Beloved Blogger Gary Turner and his exhausted wife Fiona have brought into the world a lovely baby girl. Welcome, Cameron, to this crazy mixed up world. Blessings on you, little one.

I

An article in today’s newspaper by Newsday’s James Pinkerton likens Mr. Bush to Mr. Magoo. “Quincy Magoo, the cartoon character debuting in 1949, was so myopic that he couldn’t see anything that wasn’t right in front of his face — and even then he would always misinterpret that near object. But once he drew his bead, however wrongly, he wouldn’t let up. ….There’s something Mister Magoo-like about President Bush’s preoccupation with Iraq.”
We have a cartoon for a president. Only no one’s laughing.

I set all of my holiday chores up so that I wouldn’t have to go out to any more crowded shopping malls. Every time during the last two weeks when I took my mom out to get things she wanted, I asked her if she wanted any Christmas cards. She looked at the prices and didn’t want to pay them. She’s getting totally obsessive about not spending any money lately. (At 86 she should just go and get whatever she can afford; she’s not a pauper.)
So, today, she decided that she just had to have a box of Chrismas cards. When I hedged and reminded her that she had insisted on all those other shopping excursions that she didn’t, she got the saddest and most defeated look on her face. All I could think of was how powerless one becomes when one gets that old, doesn’t drive, has trouble walking, is getting cataracts etc. etc. If there’s one thing that I can’t abide it’s feeling powerless. And that’s one thing with which I empathize.
So, off we went to the mall, maneuvering through the steady stream of traffic that would stall for blocks at the traffice lights. But I did it and she got her cards. And I picked up something for b!X and some earrings for myself.

Where else but in Blogaria could three men from different parts of the world band together to share the experiences of waiting for their new babies to be born? And make us all a part of it. Beats me.
But here it is! “Blogsprogs.” They are blogging their babies into existence, and Jeneane eloquently captures the excitement of it all.
Michael O’Connor Clarke, Gary Turner, and Tom Matrullo, you guys give me hope for the future of humankind.

Years ago, someone did my astrological chart. I’m a Pisces. I knew that. The chart also told me that I’m a Capricorn Rising. So, while my head is in the Pisces clouds, my feet know how to plant themselves pretty firmly on the earth. And, boy, am I glad, because otherwise I’d really be a fish up a creek.
I don’t know how Jeneane manages to hang in there. I envy so much of her inner life, but these days, I’m glad I’m me and not her. I put in my time (as a single mother, even) for almost 30 years doing full-time work I mostly liked but sometimes hated, so now I can pay my bills as long as I’m not extravagant. I have a filing cabinet full of poetry — much of it written from some dark scary place — and don’t feel compelled to exorcise any more. So can blog when I feel like it and not when I don’t. And, while I still like to be liked, I really don’t care much if or what the Cluetrain guys think about me.
Most of my demons, having aged along with me, are too tired to plague me any more. So, I can deal with a mother — with whom I never got along that well — who needs me to help her through the rest of her days even though she’s never happy with what I do for her or how I do it. Except maybe my cooking, which I’m much better at than she ever was.
I wish I could share some of my stability with Jeneane. But I have a mother who needs some of it, and an offspring who still needs some of it, and I need to keep the rest for myself. It’s a wonder my feet aren’t bigger than they are! And I DO wish I could still get a glimpse of those clouds every once in a while.
I’ve concluded that everything in life is a trade-off. You can have everything, but not all at the same time. We all make our choices.

Most of the warbloggers out there (or peacebloggers, as I prefer to call some of them) no doubt have no idea who Philip Berrigan was. He was one of my heroes, and he just died from kidney cancer at the age of 79. According to this:
Anti-war activist Philip Berrigan dies at 79
BALTIMORE — The Rev. Philip Berrigan, patriarch of the Roman Catholic antiwar movement, died Friday night of liver and kidney cancer, his family said. He was 79.
He led a group that staged one of the most dramatic protests of the 1960s. They doused homemade napalm on a small bonfire of draft records in a Catonsville, Md., parking lot and ignited a generation of antiwar dissent.
More recently Berrigan helped establish the Plowshares movement, whose members have attacked federal military property in antiwar and antinuclear demonstrations.
By his own account, he spent more than nine years behind bars for committing acts of civil disobedience.
Berrigan’s family said he was diagnosed with cancer two months ago and decided to stop chemotherapy one month ago. His brother, the Rev. Daniel Berrigan, officiated over last rites ceremonies Nov. 30, which was attended by friends and peace activists, family members said.
His brother, Daniel Berrigan, also a priest, was often at Philip’s side leading the opposition to war.
Where are all of today’s Berrigans? I guess they’re too busy molesting young boys.

Excerpt from speech by U.S. Congressman Dennis J. Kucinich at the Praxis Peace Institute Conference held in Dubrovnik, Croatia on Sunday, June 9, 2002.
Citizens across the United States are now uniting in a great cause to establish a Department of Peace, seeking nothing less than the transformation of our society, to make non-violence an organizing principle, to make war archaic through creating a paradigm shift in our culture for human development, for economic and political justice and for violence control. Its work in violence control will be to support disarmament, treaties, peaceful coexistence and peaceful consensus building. Its focus on economic and political justice will examine and enhance resource distribution, human and economic rights and strengthen democratic values.
Domestically, the Department of Peace would address violence in the home, spousal abuse, child abuse, gangs, police-community relations conflicts and work with individuals and groups to achieve changes in attitudes that examine the mythologies of cherished world views, such as ‘violence is inevitable’ or ‘war is inevitable’. Thus it will help with the discovery of new selves and new paths toward peaceful consensus.
The Department of Peace will also address human development and the unique concerns of women and children. It will envision and seek to implement plans for peace education, not simply as a course of study, but as a template for all pursuits of knowledge within formal educational settings. Violence is not inevitable. War is not inevitable. Nonviolence and peace are inevitable. We can make of this world a gift of peace which will confirm the presence of universal spirit in our lives. We can send into the future the gift which will protect our children from fear, from harm, from destruction. Carved inside the pediment which sits atop the marble columns is a sentinel at the entrance to the United States House of Representatives. Standing resolutely inside this “Apotheosis of Democracy” is a woman, a shield by her left side, with her outstretched right arm protecting a child happily sitting at her feet. The child holds the lamp of knowledge under the protection of this patroness.
This wondrous sculpture by Paul Wayland Bartlett, is entitled “Peace Protecting Genius”. Not with nuclear arms, but with a loving maternal arm is the knowing child Genius shielded from harm. This is the promise of hope over fear. This is the promise of love which overcomes all. This is the promise of faith which overcomes doubt. This is the promise of light which overcomes darkness. This is the promise of peace which overcomes war.
I couldn’t have said it better. As a matter of fact, I haven’t said it better.
It’s interesting that the first I heard of this was today in an email asking me to sign a petition supporting the establishment of a Department of Peace. Anyone interesting in expressing an opinion about this effort can do so here.

In college, as part of a course in comparative religion, I remember a discussion of the Catholic belief that during the Mass, the wafer is transformed into the body of Christ. The professor explained that the belief is really that the “accidents” of the wafer remained the same (the color, texture, taste etc. — which always made me gag, btw) but its “essence,” its essential nature, didn’t.
As an aside, that’s the difference between feminism and girlism. Feminism says focus on the essence (admirable human qualities) of a person rather than the accidents (looks, weight, religion, race etc.).
It’s the essence, not the accidents, of all of us that should be why we are respected, admired, employed, served, loved. Maybe we need to start a new human movement called “essentialists.”
This thinking was triggered by a post on Blog Sisters by Brooke Biggs, who works for Anita Roddick who founded The Body Shop and who recently went “undercover” as a “fat person.” Her story and comments are revealing, both for her humanity and how she serves the needs of her customers.
(double posted on Humans First.)

In this post of b!X