12.14.2012
Using my words
I thought I was already having an emotional week, especially after reading My Sister's Keeper in 36 hours and being steeped in the emotions of a mother who is losing her child to a terminal disease. But then today, a 20-year-old kid (the news media have been calling him a “man”) killed
his mother, then went to the elementary school where his mother was a teacher,
and he killed some of her co-workers and a bunch of children. Parents have to figure this sh*t out. How do we figure it out? Where do we go after something like
that?
Many of us imagine in horror what
it would feel like if our kids were the ones who were killed. I was shaking and crying as I drove to school
to pick up my five-year-old, hearing the story unfold on NPR. I find that if I think about it in too much detail, I just freeze and am totally unable to function.
But I know that more than a few parents wonder what it
would feel like if their kid was the one with the gun.
My boys are five and two, so I’m still the parent imagining what would
happen if a gunman walked into their school.
But I know that someday they’ll be teenagers, and I’ll feel on a lot of
days like I don’t understand them, or that they don’t listen to me, and I will
wonder in those days, weeks, or years how to help them, how to fix our relationship. I am sure that this mother, whose son brutally
attacked her, wondered more than once how to do that.
For a multitude of reasons, some parents give up on kids like that. Others pour their hearts and souls and a considerable amount of money into trying to help their troubled kids, and some succeed. Some don’t. Some can't spend the time or the money, and mental health care is, of course, expensive and hard to come by.
He needed more, or different, help than what he was getting, but since I know very little about his mental health, I will say what I do know. He had a lot of guns, and he used them to kill a lot of people very quickly.
I firmly believe that this country can thrive with fewer guns. Maybe America is already broken enough that fewer guns wouldn’t
actually fix our national problem with violence any time soon. But it
would sure as heck make me feel better in the meantime for us to stop acting
like guns are wonderful as long as there are applications and permits,
or that they are there for us to “defend ourselves” from the real criminals…
guns are simply too common. People are
too nonchalant about guns. Gun owners
fear a slippery slope, and so they say, “Yes, I want a hunting rifle to help provide food for my family, so I in turn would like
my neighbor to be able to go out and buy an automatic assault rifle that is
designed to kill multiple people indiscriminately.” And we have to be honest that as guns are
depicted in pop culture, so some people have started to view reality. Far too many people turn to a gun when
they’re looking for an answer to a problem that has no easy answer.
The gun-control conversation is already playing out all over my Facebook
wall and elsewhere, and I think it is a vital (but not the only) piece of this horrible puzzle. To change the national view on gun
control, I'm thinking I need to start a first-amendment niche group
equivalent to the NRA. It could be a
group that vehemently defends people’s rights to own pens. Yes, pens. Pen manufacturers, take a page out of the gun lobby's handbook (but not the pages about killing people). Instead
of fearing that their guns might be
taken away, people could get really worked up about their pen rights,
fearing that their free speech might be quashed, and holding massive
rallies. Then people might just use their WORDS.
My two-year-old has very little impulse control, and his first instinct is to hit when he's angry, so we're telling him multiple times a day to use his words. We're modeling how to talk through emotions instead of resorting to his hands. Parents all over the world are trying to do the same things with their toddlers. And yet we're still raising people who believe that words aren't an effective way to solve problems.
I wish that we could say we lived in a world that was actually peaceful. We have some amazing thinkers, scholars, and writers out there who desperately want peace, but when they get involved in national or international politics, most still fall prey to "might makes right" thinking. War still seems to be the best way for us to get what we want, so we'll use war to get our peace. So how are we supposed to convince our individual citizens that war on a personal level is morally wrong, but on the level of international politics, where thousands of lives are at stake, it's okay? The answer, to me, is that it ultimately shouldn't be okay. But to put a stop to "might makes right", we need an alternative. We need to foster communication and openness. We should seek to understand, not simply to be understood.
Today, it’s hard to figure out much of anything. So I pray.
And I keep those families in my hearts, and hope for peace for the kids
who survived as *they* try to figure it out.
Children. This has
to stop.
Labels: being political, observations, SAHM
- posted by erica 12/14/2012 08:51:00 PM
- 1 comments
11.04.2012
Your vote doesn't count
Okay, I know the standard message is that every vote matters. But in a recent discussion with my husband, I realized I don't believe this, and I'm betting a lot of the rest of you don't believe it, either. We rarely hear of a decision coming down to one vote, except maybe in a classroom or a Girl Scout troop. Or the Supreme Court (um, almost every time). But in the electoral college system, in a country of 300 million people? Nope. Sorry.
Here's the thing, though. VotING counts. It's not the individual vote you cast. It's the act of voting that matters. It's partly because your voice is being heard; I'm a firm believer that you earn your right to complain, whine, cheer, and basically have an opinion on anything political by actually showing up and saying, "Yes, I'm here, and here's my vote." But it's also about much more than which box you mark. It's about the fact that your co-workers and friends know you voted, so you're influencing them and making each of them more likely to vote, too. Your kids, if you have any, know you voted, and they'll grow up caring about it, even if they end up making decisions that are different than yours. And every other person standing in line with you on Election Day, though most of them have places to be and really don't want to stand in a long line, know that you are right there with them, voting. You're keeping each other there. Everyone stands in that long line because they believe it matters. They know that we cast our votes together, and we make these decisions together.
I'm bringing Kent in with me this time, because our polling place is the school right behind our house so we're planning to walk over. Kent is five now, and he is finally old enough to want to come with me since he's been following the election news and cares about the outcome. He was supporting Romney over the summer, but he is squarely his parents' child now and is supporting Obama after the gay marriage discussion. We're thinking doughnuts afterward. I'm just sad that he's going to be asleep before all the election returns come in that night. I still remember how anxious I felt in 1988, the first presidential election I really remember (I was eight), going to bed not knowing who the next president would be and thinking how hard it was going to be to wait until the next morning to find out.
Casting my vote in 2008 felt good. Kind of embarrassingly good. But guess what else felt good? Standing in line with everyone else from my neighborhood, waiting for my turn. I had kind of a goofy grin the whole time. I get an unbelievable feeling of patriotism when I think about those radical souls nearly 250 years ago who fought, discussed ideas, wrote eloquently and persuasively, and often died, trying to make sure that they could form a country where everyone had a voice, not just the wealthy and privileged who were born into it. And I feel even more patriotic when I realize that small groups of dedicated individuals went on over the centuries to guarantee those rights to every single adult citizen of our country. 100 years ago, I wouldn't have been allowed to vote. But we evolved.
So do I vote? Yep. Even in the most meager of local elections. And Louisiana seriously wrote the book on meager local elections, so we had a lot of practice in the last nine years.
Do I vote in presidential elections? Every single time. And I get goosebumps every single time. I still have the sweater I was wearing in 2000 when I voted for Al Gore.
Do I believe that my individual vote is going to be the deciding vote? Not a chance. But if I stand up and vote, *and* I spread the word, and everyone who reads this makes a plan for how and when they're getting to their polling place on Tuesday, then I'll feel like my voice is being heard in more ways than one.
Plus, there's that amazing high if the person you voted for actually wins.
Here's the thing, though. VotING counts. It's not the individual vote you cast. It's the act of voting that matters. It's partly because your voice is being heard; I'm a firm believer that you earn your right to complain, whine, cheer, and basically have an opinion on anything political by actually showing up and saying, "Yes, I'm here, and here's my vote." But it's also about much more than which box you mark. It's about the fact that your co-workers and friends know you voted, so you're influencing them and making each of them more likely to vote, too. Your kids, if you have any, know you voted, and they'll grow up caring about it, even if they end up making decisions that are different than yours. And every other person standing in line with you on Election Day, though most of them have places to be and really don't want to stand in a long line, know that you are right there with them, voting. You're keeping each other there. Everyone stands in that long line because they believe it matters. They know that we cast our votes together, and we make these decisions together.
I'm bringing Kent in with me this time, because our polling place is the school right behind our house so we're planning to walk over. Kent is five now, and he is finally old enough to want to come with me since he's been following the election news and cares about the outcome. He was supporting Romney over the summer, but he is squarely his parents' child now and is supporting Obama after the gay marriage discussion. We're thinking doughnuts afterward. I'm just sad that he's going to be asleep before all the election returns come in that night. I still remember how anxious I felt in 1988, the first presidential election I really remember (I was eight), going to bed not knowing who the next president would be and thinking how hard it was going to be to wait until the next morning to find out.
Casting my vote in 2008 felt good. Kind of embarrassingly good. But guess what else felt good? Standing in line with everyone else from my neighborhood, waiting for my turn. I had kind of a goofy grin the whole time. I get an unbelievable feeling of patriotism when I think about those radical souls nearly 250 years ago who fought, discussed ideas, wrote eloquently and persuasively, and often died, trying to make sure that they could form a country where everyone had a voice, not just the wealthy and privileged who were born into it. And I feel even more patriotic when I realize that small groups of dedicated individuals went on over the centuries to guarantee those rights to every single adult citizen of our country. 100 years ago, I wouldn't have been allowed to vote. But we evolved.
So do I vote? Yep. Even in the most meager of local elections. And Louisiana seriously wrote the book on meager local elections, so we had a lot of practice in the last nine years.
Do I vote in presidential elections? Every single time. And I get goosebumps every single time. I still have the sweater I was wearing in 2000 when I voted for Al Gore.
Do I believe that my individual vote is going to be the deciding vote? Not a chance. But if I stand up and vote, *and* I spread the word, and everyone who reads this makes a plan for how and when they're getting to their polling place on Tuesday, then I'll feel like my voice is being heard in more ways than one.
Plus, there's that amazing high if the person you voted for actually wins.
Labels: being political, Kent, observations
- posted by erica 11/04/2012 08:31:00 PM
- 2 comments
9.28.2012
When it gets personal
I’ve been wanting to have a conversation with Kent about
gay marriage for a long time now, ever since I found out last year about
Chick-Fil-A’s “charitable” contributions to Focus on the Family. We had been regular attendees with friends at
Chick-Fil-A’s family night, scoring a free kid’s meal and fun activities and
generally enjoying the kind employees and kid-friendly atmosphere. I thought Chick-Fil-A was fantastic. And then I found out almost a year ago that
whenever I bought a salad or a milkshake or a fruit cup for my kids, some of my
money was going to organizations that directly oppose one of my most fervent
beliefs, that of the right of two adults in a loving relationship to marry each
other, even if they happen to be of the same gender. This was long before Chick-Fil-A’s owner had
made public statements about his beliefs, spurring a nationwide debate—I was
having my own private boycott long before that.
When the flames leapt up this summer and suddenly *everyone* was talking
about Chick-Fil-A, I felt more than a little vindicated.
My dad was gay, so this is very personal for me. He and a lot of other people I knew boycotted
Cracker Barrel when it became known that the restaurant chain fired any
employee it found to be gay. (Cracker
Barrel reversed its policy several years later and now explicitly forbids
discrimination against gays and lesbians in its restaurants.) He also told me about visiting San Francisco
and not being able to order Coors in any bar because of the company’s anti-gay
policies and contributions. And while I
agree that a company has a right to contribute money to whichever organizations
they want to support, and even that the COO of a company has the right to say
crazy things, I also have the right not to give them any of my money to use in support of their beliefs.
About a month into my boycott, I found myself hungry,
driving past Chick-Fil-A, and I turned into the parking lot thinking, “Well,
maybe I can just get a sandwich anyway.”
But then I thought about my dad.
And I realized that I couldn’t stomach the idea of even one penny of my
money funding a hate group that saw my dad as less deserving of rights because
he wasn’t heterosexual. It was pretty
easy to turn back around and keep driving at that point.
Kent loved Chick-Fil-A, too, and he definitely noticed
that we weren’t going there anymore. But
he was four, and I had no idea how to explain it to him. The issue is just so big, and simultaneously so
personal, that I was afraid I was just going to start spewing vitriol about the
whole corporation if I got started, and I didn’t want it to be like that. So I skirted the issue each time he asked if
we could go there. I’m not so proud of
that. But I was kind of stuck mentally, turning it over in my head and trying to figure out what level he'd be capable of understanding.
The conversation finally began yesterday. I was talking to a friend about how her son Emerson has decided with Kent that they want to live together when they’re older. Emerson and Kent don’t want to get married necessarily,
just live together and possibly marry other people. (I told my friend that this was a relief to
me, since Kent had previously told us he wants to live with us forever and have
Dean move out. She said jokingly that
maybe Emerson was just planning to move in with *us*. Uh. We’ll hammer out the details later.)
In the same conversation, she mentioned that when
marrying someone of the same gender has come up with her kids, she’s explained
that some states just have “bad rules”, so they’d have to go to a different
state if they want to marry someone of their own gender. Bad rules.
Yes. Brilliant. I had my inspiration.
In the car on the way home from school, I begin. First I talk to him about how most men want
to marry women, but some men want to marry men because that’s who they
love. This makes sense to him (because
seriously, why shouldn’t it just MAKE SENSE??).
I say the same is true for women.
Then I say that unfortunately, not everybody believes that men ought to
be able to marry other men, even if that’s who they love, because they think
that if *most* people are a certain way, they think everyone ought to be that
way. I mention that in Virginia, men can’t
marry other men, but I use the word “yet” and convey to him that I think it’ll
eventually be okay in every state. He
asks about Louisiana, and I say no, it’s not okay in Louisiana either. Yet. Kent
seems to think it’s wildly unfair that men can’t marry men if they want to, if
that’s who they love, and I tell him that of course I agree with him. I tell him I think that by the time he’s a
grown-up, it’ll probably be okay everywhere, but it takes a long time for
people to change their minds. Then I
tell him I would be so sad if I was told that I couldn’t marry the person I
love, and then I ask him what if he had to feel that way, or Dean, or one of
their friends or their cousins? He’s
still worked up about it and can’t understand why anyone would want to prevent
marriage between two people who love each other and want to spend their lives
together.
Yes. Exactly.
We’ve been having another interesting issue in our house
lately surrounding the presidential campaign; namely, Kent supports Mitt
Romney. It literally started with me
talking about how I want President Obama to win the election, him asking,
“Who’s the other guy?”, me answering, “Mitt Romney,” and him saying, “Oh, I
like him better.” I have no doubts that
he supports Romney in an attempt to distance himself ideologically from us,
which is okay, but it makes for interesting conversations. Like what kind of yard signs we’re putting
up. And when I got my Obama sticker in
the mail, he asked when he could get a Romney sticker. Hmm. I
don’t want to quash his interest in politics by totally dismissing his
perspective, but I do feel a bit like an old codger, rolling my eyes and
saying, “You know, these kids today are just totally uninformed when it comes
to politics…”
Anyway, back to our conversation about gay marriage: sensing
an opportunity that I don’t want to let pass, I then mention that one of the
reasons I like President Obama so much is that he believes men ought to be able
to marry men if that’s who they love.
Kent asks, “What about Mitt Romney?”
I tell him Romney doesn’t believe men should be able to do that. Kent asks why. I reiterate how some people think everyone
should be the same, even if that’s not the way they feel or who they are
inside. Kent thinks for a minute, then
says, “Then I agree with Obama.”
MAJOR VICTORY AND DEVELOPMENTAL MILESTONE ALL IN ONE!
I tell him it’s okay to like a candidate and not agree
with everything he says, so it’s okay if he still likes Mitt Romney, but I’ll
be interested to see where this leads, whether we’ll have more substantive
conversations about policy and politics in the coming weeks. That would be very exciting.
I also mention that there are different kinds of love,
love you have for your friends, and love you feel for a person you want to
marry, and that he might not feel the second kind until he’s a lot older. But I’m pretty sure he didn’t understand that
part at all. Because at the end of the
conversation, he exclaimed, “I’d better hurry up and marry Emerson while Obama
is still the president!”
We haven’t talked about Chick-Fil-A yet. He hardly ever asks anymore anyway, but I
figure if Chick-Fil-A comes up, he’ll already have a framework for understanding
why I won’t eat there anymore. And hey,
maybe Chick-Fil-A will make some progress, not just the hemming and hawing they’re
doing right now, and we might actually eat there again. I did like their salads. I would happily reward them for changing
their minds, because, as is becoming increasingly clear in our national conversation,
it *is* possible to be Christian and pro-gay marriage. I shied away from calling myself a Christian
in high school and college, because I felt like the Religious Right had a
stranglehold on Jesus and there wasn’t any room for me.
Thank God, literally, that that isn’t the case.
Labels: being political, church, Kent, my dad, observations, tying the knot
- posted by erica 9/28/2012 05:46:00 PM
- 7 comments
5.13.2010
Love is...
...hot-gluing fifty tiny pompoms to a piece of felt so your son can make his own American flag.Kent is very interested in flags these days. It started with the American flag, which he used to go around saying was "for Obama," before I explained to him that it was for our country. I thought it was cute that he would say, "That flag is also for Obama!" every time he saw one, but at some point the kid needs to learn that we don't live in a monarchy or a tyranny where the flag is synonymous with the leader. So I explained the United States to him as best I could, and now he says, "That's the American flag for our country!" He's just *so* excited. I realized he was over-generalizing yesterday when we were watching The Sound of Music and he said that both the Austrian flag and the Nazi flag were American flags. Hmm. When I told him what the Nazi flag was (leaving out certain horrors of the Holocaust), he said he wanted it to be an American flag. Someday, he'll learn about VE Day and the end of WWII, and he'll be thrilled. R. Kent, Imperialist.
Anyway, I saw the need for him to understand that different flags mean different things, so we're going to be making a few flags out of felt. I think if I make all the pieces, and he puts them together while looking at a picture of the flag, it'll be both flag lesson and spatial/art perception lesson. I was thinking we'd start with the U.S., Ireland and France (where Jack and I spent time, respectively), and maybe Canada and Mexico, but dang, the Mexican flag is hard. I don't want to be all Arizonan and dismiss the Mexican flag, though. We'll have to find a way around that.
Lest you think I'm raising some kid with a heightened sense of international awareness, the main trick as I see it will be keeping him from pulling the fifty white pompoms off. Wish us luck.
Labels: being political, craftiness, Kent, photography
- posted by erica 5/13/2010 09:20:00 AM
- 1 comments
1.20.2010
One year out
Today is the anniversary of President Obama's inauguration, but it's also another milestone: it's the anniversary of the day I resigned from my PhD program. So much went into that decision, and then it was over so quickly as Kent and I walked from one university office to another, gathering signatures from people who didn't care who I was or that I was leaving. And then we had our Inauguration Party that evening, the best application of a party I can think of in recent memory. The coolness of the blue O-shaped ice was nothing compared to the sheer optimism we all felt.
I reinvented myself in this past year, just as our country did. We were both stuck up until that point, restricted by the decisions and choices of the previous few years and badly in need of a change of perspective. We needed to loose our bonds, to look beyond ourselves, and to get back to what made us tick in the first place.
I'm free now, and I don't look back. I don't miss academia. To put it bluntly, the pursuit of knowledge for its own sake in a closed institution feels small to me, when the other things I can do with my life seem so much bigger.
Though I'm "just" a mom right now, I see so many possibilities for service and volunteering when my children get a little older. Maybe a mission trip to Haiti, or fundraising or a trip to Africa with my uncle, and certainly doing more locally to combat economic imbalance. And I still may teach. I love teaching. As one of my former students who *thought* s/he was writing a negative review of me said, "She loves music and thinks everyone else should love it, too!"
Just as I said I would, I have started reading for pleasure. I was on an African literature kick for a while: Cry, the Beloved Country, Where Rain Clouds Gather, Maru, and Things Fall Apart. Then I moved through a few classics, including a mind-blowing reread of The Awakening, which my 11th grade English teacher told us we *had* to reread when we were 29. I've never forgotten that, and now I understand how brilliant she was to recommend it. I'm now relishing Three Cups of Tea, a work of nonfiction about a man whose failed mountain-climbing expedition on K2 led to a lifelong commitment to helping build schools in the some of the poorest mountain villages in Pakistan. I hadn't read for pleasure in years, with only the rarest exception here and there. Now I feel free in this regard as well, not only to read uplifting novels with a global perspective to give me some idea of what to do with my time and talents, but also to spend more time reading about parenting and education philosophy to help me be a better mother. And yes, I do feel like a better mother now, despite the emotional battles and challenges of life with a two-and-a-half-year-old.
That two-and-a-half-year-old is about to be a big brother, a circumstance I never would have thought of attempting while I was still slogging through a PhD. It's bringing us so much happiness and fulfillment as a family, knowing we're expanding this little circle of love we've carved out here in the swamp.
One year out: no regrets.
Jack recently confided to me that he didn't quite understand my decision at the time, or maybe he thought I was temporarily insane or that I'd come to regret it soon. Maybe some of you felt that way as well. But he gets it now. He trusted me, just as I needed him to, because he's an incredible man.
My parenting group/playgroup has an online discussion board, and there's been a thread recently entitled "What did you want to be when you grew up?" with my friends chiming in about how their life plan evolved as they got older, where their education led them, etc. Most, but not all, of my friends in this group are stay-at-home moms, so their responses have been varied and fascinating. I haven't crafted a response yet, and I'm not sure that I will. I feel like I'm still writing my story. I love where I am at this point, but it feels to me sometimes that I'm not using my degree — even though I don't think I wasted my time, it's difficult to put the whole thing into context.
But I'm happy. Even on sad or difficult days, I'm happy, and I wouldn't change a thing.
I reinvented myself in this past year, just as our country did. We were both stuck up until that point, restricted by the decisions and choices of the previous few years and badly in need of a change of perspective. We needed to loose our bonds, to look beyond ourselves, and to get back to what made us tick in the first place.
I'm free now, and I don't look back. I don't miss academia. To put it bluntly, the pursuit of knowledge for its own sake in a closed institution feels small to me, when the other things I can do with my life seem so much bigger.
Though I'm "just" a mom right now, I see so many possibilities for service and volunteering when my children get a little older. Maybe a mission trip to Haiti, or fundraising or a trip to Africa with my uncle, and certainly doing more locally to combat economic imbalance. And I still may teach. I love teaching. As one of my former students who *thought* s/he was writing a negative review of me said, "She loves music and thinks everyone else should love it, too!"
Just as I said I would, I have started reading for pleasure. I was on an African literature kick for a while: Cry, the Beloved Country, Where Rain Clouds Gather, Maru, and Things Fall Apart. Then I moved through a few classics, including a mind-blowing reread of The Awakening, which my 11th grade English teacher told us we *had* to reread when we were 29. I've never forgotten that, and now I understand how brilliant she was to recommend it. I'm now relishing Three Cups of Tea, a work of nonfiction about a man whose failed mountain-climbing expedition on K2 led to a lifelong commitment to helping build schools in the some of the poorest mountain villages in Pakistan. I hadn't read for pleasure in years, with only the rarest exception here and there. Now I feel free in this regard as well, not only to read uplifting novels with a global perspective to give me some idea of what to do with my time and talents, but also to spend more time reading about parenting and education philosophy to help me be a better mother. And yes, I do feel like a better mother now, despite the emotional battles and challenges of life with a two-and-a-half-year-old.
That two-and-a-half-year-old is about to be a big brother, a circumstance I never would have thought of attempting while I was still slogging through a PhD. It's bringing us so much happiness and fulfillment as a family, knowing we're expanding this little circle of love we've carved out here in the swamp.
One year out: no regrets.
Jack recently confided to me that he didn't quite understand my decision at the time, or maybe he thought I was temporarily insane or that I'd come to regret it soon. Maybe some of you felt that way as well. But he gets it now. He trusted me, just as I needed him to, because he's an incredible man.
My parenting group/playgroup has an online discussion board, and there's been a thread recently entitled "What did you want to be when you grew up?" with my friends chiming in about how their life plan evolved as they got older, where their education led them, etc. Most, but not all, of my friends in this group are stay-at-home moms, so their responses have been varied and fascinating. I haven't crafted a response yet, and I'm not sure that I will. I feel like I'm still writing my story. I love where I am at this point, but it feels to me sometimes that I'm not using my degree — even though I don't think I wasted my time, it's difficult to put the whole thing into context.
But I'm happy. Even on sad or difficult days, I'm happy, and I wouldn't change a thing.
Labels: being political, Freude, SAHM, what to read
- posted by erica 1/20/2010 08:41:00 AM
- 4 comments
7.20.2009
That's quite a transformation
I get lots of giggles at watching closed-captioning, especially of live things like news and sports broadcasts, when the typist often seems to be listening with half of one ear and typing words that bear some phonetic resemblance but no shared meaning to the word that was said.
While I was watching CNN on Friday, I saw a quote that I'm sure bore a typo or an omission of some sort. See for yourself.
"Our African-American president will soon be a Latina Supreme Court judge."
Giggle.
While I was watching CNN on Friday, I saw a quote that I'm sure bore a typo or an omission of some sort. See for yourself.
"Our African-American president will soon be a Latina Supreme Court judge."
Giggle.
Labels: being political, observations
- posted by erica 7/20/2009 03:12:00 PM
- 2 comments
1.25.2009
Weird week
So fo' realz, our family is tired of being sick. I spent a good bit of my day Friday trying to clean Kent up after repeated throwing up (including at a playdate at the local museum, twice at home, then three times in the car throughout the day), taking him to an unimpressive substitute pediatrician because ours was out of the office, not figuring out what was wrong, then watching him mostly get better anyway. She had narrowed it down to a sinus infection (with too much snot in his tummy making him throw up) or a stomach virus... so we were just kind of guessing at treatment.
On Saturday, though, we were all feeling good, so we had a lovely lunch and Wii session at Matt and Steph's. We played Mario Kart, and it was also Jack's and my first time playing Guitar Hero, which I rocked. Such fun. We came home, and by Saturday evening, Kent had thrown up again, Jack was sick, and I was on my way. Last night was decidedly un-fun for the parental units here; every time I woke up last night from snot issues, Jack seemed to be in the bathroom for some reason or another, and Kent woke up a couple of times, so I spent a lot of time getting him back to sleep when really I just wanted to crawl back under the covers. Today was my day to get hit hard, while Jack is on the road to recovery, mostly. But seriously, the strep a few weeks ago stunk, so I thought we had earned a pass or something not to be sick for a while.
I decided to take a shower after we put Kent to bed tonight, and that has helped me feel like a non-gross person, even though my overabundance of snot continues to work its way through my system. I would like to be better, please. Okay, thanks.
Other news from this past week mostly centers around Tuesday. The Inauguration: awesome. I cried a little as we heard Wolf Blitzer interrupt the musicians at noon ET to let us know that Obama was now the president, even though he hadn't yet taken the oath. I tried to explain to Kent how cool the whole thing was. He was pointing at the screen and saying "Baba" (his version of "Obama").
Kent and I met Jack for lunch that day, then went to campus so that I could officially resign from the university. It was entirely too easy to get the form from the graduate school, then take it to the registrar and the bursar's office for signatures and be done with it. After the woman at the bursar's office said, "Okay, you're officially resigned," and I walked out of the building, I teared up. It was too quick, and I felt like someone from the university should have wanted to talk to me about my decision or wish me well or something. Nobody did. I turned in a letter of resignation to the grad school office when I got my form, but nobody read it. Such is life at a giant university, I guess, but I felt like there should have been more of a fuss made out of this major decision. They probably have students resign all the time, but to me, it was a big deal. Kent and I had to take a walk down to Highland Coffees so I could drown my sorrows with a mocha latte, and I have to say, it wasn't as satisfying as I'd hoped it would be. I guess no cup of coffee could bolster me enough after such a crazy day.
So with all of that suddenly behind me, I brought Kent home and we got ready for our party. It was a great success, with a few little boys playing in various rooms of the house, friends from school/church/my mommy group getting to know each other, and yummy food (even though I forgot to make the stuffed mushrooms I had planned and to put out the bag of red, white, and blue Terra chips I had bought). Mary and Gaines (Kent's sometime babysitters) brought a king cake, and then Gaines got the baby, which was kind of funny since the person who finds the baby in his/her slice of cake is supposed to provide the cake for the next year's get-together. We also watched McCain's concession speech and Obama's victory speech from election night, which I can't bring myself to delete from our DVR, and then we watched the recorded Inauguration festivities from that morning so that everyone who hadn't a chance to watch/listen to the speech could do so. Several of my friends later remarked that it was nice to be with people who wanted to celebrate the Inauguration, since much of Louisiana is a sea of bitter red voters.
One note from Tuesday: did anyone else notice that as the Obamas were escorting the Bushes onto the helicopter, President Bush saluted President Obama for like half a second? I have no idea whether this is traditional or whether he was just feeling moved in the moment, but I still appreciated it. I always want to believe that he's a real person, and that salute confirmed it.
It's now bedtime for the sickos in Baton Rouge. Here's hoping tomorrow has less snot and no throwing up.
On Saturday, though, we were all feeling good, so we had a lovely lunch and Wii session at Matt and Steph's. We played Mario Kart, and it was also Jack's and my first time playing Guitar Hero, which I rocked. Such fun. We came home, and by Saturday evening, Kent had thrown up again, Jack was sick, and I was on my way. Last night was decidedly un-fun for the parental units here; every time I woke up last night from snot issues, Jack seemed to be in the bathroom for some reason or another, and Kent woke up a couple of times, so I spent a lot of time getting him back to sleep when really I just wanted to crawl back under the covers. Today was my day to get hit hard, while Jack is on the road to recovery, mostly. But seriously, the strep a few weeks ago stunk, so I thought we had earned a pass or something not to be sick for a while.
I decided to take a shower after we put Kent to bed tonight, and that has helped me feel like a non-gross person, even though my overabundance of snot continues to work its way through my system. I would like to be better, please. Okay, thanks.
Other news from this past week mostly centers around Tuesday. The Inauguration: awesome. I cried a little as we heard Wolf Blitzer interrupt the musicians at noon ET to let us know that Obama was now the president, even though he hadn't yet taken the oath. I tried to explain to Kent how cool the whole thing was. He was pointing at the screen and saying "Baba" (his version of "Obama").
Kent and I met Jack for lunch that day, then went to campus so that I could officially resign from the university. It was entirely too easy to get the form from the graduate school, then take it to the registrar and the bursar's office for signatures and be done with it. After the woman at the bursar's office said, "Okay, you're officially resigned," and I walked out of the building, I teared up. It was too quick, and I felt like someone from the university should have wanted to talk to me about my decision or wish me well or something. Nobody did. I turned in a letter of resignation to the grad school office when I got my form, but nobody read it. Such is life at a giant university, I guess, but I felt like there should have been more of a fuss made out of this major decision. They probably have students resign all the time, but to me, it was a big deal. Kent and I had to take a walk down to Highland Coffees so I could drown my sorrows with a mocha latte, and I have to say, it wasn't as satisfying as I'd hoped it would be. I guess no cup of coffee could bolster me enough after such a crazy day.
So with all of that suddenly behind me, I brought Kent home and we got ready for our party. It was a great success, with a few little boys playing in various rooms of the house, friends from school/church/my mommy group getting to know each other, and yummy food (even though I forgot to make the stuffed mushrooms I had planned and to put out the bag of red, white, and blue Terra chips I had bought). Mary and Gaines (Kent's sometime babysitters) brought a king cake, and then Gaines got the baby, which was kind of funny since the person who finds the baby in his/her slice of cake is supposed to provide the cake for the next year's get-together. We also watched McCain's concession speech and Obama's victory speech from election night, which I can't bring myself to delete from our DVR, and then we watched the recorded Inauguration festivities from that morning so that everyone who hadn't a chance to watch/listen to the speech could do so. Several of my friends later remarked that it was nice to be with people who wanted to celebrate the Inauguration, since much of Louisiana is a sea of bitter red voters.
One note from Tuesday: did anyone else notice that as the Obamas were escorting the Bushes onto the helicopter, President Bush saluted President Obama for like half a second? I have no idea whether this is traditional or whether he was just feeling moved in the moment, but I still appreciated it. I always want to believe that he's a real person, and that salute confirmed it.
It's now bedtime for the sickos in Baton Rouge. Here's hoping tomorrow has less snot and no throwing up.
Labels: being political, dissertation land, under the weather
- posted by erica 1/25/2009 09:51:00 PM
- 2 comments
1.20.2009
Today's the day
How long have we been seeing stickers that say 1.20.09? A few years? Now it's here. We're very excited about the Inauguration around here. I never would have thought I'd paint my toenails red and blue, but the patriotic spirit is grabbing me.
Preparations for our little gathering are coming together. I made the mistake of buying balloons yesterday, thinking I was being smart and planning ahead, but they're looking rather droopy this morning. They might not even be floating by this evening. Oh, well. Nothing can kill my optimism.
We've been trying to teach Kent to say "Obama" for the past several months, and the closest he's come is to say "Baba." That's also what he calls Bobby Flay, incidentally. He's started something new and hilarious, though: when we say "Obama," he says, "Yayyyyy!" and waves his hands in the air. It's his party trick.
The best thing he's learned to say recently, though, is "too." And here's why. Sometimes, when I say "I love you," he answers, "too." It makes me melt. What a sweet boy.
Preparations for our little gathering are coming together. I made the mistake of buying balloons yesterday, thinking I was being smart and planning ahead, but they're looking rather droopy this morning. They might not even be floating by this evening. Oh, well. Nothing can kill my optimism.
We've been trying to teach Kent to say "Obama" for the past several months, and the closest he's come is to say "Baba." That's also what he calls Bobby Flay, incidentally. He's started something new and hilarious, though: when we say "Obama," he says, "Yayyyyy!" and waves his hands in the air. It's his party trick.
The best thing he's learned to say recently, though, is "too." And here's why. Sometimes, when I say "I love you," he answers, "too." It makes me melt. What a sweet boy.
Labels: being political, Kent
- posted by erica 1/20/2009 09:16:00 AM
- 1 comments
1.18.2009
Self-revision
It's over. I'm walking away from my dissertation. I'll never get a doctorate in music theory.
I feel free. Free to have the life I want, instead of feeling trapped in something I was never going to finish. Free to explore all the things I haven't had time to explore. Free from the guilt of not working when I knew I should, and most of all, free from the feeling that I wasn't good enough to get a PhD, because I honestly felt that way all the time.
I never actually believed I could finish a dissertation, not even when I was first starting in the doctoral program. I could imagine what graduation would be like, or teaching, but I didn't ever find a successful dissertation defense to be a plausible outcome. Everyone who goes through this process talks about how difficult it is and how they wonder if they'll ever finish, but this was a different feeling. I didn't realize the difference for a long time, so I just lumped myself in with the rest of the downtrodden doctoral students who eventually finish their degrees and then wonder what they had been so concerned about. I know that when most of you would ask me when I was going to finish my dissertation, I tended to answer, "Probably about a year," whether it was two weeks ago or two years ago. I always felt like it was just a year or so away, but then as I'd get deeper into it, I would realize (over and over) how much more time I still had left. There were always more threads, more reading, more music to consider, and I knew I'd never be able to devote the time to seeking out all of the answers I needed to search for. There was never a definite end in sight. And I didn't feel joy from it anymore, at all.
I'm grateful for the learning that took place, both about music and about myself, and I don't regret starting this degree program for an instant. I don't believe in living that way. Self-awareness often comes at a great price, but I'd never reverse the course of things if it meant that I wouldn't know about myself what I know now. Failed relationships, if we're open to what they have to teach us, can make us stronger and more able to love deeply in the future. An unkind word tossed out to someone we care about, if we explore our motivation for saying it, can lead to deeper communication and a better relationship. And the road not taken, no matter how alluring it may seem in retrospect, probably wasn't the right path at the time, which is why we didn't take it. It certainly would not have brought us to our present. I love my present, and I wouldn't change a thing.
(For the record, I do still have a masters degree, and if I someday decided I wanted to teach again, there are options, like the classes I've taught in the past that I really did love teaching.)
So what now?
Now, I stop feeling guilty about not working on my dissertation. Now, I seek out ways to change the world. Now, I indulge in things like Facebook (which I had avoided joining because I knew that if I joined it, I'd just feel guilty about spending more time not working). I'll spend more mental energy on my family instead of on something that was taking me away from my family. I'll read for pleasure again. This is the first time in my entire life that I'm not thinking about the next step of my academic career. Do you know how freeing that is? Well, most of you probably do, and maybe you didn't give it much thought when you were finishing. But for someone who was feeling as stuck as I was, being able to look beyond academia is just lovely.
Our church service this morning could not have been more perfect. Heartened by the upcoming inauguration, our very liberal pastor spoke eloquently about opening our eyes and hearts to hear God's call to us in an optimistic, but still broken, world. I'm thoroughly excited about service opportunities now that I have the time to devote to them, so everything she said and the hymns she had chosen spoke to me in a really clear way this morning.
Then I talked to my advisor after church, a conversation that went better than I ever could have imagined. He was understanding, saddened by losing me as a student but also very supportive. One of his comments was representative of his entire response, and also my whole thought process about this thing. He said, "The world doesn't need another music theory professor nearly as much as it needs more happy people." I started crying right there on the spot, because it was the most generous and true thing he could have said to me in that moment. I told him that of all the people I've talked to or whose writing I've read who have mentioned their graduate advisors, he's absolutely at the top of the list. I'm glad that I'll still see him at church, because I would hate to lose him in my life.
This week, our country begins to create a new version of itself, and so do I. I think our Inauguration Party is also turning into a New Phase of Life Party. Spreading the news to friends in town will be much more fun if I'm serving them O-shaped hors d'oeuvres and putting blue O-shaped ice in their drinks, as we fantasize about our country's future and about changing the world together.
I feel free. Free to have the life I want, instead of feeling trapped in something I was never going to finish. Free to explore all the things I haven't had time to explore. Free from the guilt of not working when I knew I should, and most of all, free from the feeling that I wasn't good enough to get a PhD, because I honestly felt that way all the time.
I never actually believed I could finish a dissertation, not even when I was first starting in the doctoral program. I could imagine what graduation would be like, or teaching, but I didn't ever find a successful dissertation defense to be a plausible outcome. Everyone who goes through this process talks about how difficult it is and how they wonder if they'll ever finish, but this was a different feeling. I didn't realize the difference for a long time, so I just lumped myself in with the rest of the downtrodden doctoral students who eventually finish their degrees and then wonder what they had been so concerned about. I know that when most of you would ask me when I was going to finish my dissertation, I tended to answer, "Probably about a year," whether it was two weeks ago or two years ago. I always felt like it was just a year or so away, but then as I'd get deeper into it, I would realize (over and over) how much more time I still had left. There were always more threads, more reading, more music to consider, and I knew I'd never be able to devote the time to seeking out all of the answers I needed to search for. There was never a definite end in sight. And I didn't feel joy from it anymore, at all.
I'm grateful for the learning that took place, both about music and about myself, and I don't regret starting this degree program for an instant. I don't believe in living that way. Self-awareness often comes at a great price, but I'd never reverse the course of things if it meant that I wouldn't know about myself what I know now. Failed relationships, if we're open to what they have to teach us, can make us stronger and more able to love deeply in the future. An unkind word tossed out to someone we care about, if we explore our motivation for saying it, can lead to deeper communication and a better relationship. And the road not taken, no matter how alluring it may seem in retrospect, probably wasn't the right path at the time, which is why we didn't take it. It certainly would not have brought us to our present. I love my present, and I wouldn't change a thing.
(For the record, I do still have a masters degree, and if I someday decided I wanted to teach again, there are options, like the classes I've taught in the past that I really did love teaching.)
So what now?
Now, I stop feeling guilty about not working on my dissertation. Now, I seek out ways to change the world. Now, I indulge in things like Facebook (which I had avoided joining because I knew that if I joined it, I'd just feel guilty about spending more time not working). I'll spend more mental energy on my family instead of on something that was taking me away from my family. I'll read for pleasure again. This is the first time in my entire life that I'm not thinking about the next step of my academic career. Do you know how freeing that is? Well, most of you probably do, and maybe you didn't give it much thought when you were finishing. But for someone who was feeling as stuck as I was, being able to look beyond academia is just lovely.
Our church service this morning could not have been more perfect. Heartened by the upcoming inauguration, our very liberal pastor spoke eloquently about opening our eyes and hearts to hear God's call to us in an optimistic, but still broken, world. I'm thoroughly excited about service opportunities now that I have the time to devote to them, so everything she said and the hymns she had chosen spoke to me in a really clear way this morning.
Then I talked to my advisor after church, a conversation that went better than I ever could have imagined. He was understanding, saddened by losing me as a student but also very supportive. One of his comments was representative of his entire response, and also my whole thought process about this thing. He said, "The world doesn't need another music theory professor nearly as much as it needs more happy people." I started crying right there on the spot, because it was the most generous and true thing he could have said to me in that moment. I told him that of all the people I've talked to or whose writing I've read who have mentioned their graduate advisors, he's absolutely at the top of the list. I'm glad that I'll still see him at church, because I would hate to lose him in my life.
This week, our country begins to create a new version of itself, and so do I. I think our Inauguration Party is also turning into a New Phase of Life Party. Spreading the news to friends in town will be much more fun if I'm serving them O-shaped hors d'oeuvres and putting blue O-shaped ice in their drinks, as we fantasize about our country's future and about changing the world together.
Labels: being political, dissertation land, Freude
- posted by erica 1/18/2009 09:33:00 PM
- 6 comments
1.14.2009
Git yer frozen Os here
IKEA is a wonderland, yes. I've said it before. But those of you who've been there, have you ever seen something there and thought, "I NEED that, but I don't know why yet!"? Such was my experience a few years ago, when I bought silicone ice cube trays with heart and O shapes. I just realized this weekend why I needed O-shaped ice: to put in beverages at our Inauguration party next Tuesday, of course! And I'm dyeing them blue.
I've gotten started early on making the ice since it takes a little while, but it's so worth it. My fingertips are getting bluer with each batch, but it's so worth it. I'm also serving a bunch of O-shaped hors d'oeuvres — deviled eggs, round toasts with spinach dip, round fruit and veggie slices, olives, sausage balls, and a big O-shaped pound cake — a bit of work, but it's so worth it. So far we're expecting about 15 people, though a few more may respond this week. I've asked my guests to bring canned food for our local food bank, as well as some CHANGE (get it?) to donate to a charity that we'll all choose together.
Party prepping is fun stuff.
I've gotten started early on making the ice since it takes a little while, but it's so worth it. My fingertips are getting bluer with each batch, but it's so worth it. I'm also serving a bunch of O-shaped hors d'oeuvres — deviled eggs, round toasts with spinach dip, round fruit and veggie slices, olives, sausage balls, and a big O-shaped pound cake — a bit of work, but it's so worth it. So far we're expecting about 15 people, though a few more may respond this week. I've asked my guests to bring canned food for our local food bank, as well as some CHANGE (get it?) to donate to a charity that we'll all choose together.
Party prepping is fun stuff.
Labels: being political, kitchen adventures
- posted by erica 1/14/2009 01:18:00 PM
- 4 comments
New favorite quote
"Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter."
— Martin Luther King, Jr.
(Howard Dean quoted Dr. King as he stepped down as chair of the DNC and left the post to Governor Tim Kaine. What an amazing four years Dean's tenure has been. I've added the quote to my template over at the left, lest we forget to implement this assertion in our daily lives.)
— Martin Luther King, Jr.
(Howard Dean quoted Dr. King as he stepped down as chair of the DNC and left the post to Governor Tim Kaine. What an amazing four years Dean's tenure has been. I've added the quote to my template over at the left, lest we forget to implement this assertion in our daily lives.)
Labels: being political, observations
- posted by erica 1/14/2009 12:07:00 PM
- 0 comments
1.05.2009
Saving handmade toys
Normally, I'm not one for deregulation. Witness the subprime mortgage crisis. In the case of toys, though, I have to stand up and say, "What the?!"
The Consumer Products Safety Commission, acting on terrifying stories about lead in the toys coming out of China that have made children sick, enacted some legislation this year that imposes rigid standards on makers of toys. They have to pay third parties to do extensive safety testing (particularly for lead) on the toys they sell. For the public concerned about corporations that import toys from other countries with lax standards, this is great news. For small businesses and crafty individuals who make and sell toys and other children's products, though, it could mean the end of what they do.
Kent has a lot of handmade toys that we and some of you have gotten him, and they have a special place in my heart. He has wooden trains and cars, handmade puppets, a stuffed rabbit from a craft fair, and lots of other little treasures. I can't imagine not being able to find toys like this in the future, but if makers of unique toys like these are forced out of business because they can't pay a third-party tester, we'll only be able to find toys that are mass-marketed, since only corporations will be able to afford to comply with the new standards. Exceptions should be made for toys made in the United States, Canada, and Europe, countries that already have high safety standards for toys.
Okay, so you get my point. If you agree, go to this helpful site and at least sign their online petition. Toy makers have just over a month to comply with the new standards, so time is running out. Not to be overly dramatic, but, you know, I don't want Mattel and Fisher-Price running the world.
The Consumer Products Safety Commission, acting on terrifying stories about lead in the toys coming out of China that have made children sick, enacted some legislation this year that imposes rigid standards on makers of toys. They have to pay third parties to do extensive safety testing (particularly for lead) on the toys they sell. For the public concerned about corporations that import toys from other countries with lax standards, this is great news. For small businesses and crafty individuals who make and sell toys and other children's products, though, it could mean the end of what they do.
Kent has a lot of handmade toys that we and some of you have gotten him, and they have a special place in my heart. He has wooden trains and cars, handmade puppets, a stuffed rabbit from a craft fair, and lots of other little treasures. I can't imagine not being able to find toys like this in the future, but if makers of unique toys like these are forced out of business because they can't pay a third-party tester, we'll only be able to find toys that are mass-marketed, since only corporations will be able to afford to comply with the new standards. Exceptions should be made for toys made in the United States, Canada, and Europe, countries that already have high safety standards for toys.
Okay, so you get my point. If you agree, go to this helpful site and at least sign their online petition. Toy makers have just over a month to comply with the new standards, so time is running out. Not to be overly dramatic, but, you know, I don't want Mattel and Fisher-Price running the world.
Labels: being political, craftiness
- posted by erica 1/05/2009 04:07:00 PM
- 1 comments
12.29.2008
Anniversary surprise
So guess how Jack and I spent our evening last night? Not celebrating our anniversary in any traditional way, or even assembling a play kitchen... we found ourselves hosting two Obama-supporting cyclists who are biking across the country to the inauguration in January.
We heard a segment last week on NPR's Talk of the Nation about how various people were getting to the inauguration, and Neal Conen was interviewing a guy named Ryan Bowen, a cyclist from Los Angeles who decided he'd bike across the country to DC. He talked about how he slept wherever he could, ate wherever he could, and had a website and blog set up to raise awareness and accept donations, and I thought it sounded like such a cool thing to do. He mentioned that he was in Texas, heading toward Houston, and since we're a few hours on the other side of Houston, presumably right on his path, I dropped him an email on his blog and said we'd be happy to host him or just feed him dinner whenever he was coming through Baton Rouge. He replied and thanked me for the offer, then I wrote him back with our address and phone number, and I didn't hear from him for a couple of days. I figured he'd let me know if he still needed a place to stay, and lo and behold, on Sunday afternoon, I got a call from him that he was a few hours' ride from BR and would love to stay with us if we were still up for it. And he has a friend with him now, a guy named Josh who he found online. Josh is from Dallas and met up with Ryan a few days ago to ride all the way to DC with him.
Ryan and Josh got here around 8, just as I was putting Kent to bed, and we visited with them for a while and served them some Asian veggies with tofu and brown rice; Ryan's a vegetarian and Josh is a vegan, so luckily for them, they happened upon one of the few housewives in Louisiana who knows something to cook for them. Josh remarked that it was his first time eating tofu since he left home, and Ryan said that this food was the closest to his own cooking that he'd eaten on the whole trip. Imagine my delight! They had spent the last few nights in tents, scary restrooms in public parks, etc., so sleeping in beds and being able to take showers was a pretty nice change for them. They're taking things a few days at a time, relying on the publicity from Ryan's interviews on NPR, CNN, and Fox News (!), checking the website to look for people who want to host them along their way, using their PDAs to map out their route and find places to eat, and photographing things along the way. Oh yeah, they both happen to be professional photographers, among other things. They looked at some of my photos last night. I was in heaven.
As part of their welcome to Baton Rouge, they got hit by a guy in a Jeep last night on their way to our house, mostly because it was nighttime and very wet from all the rain we've had; Ryan sustained a muscle injury to his thigh that he's been icing, and they both need bike repairs. The guy who hit them, who happens to be a cyclist himself (proving that *anyone* can hit someone on a bike if they're not paying enough attention), picked them up this morning to take them to a bike repair shop, and they'll come back here in a little while. Ryan said that a lot of his interviewers have asked him what he'd say to Obama if he had his ear for a moment, and he figured out yesterday that he'd tell him this: "More bike lanes!"
Some friends of Ryan's are on their way from Los Angeles in a car to film the last few weeks of his journey, and they just happen to be meeting up with him today, so he'll probably ride with them for a day or two until his leg heals. They have plans to go to New Orleans, even though it's a bit out of the way, and then they're heading across to the east coast and up to DC. Check out the site if you're on the Southern end of the country and want to lend some support.
Crazy, no?
While I was listening to Ryan's interview and the rest of the TOTN segment, I was thinking about how Obama's campaign brought people together in ways they'd never been brought together before (remember the "I am here because of Ashley" story at the end of his race speech last spring?). I feel an obligation to continue what Obama started, now that he's going to be our President. We wanted Obama, and we also craved the unifying spirit he brought with him, so we're helping Ryan and Josh.
It's a good day to be an American.
We heard a segment last week on NPR's Talk of the Nation about how various people were getting to the inauguration, and Neal Conen was interviewing a guy named Ryan Bowen, a cyclist from Los Angeles who decided he'd bike across the country to DC. He talked about how he slept wherever he could, ate wherever he could, and had a website and blog set up to raise awareness and accept donations, and I thought it sounded like such a cool thing to do. He mentioned that he was in Texas, heading toward Houston, and since we're a few hours on the other side of Houston, presumably right on his path, I dropped him an email on his blog and said we'd be happy to host him or just feed him dinner whenever he was coming through Baton Rouge. He replied and thanked me for the offer, then I wrote him back with our address and phone number, and I didn't hear from him for a couple of days. I figured he'd let me know if he still needed a place to stay, and lo and behold, on Sunday afternoon, I got a call from him that he was a few hours' ride from BR and would love to stay with us if we were still up for it. And he has a friend with him now, a guy named Josh who he found online. Josh is from Dallas and met up with Ryan a few days ago to ride all the way to DC with him.
Ryan and Josh got here around 8, just as I was putting Kent to bed, and we visited with them for a while and served them some Asian veggies with tofu and brown rice; Ryan's a vegetarian and Josh is a vegan, so luckily for them, they happened upon one of the few housewives in Louisiana who knows something to cook for them. Josh remarked that it was his first time eating tofu since he left home, and Ryan said that this food was the closest to his own cooking that he'd eaten on the whole trip. Imagine my delight! They had spent the last few nights in tents, scary restrooms in public parks, etc., so sleeping in beds and being able to take showers was a pretty nice change for them. They're taking things a few days at a time, relying on the publicity from Ryan's interviews on NPR, CNN, and Fox News (!), checking the website to look for people who want to host them along their way, using their PDAs to map out their route and find places to eat, and photographing things along the way. Oh yeah, they both happen to be professional photographers, among other things. They looked at some of my photos last night. I was in heaven.
As part of their welcome to Baton Rouge, they got hit by a guy in a Jeep last night on their way to our house, mostly because it was nighttime and very wet from all the rain we've had; Ryan sustained a muscle injury to his thigh that he's been icing, and they both need bike repairs. The guy who hit them, who happens to be a cyclist himself (proving that *anyone* can hit someone on a bike if they're not paying enough attention), picked them up this morning to take them to a bike repair shop, and they'll come back here in a little while. Ryan said that a lot of his interviewers have asked him what he'd say to Obama if he had his ear for a moment, and he figured out yesterday that he'd tell him this: "More bike lanes!"
Some friends of Ryan's are on their way from Los Angeles in a car to film the last few weeks of his journey, and they just happen to be meeting up with him today, so he'll probably ride with them for a day or two until his leg heals. They have plans to go to New Orleans, even though it's a bit out of the way, and then they're heading across to the east coast and up to DC. Check out the site if you're on the Southern end of the country and want to lend some support.
Crazy, no?
While I was listening to Ryan's interview and the rest of the TOTN segment, I was thinking about how Obama's campaign brought people together in ways they'd never been brought together before (remember the "I am here because of Ashley" story at the end of his race speech last spring?). I feel an obligation to continue what Obama started, now that he's going to be our President. We wanted Obama, and we also craved the unifying spirit he brought with him, so we're helping Ryan and Josh.
It's a good day to be an American.
Labels: being political, listening miscellany, observations
- posted by erica 12/29/2008 11:46:00 AM
- 5 comments
11.05.2008
Reclaiming the flag
This is a beautiful week to be an American. I think I'm happier with my country than I've ever been. I've also never been prouder to have come from North Carolina than I am right now. I never thought NC would go for a democrat again, let alone a black democrat.
I was struck as I watched the coverage of people's reactions and Obama's speech that the American flag is for all of us again. After 9/11, it seemed to belong to everyone, but soon thereafter, I felt that it was somehow hijacked by the Bush administration. Some of you probably remember that feeling, that the flag wasn't ours, that the national anthem wasn't ours, if we didn't support the war in Iraq. Obama addressed this in his acceptance speech back in August. Now, I think we get to have our patriotism back. All of us.
I also think we're getting our John McCain back. His speech last night was gracious and inspiring, despite the mob mentality of his fans in the crowd who booed every time he mentioned President-elect Obama and what a great thing Obama has accomplished for this nation. I'm remembering the John McCain I used to like, the one who was a special correspondent for The Daily Show back in 2000, who spoke as he thought, rather than as his misguided advisors told him would be best for his campaign. I'm eager to see him back in the Senate.
I feel very emotional today, knowing that my bright, inquisitive child is growing up in a country that has just elected Barack Obama as its leader. Obama is going to be the first president he remembers. How much of a difference this is going to make for race relations in Kent's generation.
I owned a piece of this campaign, and I was so happy to vote for this man. I reject outright the notion that, as a "blue" voter in a red state, my vote somehow didn't count. It counted. No one person's vote counts for any more or any less than anyone else's. Voting is a social contract; we all agree to uphold our responsibility as citizens of a democracy, and our voices are all heard.
Yes, we did.
I was struck as I watched the coverage of people's reactions and Obama's speech that the American flag is for all of us again. After 9/11, it seemed to belong to everyone, but soon thereafter, I felt that it was somehow hijacked by the Bush administration. Some of you probably remember that feeling, that the flag wasn't ours, that the national anthem wasn't ours, if we didn't support the war in Iraq. Obama addressed this in his acceptance speech back in August. Now, I think we get to have our patriotism back. All of us.
I also think we're getting our John McCain back. His speech last night was gracious and inspiring, despite the mob mentality of his fans in the crowd who booed every time he mentioned President-elect Obama and what a great thing Obama has accomplished for this nation. I'm remembering the John McCain I used to like, the one who was a special correspondent for The Daily Show back in 2000, who spoke as he thought, rather than as his misguided advisors told him would be best for his campaign. I'm eager to see him back in the Senate.
I feel very emotional today, knowing that my bright, inquisitive child is growing up in a country that has just elected Barack Obama as its leader. Obama is going to be the first president he remembers. How much of a difference this is going to make for race relations in Kent's generation.
I owned a piece of this campaign, and I was so happy to vote for this man. I reject outright the notion that, as a "blue" voter in a red state, my vote somehow didn't count. It counted. No one person's vote counts for any more or any less than anyone else's. Voting is a social contract; we all agree to uphold our responsibility as citizens of a democracy, and our voices are all heard.
Yes, we did.
Labels: being political
- posted by erica 11/05/2008 01:50:00 PM
- 3 comments
11.04.2008
What happens in an hour
Jack got up at 6 to go vote, before Kent was even up for the day, and when he got home an hour later, I handed off the newly-awoken boy, grabbed a travel mug of coffee and a book I need to be reading for my diss research, and drove to the polls myself. I waited an hour, and it was a really nice hour. I read for about 20 minutes, then spent the rest of the time just watching the people around me, writing down things I heard, faces I saw, and how it felt to be finally casting a vote for Obama. Electric. We live in a mostly black and VERY pro-Obama area of town, and I kept wondering how many of my neighbors who had come out to vote thought that this day wouldn't be possible in their lifetimes. So here are some of my notes.7:25 — in line
There's a young white guy behind me, studying his notes for a class or an exam, and a young white guy in front of me in the generic white-guy uniform of a light blue oxford shirt and khakis. A young black guy just left after voting, wearing his McDonald's uniform, probably on the way to work. It's strange to think about McDonald's employees voting; I'm not sure why.
There's a young black mom keeping her kids entertained, and another young black mom letting her young daughter sleep on her shoulder. (I saw this mom hold her daughter the entire hour she was there. Simultaneous dedication to voting and to her kid.)
The parking lot is full of SUVs, Cadillacs, pimped out coupes with tinted windows, and a plethora of sedans like my Saturn. This is a cross-section of the American auto market if I ever saw one.
Every so often, I hear someone call into work to report that they're still waiting. I think several times about what this election means to my neighbors, and how many people are putting other parts of their lives on hold to do this thing that matters so much.
After I've been there for half an hour or so, I hear someone drive by who's seeing the line outside, and he rolls down his window and yells "Wooooooo! Go America!" Scattered giggles in the line, and someone remarks that she needed that.
After about 40 minutes, Jack accidentally calls me from his pocket, so I listen to him and Kent watching CNN, hear Kent turn off the TV and say "Bye bye", and finally hang up after the rustling of Jack's pocket takes over the other sounds.
It occurs to me, again, how important this day is.
8:10 — I step through the threshold of the building, still in line. I start to hear the intermittent chirp of the "Cast Your Vote" buttons, and the adrenaline starts. I'm shaking. I hear poll workers spelling and checking everyone's names, the coffee starts to catch up to me, and I just can't believe the whole thing. This is such an unreal election, and I want to remember every second of it.
***
I voted at 8:20, and I was number 165 at our precinct in the first half of the alphabet. Jack was number 69. Juvenile snicker.
Jack and I thought we should go vote first thing in the morning, since he had his exam this afternoon and didn't want to be stuck in line when he needed to be studying, and we both ended up waiting about an hour. Around 10 a.m., when Kent and I went to the grocery store and Jack was studying, we drove by the polls, and there was no line. None. I need to remember the mid-morning thing next time. I thought about waiting, but I didn't want them to get backed up and me be stuck there later in the day with Kent for an hour or two. If I had waited, though, I wouldn't have seen this gathering of my neighbors for such a vital election. It was worth the hour.
Jack and I are glued to CNN and NPR's online projection maps. He's also coming down into a post-exam slump, stuck waiting another two months or so to find out whether or not he passed his Models of Financial Economics exam. He takes an exam every six months, and he has to wait about two months after each one to get the pass/fail notification, so it occurred to me today that he's spending about a third of his life for these several years just waiting for exam results.
We told Kent after we read his books tonight that when he woke up in the morning, we'd have a president. A real president this time, either way, though it looks like things are in our favor now that PA is wrapped up. Shout out to Lauren and Jeannette! Heck, shout out to everyone who voted anywhere, whomever you voted for. This has been an incredible ride.
Labels: being political, husband things
- posted by erica 11/04/2008 08:07:00 PM
- 3 comments
10.30.2008
Craftiness meets politics
Okay, isn't this just so neat? It's going to be given away in a raffle, and all the money goes to the Obama campaign. I love the hand-appliquéd letters, and the colorblocky, but still varied, choice of fabrics. Gorgeous, and what a neat fundraising idea.
Labels: being political, craftiness
- posted by erica 10/30/2008 07:43:00 PM
- 0 comments
10.08.2008
O Pride
One of these things is not like the others... see if you can tell which one.
So everything we ordered from barackobama.com came yesterday, except for our yard sign, which is backordered. Our yard is feeling neglected, I think. I hope it gets here soon! At least we can show our Hope in other ways.
So everything we ordered from barackobama.com came yesterday, except for our yard sign, which is backordered. Our yard is feeling neglected, I think. I hope it gets here soon! At least we can show our Hope in other ways.
Labels: being political, photography
- posted by erica 10/08/2008 07:14:00 PM
- 1 comments
10.07.2008
Real-time debate reactions
Okay, these comments came pretty much right as I thought of them while we were watching the debate tonight. I wanted to do something besides picking 2 or 3 issues discussed in the debate and examining those in detail. Time for a change of pace, at least for tonight.
8:05 — Obama brings up the "fundamentals of the economy are strong" comment, McCain retorts with how he warned of the Fannie and Freddie crisis, but wait, Obama says he's the one who pointed out the deteriorating effects of the subprime mortgage meltdown... didn't we already *have* this debate?
8:10 — Why is John McCain shiny? What in the heck is his suit made out of?
8:20 — McCain is going to attack Obama for wanting to fund a planetarium? Seriously? How can he talk about American innovation and improving education and then not want to fund a planetarium?
8:30 — I love CNN's juxtaposed shots of the GOP watch party and the Democrat watch party. The difference in racial diversity between those two groups is almost palpable.
8:31 — McCain says we can attack health care and the energy crisis at the same time. Sure, we've got two houses of Congress, right? The House can debate the rising costs of health care for a couple of days, the Senate can draft sweeping energy reform, and then they can switch.
8:33 — Did Obama just go back to advocating offshore drilling?
8:34 — Ooh, Obama wants to double the Peace Corps. Very cool idea.
8:37 — McCain once again accuses Obama of the worst thing a Liberal can be accused of: Raising Taxes. Um, Obama would like to raise taxes (on the wealthiest Americans and corporations) to PAY for things, rather than BORROWING more money from China.
8:40 — McCain labels himself a reformer again and talks about not being popular with his party leaders at times. You know he wanted to use the word "maverick," but he probably read the brilliant, satirical Sarah Palin Debate Flow Chart and then thought better of it.
8:45 — I feel so bad for Tom Brokaw, trying to herd these two wildcats into predetermined time limits. He just seems like he wants to yell at them and put them in timeout.
8:49 — Brokaw asks a great question: do we fund another Manhattan-Project-like thinktank to deal with global climate change, or do we fund 100,000 garages across the country? Either one at this point would be awesome in my opinion, just so people are dealing with it, at long last.
8:51 — While Obama is talking, McCain in the background looks like he's giving someone a hand signal. Maybe he wants his chief advisor lobbyist guy to steal third. Incidentally, this is during the question about whether health care should be treated as a commodity; I don't think either candidate understood her question, and I have to admit that I don't get what she's driving at, either.
8:55 — McCain, when talking about Obama's health care plan, says he is always "nervous when government mandates something"... John, would that be like regulation on Wall Street, for example? Did that make you nervous? I think it did, John. And look what's up now.
9:00 — McCain keeps trying to get the crowd on his side by cracking little jokes. There's scattered laughter, but I think McCain is laughing harder than anyone else. He reminds me a little of a professor who thinks his students find him funny, when really they either don't get his sense of humor or think he's just kind of out of it. And I've been one of those profs, so don't think I'm judging him. I lost count of the number of times I tried to joke with my music appreciation students and the jokes just kind of fell flat. Sigh. At least Brokaw is getting some laughs.
(blah, blah, blah, same comments about foreign policy in the Middle East, Ronald Reagan, Teddy Roosevelt, more of the same stuff about foreign policy, blah blah blah)
9:10 — I have a headache from hearing the same infuriating words and divisive statements from both candidates, honestly. I still want my guy to win next month, but this repeated rhetoric is exhausting me.
9:16 — McCain says about Osama Bin Laden, "I know how to get him." So what exactly is he waiting for??
9:18 — Brokaw: "If either of you becomes President, as one of you will..." Is there such a thing as the If/When Police?
9:25 — I like McCain's answer about whether Russia is an evil empire. Sensitive, well-said. I think that if McCain had different political advisors (i.e., not Steve Schmidt, who's responsible for so much of McCain's attack strategy and closing off of the press), more of his campaign would sound like this.
9:28 — I think I have foreign policy ennui. I can't focus on what they're even saying at this point. I'm also very tired.
9:30 — Peggy from Amherst, NH! "What don't you know, and how will you learn it?" Brilliant!
Not nearly as much fun as the VP debate. At least it's over. I'm going to bed.
8:05 — Obama brings up the "fundamentals of the economy are strong" comment, McCain retorts with how he warned of the Fannie and Freddie crisis, but wait, Obama says he's the one who pointed out the deteriorating effects of the subprime mortgage meltdown... didn't we already *have* this debate?
8:10 — Why is John McCain shiny? What in the heck is his suit made out of?
8:20 — McCain is going to attack Obama for wanting to fund a planetarium? Seriously? How can he talk about American innovation and improving education and then not want to fund a planetarium?
8:30 — I love CNN's juxtaposed shots of the GOP watch party and the Democrat watch party. The difference in racial diversity between those two groups is almost palpable.
8:31 — McCain says we can attack health care and the energy crisis at the same time. Sure, we've got two houses of Congress, right? The House can debate the rising costs of health care for a couple of days, the Senate can draft sweeping energy reform, and then they can switch.
8:33 — Did Obama just go back to advocating offshore drilling?
8:34 — Ooh, Obama wants to double the Peace Corps. Very cool idea.
8:37 — McCain once again accuses Obama of the worst thing a Liberal can be accused of: Raising Taxes. Um, Obama would like to raise taxes (on the wealthiest Americans and corporations) to PAY for things, rather than BORROWING more money from China.
8:40 — McCain labels himself a reformer again and talks about not being popular with his party leaders at times. You know he wanted to use the word "maverick," but he probably read the brilliant, satirical Sarah Palin Debate Flow Chart and then thought better of it.
8:45 — I feel so bad for Tom Brokaw, trying to herd these two wildcats into predetermined time limits. He just seems like he wants to yell at them and put them in timeout.
8:49 — Brokaw asks a great question: do we fund another Manhattan-Project-like thinktank to deal with global climate change, or do we fund 100,000 garages across the country? Either one at this point would be awesome in my opinion, just so people are dealing with it, at long last.
8:51 — While Obama is talking, McCain in the background looks like he's giving someone a hand signal. Maybe he wants his chief advisor lobbyist guy to steal third. Incidentally, this is during the question about whether health care should be treated as a commodity; I don't think either candidate understood her question, and I have to admit that I don't get what she's driving at, either.
8:55 — McCain, when talking about Obama's health care plan, says he is always "nervous when government mandates something"... John, would that be like regulation on Wall Street, for example? Did that make you nervous? I think it did, John. And look what's up now.
9:00 — McCain keeps trying to get the crowd on his side by cracking little jokes. There's scattered laughter, but I think McCain is laughing harder than anyone else. He reminds me a little of a professor who thinks his students find him funny, when really they either don't get his sense of humor or think he's just kind of out of it. And I've been one of those profs, so don't think I'm judging him. I lost count of the number of times I tried to joke with my music appreciation students and the jokes just kind of fell flat. Sigh. At least Brokaw is getting some laughs.
(blah, blah, blah, same comments about foreign policy in the Middle East, Ronald Reagan, Teddy Roosevelt, more of the same stuff about foreign policy, blah blah blah)
9:10 — I have a headache from hearing the same infuriating words and divisive statements from both candidates, honestly. I still want my guy to win next month, but this repeated rhetoric is exhausting me.
9:16 — McCain says about Osama Bin Laden, "I know how to get him." So what exactly is he waiting for??
9:18 — Brokaw: "If either of you becomes President, as one of you will..." Is there such a thing as the If/When Police?
9:25 — I like McCain's answer about whether Russia is an evil empire. Sensitive, well-said. I think that if McCain had different political advisors (i.e., not Steve Schmidt, who's responsible for so much of McCain's attack strategy and closing off of the press), more of his campaign would sound like this.
9:28 — I think I have foreign policy ennui. I can't focus on what they're even saying at this point. I'm also very tired.
9:30 — Peggy from Amherst, NH! "What don't you know, and how will you learn it?" Brilliant!
Not nearly as much fun as the VP debate. At least it's over. I'm going to bed.
Labels: being political
- posted by erica 10/07/2008 09:43:00 PM
- 3 comments
