed by fear and anger and grief and looking for people to blame. Maybe that's why they left, or they could have been more business associates than friends. I will never know.
There's really no way to explain how casual we were with cocaine, in the age of "just say no" and the walking wounded celebrities who are sad illustrations of that old saying, "if you can't be a good example then you'll just have to be a horrible warning," (shout out Amy Winehouse) it's hard to imagine a time when drugs weren't demonized and scary.
But we had fun. A lot of fun. Right up until Darrell was killed.
Halloween has never been a very happy time since. Getting dressed up and partying always carries with it the association of this incredibly tragic and violent event. I am thankful that I got the wake up call and that Darrell's death put an end to my own dabbling in the drug business. Back then it was easy to get in over your head really fast and while Darrell was the first friend I lost he was not the last.
I guess you could say that Halloween scared me straight.
I got home from work about 6pm and flipped on the news as I ran to answer the phone. I heard sobbing on the other end of the phone and my friend Risa, between sobs, told me that Darrell was dead.
"What?"
"Darrell's dead. He was murdered."
I heard these words and simultaneously registered the helicopter shot on the 6 o'clock news featuring an overhead view of my friend Darrell's little beach house in Sunset Beach. They were wheeling out a gurney upon which was strapped a black, plastic body bag.
It was October 30, 1984 and the events of that day still seem like something that only happens in a movie. My friend Darrell, who was 25 and his 21 year old girlfriend Stephanie had been tortured and executed, apparently by South American drug dealers.
Darrell was a free spirit, easy going guy who loved surfing and music and travel. After he'd graduated from high school he'd traveled down to Brazil and throughout South America surfing and hanging out and making friends. He had white blonde hair and was always smiling - he surfed every single day. As long as I knew him he never seemed to have a job, and while he didn't have what would be considered a luxurious lifestyle, it was definitely easy living.
There were always people around from his travels who'd come to visit and seemingly stayed - they didn't work either. Cocaine was definitely part of the party, but not in a dark, scary way. It was light and fun and the product was pure and the buzz was excellent. It never occurred to me to question any of it - Why didn't anyone work? Where were the drugs coming from? What were they saying in all the conversations en espanol at the weekend BBQs?
We were all having too much fun.
There were definite warning signs but we were in our 20s and bullet proof so an FBI raid? Ha! Those assholes. Darrell's brother getting busted and then found guilty and sent to prison? An aberration.
Maybe those things were the things that motivated Darrell to make the decisions that he made which lead to his death. We don't really know exactly why he was killed, but the theory has always been that he'd been dealing large quantities of cocaine and made enough money that he felt he could retire and live a simple life at the beach with his girl. Maybe have some kids, get a dog.
We had all gone out to a halloween party on the 29th. Darrells was a clown and Stephanie was a genie - this is how I remember them. Stephanie had left part of her costume at my house and I'd planned to stop by the house at lunch that day to drop it off. I got really busy and couldn't make it so I called and left a message about noon that I would be sure to connect with them before the party that evening.
Their bodies were discovered at 12:45pm by a friend who was staying at the house when he returned from a DMV appointment - he'd been gone for three hours. They were both naked and had numerous stab wounds. Darrell's face was beaten unrecognizable and his hands had been cut off. They had killed Stephanie first - I don't know and don't want to know what they did to her before they killed her.
The police responded and the FBI was involved - no clues were ever found as to who killed them although they believe it was more than one person. They found Darrell's notebook in the phonebooth at the liquor store across the street. It had names in it and numbers - there was talk that Darrell had been skimming, or that his business partners believed that he was stealing, and so he was killed.
Stephanie died because she happened to be there.
I had never experience death so intimately before. No one I knew had died. Not even friends of friends had died. We were a bunch of middle class, suburban white kids and this kind of stuff just didn't happen. Not to us.
Except it did happen.
Most of the foreign "friends" disappeared - quickly. They didn't come to the funeral. We were all overwhelmed by fear and anger and grief and looking for people to blame. Maybe that's why they left, or they could have been more business associates than friends. I will never know.
There's really no way to explain how casual we were with cocaine, in the age of "just say no" and the walking wounded celebrities who are sad illustrations of that old saying, "if you can't be a good example then you'll just have to be a horrible warning," (shout out Amy Winehouse) it's hard to imagine a time when drugs weren't demonized and scary.
But we had fun. A lot of fun. Right up until Darrell was killed.
Halloween has never been a very happy time since. Getting dressed up and partying always carries with it the association of this incredibly tragic and violent event. I am thankful that I got the wake up call and that Darrell's death put an end to my own dabbling in the drug business. Back then it was easy to get in over your head really fast and while Darrell was the first friend I lost he was not the last.
I guess you could say that Halloween scared me straight.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
One more reason....
Why giving strangers your phone number is scary.
The story goes that Olga was out with her friends, waiting for a cab in front of a club. Delightful Dmitri rushed up to her, ignoring her friends and went all disco with his flirting skills, or psycho - you decide. He told her she was elegant and beautiful and finnagled a business card from her and then he rushed off. Possibly because someone was calling the police inside where he'd just violated a TRO.
Clearly Dmitri doesn't understand that just because a woman gives out a number doesn't mean she wants a call. It might just mean she wants him to go away and figured that if she didn't respond he'd figure it out. I personally think a direct no thank you, I'm not interested, is best and when no means yes I will flat out lie and say that I'm married, I have a boyfriend, I'm a nun, whatever seems most likely to shut them down. Do not by any means say you are a lesbian because for many men that only presents a tittilating challenge. Dmitri would definitely be one of those guys...
UPDATE
If you google "Dmitri the lover" you get this video. This guy is the exception, not the rule, but if you're a woman, who meets one of these "exceptional" men - listen to that voice in your head yelling "RUN"! Rejecting him does not mean you have psychological problems - it means you're very, very sane.
Why giving strangers your phone number is scary.
The story goes that Olga was out with her friends, waiting for a cab in front of a club. Delightful Dmitri rushed up to her, ignoring her friends and went all disco with his flirting skills, or psycho - you decide. He told her she was elegant and beautiful and finnagled a business card from her and then he rushed off. Possibly because someone was calling the police inside where he'd just violated a TRO.
Clearly Dmitri doesn't understand that just because a woman gives out a number doesn't mean she wants a call. It might just mean she wants him to go away and figured that if she didn't respond he'd figure it out. I personally think a direct no thank you, I'm not interested, is best and when no means yes I will flat out lie and say that I'm married, I have a boyfriend, I'm a nun, whatever seems most likely to shut them down. Do not by any means say you are a lesbian because for many men that only presents a tittilating challenge. Dmitri would definitely be one of those guys...
UPDATE
If you google "Dmitri the lover" you get this video. This guy is the exception, not the rule, but if you're a woman, who meets one of these "exceptional" men - listen to that voice in your head yelling "RUN"! Rejecting him does not mean you have psychological problems - it means you're very, very sane.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
AUTUMN FIRES?
Where the heck is the crisp, cool weather featured in poetry and prose about Autumn?
Why is it 85 degrees outside? Why are my lips chapped and my nose bleeding?
Why does every news hour open with urgent voices harkening "red flag warnings" in the brush filled hills and valleys of California?
It seems like every single year, as we roll into October, California catches on fire and burns until Thanksgiving.
Kind of puts a whole new spin on Robert Louis Stevenson's poem - Autumn Fires.
In the other gardens
And all up the vale,
From the autumn bonfires
See the smoke trail!
Pleasant summer over
And all the summer flowers,
The red fire blazes,
The grey smoke towers.
Sing a song of seasons!
Something bright in all!
Flowers in the summer,
Fires in the fall!
Where the heck is the crisp, cool weather featured in poetry and prose about Autumn?
Why is it 85 degrees outside? Why are my lips chapped and my nose bleeding?
Why does every news hour open with urgent voices harkening "red flag warnings" in the brush filled hills and valleys of California?
It seems like every single year, as we roll into October, California catches on fire and burns until Thanksgiving.
Kind of puts a whole new spin on Robert Louis Stevenson's poem - Autumn Fires.
In the other gardens
And all up the vale,
From the autumn bonfires
See the smoke trail!
Pleasant summer over
And all the summer flowers,
The red fire blazes,
The grey smoke towers.
Sing a song of seasons!
Something bright in all!
Flowers in the summer,
Fires in the fall!
Monday, October 20, 2008
DON'T WORRY BE HAPPY...
I heard this new song from the fabulous Michael Franti and Spearhead on the radio a couple weeks ago and it made me car dance. Last week when I was dealing with the fact that we have had to lay off everyone but the last two guys I clicked on this video and it made me feel better. For almost 4 minutes I forgot about everything else and did a little booty shakin', and that was a good thing - so I'm sharing here.
In case anyone else needs a lift.
And I think I just successfully pasted this link into this post so I have learned something new, and that's not a bad way to start a Monday.
The state of the world might suck right now, but I'm gonna find the happy where I can and share it.
I heard this new song from the fabulous Michael Franti and Spearhead on the radio a couple weeks ago and it made me car dance. Last week when I was dealing with the fact that we have had to lay off everyone but the last two guys I clicked on this video and it made me feel better. For almost 4 minutes I forgot about everything else and did a little booty shakin', and that was a good thing - so I'm sharing here.
In case anyone else needs a lift.
And I think I just successfully pasted this link into this post so I have learned something new, and that's not a bad way to start a Monday.
The state of the world might suck right now, but I'm gonna find the happy where I can and share it.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
WHEN YOU BELIEVE IN THINGS....
Last night I went to see Religulous down in Orange County. The theater was pretty much full which surprised me as I kind of expected to see this movie picketed down in the home of the John Birch Society.
I enjoy Bill Maher's humor... to a point. I think he's pretty smart and very sharp, but sometimes he is so snarky as to be completely disrespectful. Sometimes I wonder why why he's so angry and cynical. He is often verges on mean and it makes me feel uncomfortable. I worry that I sometimes act like that during those days when I wonder if maybe there's no such thing as PMS and I'm just a bitch. And then I cry.
But I digress.
Religulous is one of those movies that preaches to a choir that I sing in. I have tried to get religion but I cannot completely buy in. I have been "saved" twice, once in 7th grade when my Presbytarian youth group went on a field trip to a Foursquare Pentacostal church and I succumbed to peer pressure following my friends up to have the preacher lay his hands on me and feel the power of God (I just stood there and he finally shoved me backwards really hard into the waiting arms of the catchers), and once in 10th grade when the cute senior boys went to Calvary Chapel in Costa Mesa and accepted Jesus, so I did too. Both churches had music and dancing and singing and hugging and I enjoyed all of that. What I did not enjoy was the sermonizing which was to my youthful mind a bunch of crazy talk. It sucked the good time out of all the rest of that stuff.
The whole concept of sin was a bummer and there was no way that I could believe in a God who was represented as an old white guy sitting in a chair in the clouds surrounded by angels. When they asked me how it made me feel to think that Jesus was in the room with me when I was having pre-marital sex I thought that Jesus would be pretty pervy to do that.
I eventually discovered Jerry Garcia and the Grateful Dead and found a place where I could have music and singing and dancing and hugging and pretty much the same happy feeling of a collective consciousness along with non-judgmental pre-marital sex.
Bill interviewed a neurotheotist (sp?) who talked about testing people's brains when they were hopped up on God and he said that those scans showed all kinds of colors - I'm pretty sure my brain looked exactly the same way at a Dead show.
So in the movie Bill interviews all kinds of people - mostly from the religious right in the United States. These people scared the shit out of me and had me sitting there with my mouth hanging open. They were at places like the Creation Museum in the state of KY run by a guy who I do believe is batshit crazy although he was definitely given a run for his money by the cast at a theme park in Orlando, FL called the Holy Land Experience, a cement recreation of Jerusalem with a tall, bearded Jesus who re-enacts the crucifixion several times a day for rapt audience members who cry and stand with the arms up in adoration. It's like a super creepy, low budget, kind of psychotic Knott's Berry Farm.
Bill also interviews Mark Pryor the senator from Arkansas (who I bet wishes he never agreed to being interviewed on tape) and Joe Lieberman the senator from Connecticut. Both of these men have extreme religious beliefs that definitely affect their decisions when it comes to making policy for this country. The fact that they are voted into office by people who share those beliefs, as well as those who probably have no idea, frightens me more deeply than I can say.
At one point in his interview with Senator Pryor who believes in revelations -you know the end times where Jesus comes back and all the true believers are taken to live with God - Bill asks him if someone who believes in this possibility wouldn't have a hard time making the world a better place to live in, because, you know, they're going to be in heaven? Pryor just kind of stared at him blankly.
Bill spends time with the Muslims and the Jews, and there are some hilarious moments with the Mormons, but it's the religious right that he focuses on for the most part. The religious right that has been insidiously infiltrating the government of these United States and pushing forth an agenda that is systematically destroying everything that our forefathers, the framers of the constitution, fought a revolution to create.
I have never been able to believe in the stories told by any religion preferring to think of them as parables or illustrations of moral ideals that had a context in the epochs during which they occurred. I tend to think that sane people have an internal moral compass and that the human urge to belong to a group be that family, community or tribe, which can be traced back to a time before we walked upright keeps us adhering to a social contract wherein we don't kill or mess with each other lest we be banished to a cave in the hills so that we don't really need commandments that threaten us with hell should we get out of line. And then there are, of course, actual laws and the consequences of breaking them.
Apparently I am wrong. There are a lot of people in this country and in the world who are considered sane who believe some pretty whacked out stuff and who make choices that affect every single person here based on these beliefs. Many of these people are currently serving in congress. One of them is sitting in the white house.
By the end of movie I totally got why Bill Maher is so pissed off. He's scared that these people are going to create the end times for all of us and seriously what the FUCK?
I am descended from Puritans who came here to escape religious persecution. They settled in Salem, MA in 1630 and they soon got involved in witch burning - some were accused and some were accusers - so I know that believing in things can drive people to do really crazy stuff, but that was the olden days. People don't do that kind of stuff anymore! Not here in the United States! Well, you know what? They do. They shoot doctors who perform abortions. They beat homosexuals to death. They hang people whose skin is a different color, or whose God is different from the one they pray too. It has been happening in small towns in states that are colored red on those election maps and the collective conscious pretends it doesn't happen and the press doesn't mention it so the rest of us don't have any idea until there's a Matthew Shepherd or a James Byrd.
I'm not saying that there aren't a lot of people who go to church and keep it all in perspective, but more and more people are becoming fundamentalist extremists and they aren't Muslims they're "Christians".
Religulous quotes Thomas Jefferson, John Adams and Benjamin Franklin and I had never thought to specifically look and see what these guys really thought about religion and government. I went and took a look at what they said, and they said a lot, although none of it was Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition.
My favorite quote is from Thomas Jefferson who took the New Testament, removed all the fantasy aspects and published The Jefferson bible (The Life and Morals of Jesus of Nazareth) wherein he gives Jesus his props as a truly admirable man who walked the walk he was talking. Jefferson was a fan of Unitarianism which I like to think of as the church of the social worker so it makes sense that he would be a fan of Jesus who was pretty much the first Jewish bleeding heart liberal the bolt of cloth that so many social workers are cut from.
Here is the quote:
Difference of opinion is advantageous in religion. The several sects perform the office of a Censor morum over each other. Is uniformity attainable? Millions of innocent men, women, and children, since the introduction of Christianity, have been burnt, tortured, fined, imprisoned; yet we have not advanced one inch towards uniformity. What has been the effect of coercion? To make one half the world fools, and the other half hypocrites. To support roguery and error all over the earth.
-Thomas Jefferson, Notes on Virginia, 1782
I completely agree. I don't believe in the popular mythology of most religions but I do believe in and respect the right of people the world over to believe in their God (or Gods) or to not believe, and to have conversations about it without fear. I believe that anyone who wants to serve in public office has no right to project their beliefs onto the population, e.g. you can believe in revelations but you cannot destroy the planet because you think the endtimes are around the corner. You can believe in a guy who lives in the clouds with angels but you cannot tell me what I can do with my uterus or with whom I can share the sacrament of marriage.
If you want to be president of the United States then you understand that you are going to serve all people not just the ones who've accepted Jesus as their personal savior and if those "saved" people start behaving as a special interest group who exert pressure to insert their agendas into schools, communities, cities, states and foreign policy then you better make damn sure that they cannot translate their hate into laws.
I know why Bill Maher is pissed off and scared and he summed it up perfectly in the last three minutes of the movie and left me sitting there stunned. I believe that the closing credits rolled over the Talking Heads singing "We're on the Road to Nowhere."
In two weeks we all have a choice to make and if we make the wrong one we are most definitely on that road.
Last night I went to see Religulous down in Orange County. The theater was pretty much full which surprised me as I kind of expected to see this movie picketed down in the home of the John Birch Society.
I enjoy Bill Maher's humor... to a point. I think he's pretty smart and very sharp, but sometimes he is so snarky as to be completely disrespectful. Sometimes I wonder why why he's so angry and cynical. He is often verges on mean and it makes me feel uncomfortable. I worry that I sometimes act like that during those days when I wonder if maybe there's no such thing as PMS and I'm just a bitch. And then I cry.
But I digress.
Religulous is one of those movies that preaches to a choir that I sing in. I have tried to get religion but I cannot completely buy in. I have been "saved" twice, once in 7th grade when my Presbytarian youth group went on a field trip to a Foursquare Pentacostal church and I succumbed to peer pressure following my friends up to have the preacher lay his hands on me and feel the power of God (I just stood there and he finally shoved me backwards really hard into the waiting arms of the catchers), and once in 10th grade when the cute senior boys went to Calvary Chapel in Costa Mesa and accepted Jesus, so I did too. Both churches had music and dancing and singing and hugging and I enjoyed all of that. What I did not enjoy was the sermonizing which was to my youthful mind a bunch of crazy talk. It sucked the good time out of all the rest of that stuff.
The whole concept of sin was a bummer and there was no way that I could believe in a God who was represented as an old white guy sitting in a chair in the clouds surrounded by angels. When they asked me how it made me feel to think that Jesus was in the room with me when I was having pre-marital sex I thought that Jesus would be pretty pervy to do that.
I eventually discovered Jerry Garcia and the Grateful Dead and found a place where I could have music and singing and dancing and hugging and pretty much the same happy feeling of a collective consciousness along with non-judgmental pre-marital sex.
Bill interviewed a neurotheotist (sp?) who talked about testing people's brains when they were hopped up on God and he said that those scans showed all kinds of colors - I'm pretty sure my brain looked exactly the same way at a Dead show.
So in the movie Bill interviews all kinds of people - mostly from the religious right in the United States. These people scared the shit out of me and had me sitting there with my mouth hanging open. They were at places like the Creation Museum in the state of KY run by a guy who I do believe is batshit crazy although he was definitely given a run for his money by the cast at a theme park in Orlando, FL called the Holy Land Experience, a cement recreation of Jerusalem with a tall, bearded Jesus who re-enacts the crucifixion several times a day for rapt audience members who cry and stand with the arms up in adoration. It's like a super creepy, low budget, kind of psychotic Knott's Berry Farm.
Bill also interviews Mark Pryor the senator from Arkansas (who I bet wishes he never agreed to being interviewed on tape) and Joe Lieberman the senator from Connecticut. Both of these men have extreme religious beliefs that definitely affect their decisions when it comes to making policy for this country. The fact that they are voted into office by people who share those beliefs, as well as those who probably have no idea, frightens me more deeply than I can say.
At one point in his interview with Senator Pryor who believes in revelations -you know the end times where Jesus comes back and all the true believers are taken to live with God - Bill asks him if someone who believes in this possibility wouldn't have a hard time making the world a better place to live in, because, you know, they're going to be in heaven? Pryor just kind of stared at him blankly.
Bill spends time with the Muslims and the Jews, and there are some hilarious moments with the Mormons, but it's the religious right that he focuses on for the most part. The religious right that has been insidiously infiltrating the government of these United States and pushing forth an agenda that is systematically destroying everything that our forefathers, the framers of the constitution, fought a revolution to create.
I have never been able to believe in the stories told by any religion preferring to think of them as parables or illustrations of moral ideals that had a context in the epochs during which they occurred. I tend to think that sane people have an internal moral compass and that the human urge to belong to a group be that family, community or tribe, which can be traced back to a time before we walked upright keeps us adhering to a social contract wherein we don't kill or mess with each other lest we be banished to a cave in the hills so that we don't really need commandments that threaten us with hell should we get out of line. And then there are, of course, actual laws and the consequences of breaking them.
Apparently I am wrong. There are a lot of people in this country and in the world who are considered sane who believe some pretty whacked out stuff and who make choices that affect every single person here based on these beliefs. Many of these people are currently serving in congress. One of them is sitting in the white house.
By the end of movie I totally got why Bill Maher is so pissed off. He's scared that these people are going to create the end times for all of us and seriously what the FUCK?
I am descended from Puritans who came here to escape religious persecution. They settled in Salem, MA in 1630 and they soon got involved in witch burning - some were accused and some were accusers - so I know that believing in things can drive people to do really crazy stuff, but that was the olden days. People don't do that kind of stuff anymore! Not here in the United States! Well, you know what? They do. They shoot doctors who perform abortions. They beat homosexuals to death. They hang people whose skin is a different color, or whose God is different from the one they pray too. It has been happening in small towns in states that are colored red on those election maps and the collective conscious pretends it doesn't happen and the press doesn't mention it so the rest of us don't have any idea until there's a Matthew Shepherd or a James Byrd.
I'm not saying that there aren't a lot of people who go to church and keep it all in perspective, but more and more people are becoming fundamentalist extremists and they aren't Muslims they're "Christians".
Religulous quotes Thomas Jefferson, John Adams and Benjamin Franklin and I had never thought to specifically look and see what these guys really thought about religion and government. I went and took a look at what they said, and they said a lot, although none of it was Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition.
My favorite quote is from Thomas Jefferson who took the New Testament, removed all the fantasy aspects and published The Jefferson bible (The Life and Morals of Jesus of Nazareth) wherein he gives Jesus his props as a truly admirable man who walked the walk he was talking. Jefferson was a fan of Unitarianism which I like to think of as the church of the social worker so it makes sense that he would be a fan of Jesus who was pretty much the first Jewish bleeding heart liberal the bolt of cloth that so many social workers are cut from.
Here is the quote:
Difference of opinion is advantageous in religion. The several sects perform the office of a Censor morum over each other. Is uniformity attainable? Millions of innocent men, women, and children, since the introduction of Christianity, have been burnt, tortured, fined, imprisoned; yet we have not advanced one inch towards uniformity. What has been the effect of coercion? To make one half the world fools, and the other half hypocrites. To support roguery and error all over the earth.
-Thomas Jefferson, Notes on Virginia, 1782
I completely agree. I don't believe in the popular mythology of most religions but I do believe in and respect the right of people the world over to believe in their God (or Gods) or to not believe, and to have conversations about it without fear. I believe that anyone who wants to serve in public office has no right to project their beliefs onto the population, e.g. you can believe in revelations but you cannot destroy the planet because you think the endtimes are around the corner. You can believe in a guy who lives in the clouds with angels but you cannot tell me what I can do with my uterus or with whom I can share the sacrament of marriage.
If you want to be president of the United States then you understand that you are going to serve all people not just the ones who've accepted Jesus as their personal savior and if those "saved" people start behaving as a special interest group who exert pressure to insert their agendas into schools, communities, cities, states and foreign policy then you better make damn sure that they cannot translate their hate into laws.
I know why Bill Maher is pissed off and scared and he summed it up perfectly in the last three minutes of the movie and left me sitting there stunned. I believe that the closing credits rolled over the Talking Heads singing "We're on the Road to Nowhere."
In two weeks we all have a choice to make and if we make the wrong one we are most definitely on that road.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
CALL ME!..... OR NOT.
One of my friends had a first date the other night that ended with her hurling the three martinis she drank in the parking lot while her date held her hair out of the way and rubbed her back. If nothing else it was definitely some kind of litmus test because any guy who holds my hair out of the way while I puke is a pretty good egg. He called her and wants to see her again and I think she should be encouraged by that. I mean how much worse could it be than getting drunk, slurring your words and projectile vomiting?
Her friend at work tried to cheer her out of her motification with this story, which is, in fact a great example of how much worse it could be.
This woman, let's call her Julie, had been dating this man, let's call him Mike, for just a short while. They had reached the point in the freshly budding relationship where she spent the night at his house for the first time. In the morning he had to leave for work and left her a key telling her to make herself at home and just lock up and put the key under the mat when she left.
When Julie got up she made herself some coffee. The coffee did what coffee does and she had to poop. This was an incredibly large poop. The kind of poop that is awe inspiring in size. Not at all the kind of poop that you would want your new man to know that you were capable of. Especially not a guy that you really really like - a lot. A guy upon whom you want to make a good impression. Keeping in mind that so many men don't like to even acknowledge that women poop at all she definitely did not want Mike to know that she could produce a poop the size of a baby's arm.
Impressive? Yes! But not exactly what she was going for so soon in their courtship.
So imagine her consternation when she discovered that the toilet would not flush. It's not that she clogged the toilet. No - she never even got the chance. It just would not flush. Dismantling the toilet did not lead to any solution that involved flushing and she was absolutely freaking out.
She called her friend and asked her what to do. Julie's friend gave her advice that, at the time, must have seemed reasonable when faced with the option of leaving a giant log in Mike's toilet.
Her friend told her to fish it out, put it in a ziploc and then take it with her to throw away.
The fact that this seemed like a reasonable suggestion and that she actually did it gives some insight into how very much she did not want Mike to know that she did, in fact, poop.
Completely frazzled from the fishing expedition she got herself ready to go and wrote Mike a note that said, "Had a great time. I really love our connection," and she left it for him on the kitchen counter.
Then she walked out the door....
Leaving the key and the ziploc bag with the giant poop in it on the counter next to the note.
The door had the auto lock in place so she was locked out and that horrifying tableau was locked in and she couldn't get back in the house.
So she changed her phone number.
Mike never pursued any further contact.
I cannot help but wonder if he even tried to call.
One of my friends had a first date the other night that ended with her hurling the three martinis she drank in the parking lot while her date held her hair out of the way and rubbed her back. If nothing else it was definitely some kind of litmus test because any guy who holds my hair out of the way while I puke is a pretty good egg. He called her and wants to see her again and I think she should be encouraged by that. I mean how much worse could it be than getting drunk, slurring your words and projectile vomiting?
Her friend at work tried to cheer her out of her motification with this story, which is, in fact a great example of how much worse it could be.
This woman, let's call her Julie, had been dating this man, let's call him Mike, for just a short while. They had reached the point in the freshly budding relationship where she spent the night at his house for the first time. In the morning he had to leave for work and left her a key telling her to make herself at home and just lock up and put the key under the mat when she left.
When Julie got up she made herself some coffee. The coffee did what coffee does and she had to poop. This was an incredibly large poop. The kind of poop that is awe inspiring in size. Not at all the kind of poop that you would want your new man to know that you were capable of. Especially not a guy that you really really like - a lot. A guy upon whom you want to make a good impression. Keeping in mind that so many men don't like to even acknowledge that women poop at all she definitely did not want Mike to know that she could produce a poop the size of a baby's arm.
Impressive? Yes! But not exactly what she was going for so soon in their courtship.
So imagine her consternation when she discovered that the toilet would not flush. It's not that she clogged the toilet. No - she never even got the chance. It just would not flush. Dismantling the toilet did not lead to any solution that involved flushing and she was absolutely freaking out.
She called her friend and asked her what to do. Julie's friend gave her advice that, at the time, must have seemed reasonable when faced with the option of leaving a giant log in Mike's toilet.
Her friend told her to fish it out, put it in a ziploc and then take it with her to throw away.
The fact that this seemed like a reasonable suggestion and that she actually did it gives some insight into how very much she did not want Mike to know that she did, in fact, poop.
Completely frazzled from the fishing expedition she got herself ready to go and wrote Mike a note that said, "Had a great time. I really love our connection," and she left it for him on the kitchen counter.
Then she walked out the door....
Leaving the key and the ziploc bag with the giant poop in it on the counter next to the note.
The door had the auto lock in place so she was locked out and that horrifying tableau was locked in and she couldn't get back in the house.
So she changed her phone number.
Mike never pursued any further contact.
I cannot help but wonder if he even tried to call.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
TODAY'S THOUGHTS....
Even though I knew Paul Newman was going to die, and soon, I still wasn't ready for it. The pictures that had been posted of him with Martha Stewart at a party last month showed someone who was on their way out. Vanity Fair had a great article about him last month - a tribute really - so I wasn't surprised when I heard that he'd died on Friday. It makes me really sad to think about Joanne having to wake up every day without him after all those years together.
I'm tired of people preaching at me about Barak Obama and this presidential race. My naivete and hope were beaten out of me over the last two elections. I've spent too much time traveling in the mid-west to think that the deep levels of inherent and unadmitted racism in this country aren't a factor in how close the polls are right now. Republicans are not evil retards as so many of my friends are fond of referring to them - they're American citizens with a point of view that differs from my own, but then so are lot of these name calling democrats. I'm feeling like I want to turn off the TV (except for that debate on Thursday night) until it's all said and done.
No more political discussions - unless they're really going to be discussions. I don't want any more lectures from the faithful about how I have to tell the entire country to vote for Obama. You know what? I think people know who they're going to vote for already.
As much as I hate folding the laundry and putting it away it is one of the most meditative activities I know of after cooking.
Today is a good day because it's beautiful outside so I can work in the garden and it's starting to get cool so I can wear a hoodie and football is on so I can watch in between getting stuff done.
I like today.
Even though I knew Paul Newman was going to die, and soon, I still wasn't ready for it. The pictures that had been posted of him with Martha Stewart at a party last month showed someone who was on their way out. Vanity Fair had a great article about him last month - a tribute really - so I wasn't surprised when I heard that he'd died on Friday. It makes me really sad to think about Joanne having to wake up every day without him after all those years together.
I'm tired of people preaching at me about Barak Obama and this presidential race. My naivete and hope were beaten out of me over the last two elections. I've spent too much time traveling in the mid-west to think that the deep levels of inherent and unadmitted racism in this country aren't a factor in how close the polls are right now. Republicans are not evil retards as so many of my friends are fond of referring to them - they're American citizens with a point of view that differs from my own, but then so are lot of these name calling democrats. I'm feeling like I want to turn off the TV (except for that debate on Thursday night) until it's all said and done.
No more political discussions - unless they're really going to be discussions. I don't want any more lectures from the faithful about how I have to tell the entire country to vote for Obama. You know what? I think people know who they're going to vote for already.
As much as I hate folding the laundry and putting it away it is one of the most meditative activities I know of after cooking.
Today is a good day because it's beautiful outside so I can work in the garden and it's starting to get cool so I can wear a hoodie and football is on so I can watch in between getting stuff done.
I like today.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
NOT JUST ANOTHER NIGHT OUT WITH THE GIRLS
Last night I went to see the Sex and the City movie. It was a Friday opening and I don't normally do this but I went with some of the girls in my family and I thought it would be fun. I haven't been to a movie theater in a long time and the one we went to, the Pacific theater in the Grove, is one of my favorites.
I knew it was going to be a popular movie, but I hadn't counted on Star Wars circa 1975 type line or the cheer that went up when the opening titles came on the screen.
OHMYGOD!
We went to the 5:05 show and the line went all the way down past Crate and Barrel, around the curve at Nordstroms and headed toward Abercrombie and Fitch. It was a battle to find four seats together and while you might think, or at least I thought, the theater would be mostly women, this was not in fact the case. It was probably 30% gay men and their girl gangs.
Again - OHMYGOD!
The movie was good, but I didn't need to see it on the big screen. SJP looks frighteningly gaunt on the big screen as her thoroughbred legs tottered around on her Manolos. I was scared she might end up like Eight Belles. Without spoiling anything I found her performance to be very courageous as far as personal vanity goes - so kudos to her.
The movie aside what I experienced at the theater that I haven't in a really long time is the kind of buzz and audience participation, which indicates HUGE box office, the likes of which hasn't been seen in theaters since, well, Star Wars, or Saturday Night Fever or Indiana Jones (the first one). Those were movies that I paid to see over and over again because I couldn't get enough.
I would be willing to bet that at least 1 in 3 people who were at the theater last night will pay to go again. They'll want to go with other friends, maybe the ones that they used to get together with to watch the show when it was on HBO. They'll want to go because they have missed their friends: Carrie, Miranda, Samantha and Charlotte.
Last night I went to see the Sex and the City movie. It was a Friday opening and I don't normally do this but I went with some of the girls in my family and I thought it would be fun. I haven't been to a movie theater in a long time and the one we went to, the Pacific theater in the Grove, is one of my favorites.
I knew it was going to be a popular movie, but I hadn't counted on Star Wars circa 1975 type line or the cheer that went up when the opening titles came on the screen.
OHMYGOD!
We went to the 5:05 show and the line went all the way down past Crate and Barrel, around the curve at Nordstroms and headed toward Abercrombie and Fitch. It was a battle to find four seats together and while you might think, or at least I thought, the theater would be mostly women, this was not in fact the case. It was probably 30% gay men and their girl gangs.
Again - OHMYGOD!
The movie was good, but I didn't need to see it on the big screen. SJP looks frighteningly gaunt on the big screen as her thoroughbred legs tottered around on her Manolos. I was scared she might end up like Eight Belles. Without spoiling anything I found her performance to be very courageous as far as personal vanity goes - so kudos to her.
The movie aside what I experienced at the theater that I haven't in a really long time is the kind of buzz and audience participation, which indicates HUGE box office, the likes of which hasn't been seen in theaters since, well, Star Wars, or Saturday Night Fever or Indiana Jones (the first one). Those were movies that I paid to see over and over again because I couldn't get enough.
I would be willing to bet that at least 1 in 3 people who were at the theater last night will pay to go again. They'll want to go with other friends, maybe the ones that they used to get together with to watch the show when it was on HBO. They'll want to go because they have missed their friends: Carrie, Miranda, Samantha and Charlotte.
I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU CALL IT....
We are in a recession.
A slow down.
A credit crunch.
Interesting times.
It's a cycle and we've been here before, but in my lifetime when this has happened someone else was taking care of me.
I've never had to deal with economic uncertainty like this in my adult life. I think that it's also more challenging for me than ever before because I'm part of a small company that is literally struggling to stay alive every single week. Since the fall of last year we've had 6 million dollars in contracts go "on hold". Buildings that were supposed to be in construction right now are not. So every day we are trying to develop new business in a market that's stone cold.
Scary times.
Feels like a recession to me.
I've had to lay off 4 guys. One of them had a baby the week before I let him go. I desperately want to get a new contract so I can bring him back to work. He calls me to see if we've gotten anything and I tell him that I will let him know, but he should be looking for work, not waiting. He tells me there is no work. Everyone in construction is looking for work.
The other day an investment broker came into the office to meet with Adi who couldn't make the meeting because he was out with bids. I sat down with him to hear what he had to say and he started with, "First of all we're not in a recession." He emphatically supported that statement by telling me that the "numbers" say that the economy is still growing.
I wonder if my former employee with the brand new baby and no job would agree with that statement?
We are in a recession.
A slow down.
A credit crunch.
Interesting times.
It's a cycle and we've been here before, but in my lifetime when this has happened someone else was taking care of me.
I've never had to deal with economic uncertainty like this in my adult life. I think that it's also more challenging for me than ever before because I'm part of a small company that is literally struggling to stay alive every single week. Since the fall of last year we've had 6 million dollars in contracts go "on hold". Buildings that were supposed to be in construction right now are not. So every day we are trying to develop new business in a market that's stone cold.
Scary times.
Feels like a recession to me.
I've had to lay off 4 guys. One of them had a baby the week before I let him go. I desperately want to get a new contract so I can bring him back to work. He calls me to see if we've gotten anything and I tell him that I will let him know, but he should be looking for work, not waiting. He tells me there is no work. Everyone in construction is looking for work.
The other day an investment broker came into the office to meet with Adi who couldn't make the meeting because he was out with bids. I sat down with him to hear what he had to say and he started with, "First of all we're not in a recession." He emphatically supported that statement by telling me that the "numbers" say that the economy is still growing.
I wonder if my former employee with the brand new baby and no job would agree with that statement?
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