in good company

Deborah Harry (that’s Debbie Harry of Blondie), now 62 years old, proudly sports a swath of gray hair.
And, according to Ronni at Time Goes By, a bunch of gray-haireds who are my kind of people are rocking Northampton Massachusetts:

YouTube has the movie trailer and a whole lot more music video clips. These will get you up and moving, and reminded that you’re never too old to rock ‘n’ roll.

Just watch them offer their rendition of Donna Summer’s “I Will Survive.”

is that the way it was done?

Is that the way it was done before nursing homes and hospices, before miracle drugs and transplants, when old folks died slowly at home, their sons and daughters and grandchildren and cousins all taking turns taking care? The frail old ones, dying only from the final stresses of age and gravity, moved slowly and silently, sleeping through most of those last months, last weeks, last days. Relatives came and went, stayed and shared, while the old ones slept and dreamed and waited, and that was the way it was finally done.
But there are only two of us here to keep watch, to take care. Each day she is more tired, asks to sleep more and more often. Awake, she sits sad and silent, eating slowly in front of the television that she can barely hear anyway. I sometimes still hold her and dance with her late at night, when she’s afraid and won’t sleep. Sometimes I sleep with her to make her feel safe. Sometimes, no matter what we do, she’s up and down all night, wants to eat, wants to go home. “Please, please,” she mutters, unable to tell me what exactly would please her.
Someone cracked my rear passenger side bumper, and I have to go and get an estimate so that I can get it fixed. But then what. My brother would have to get my mother in his car and come with me to drop off (and then pick up) my car from the body shop. It is hard to believe that we know no one around here who can help with that chore so that we wouldn’t have to put my mother through that. I don’t even think that there are taxis in this little town. At least I’ve never seen any. I think I’d better start checking that out.
This is not the way it’s supposed to be done — without friends, without extended family, without a support system. But this is the way my brother insists, and I am too tired to argue any more.
I’d better check the phone book for taxi services.
And I’m still purging and packing and planning. While I cook, and feed, and clean, and sit, and hold, and hope.
ADDENDUM:
Whaddya know. There IS a taxi service right in town! Family or friends would be better, but I’ll settle for a taxi when it comes to getting my car fixed.

star child

No other work of my childhood, and to a very large degree almost entirely at an unconscious level, likely did as much not just to steer me to an eventual appreciation of science fiction, but to an almost innate understanding of how deeply art in general, whether words or pictures or sounds, could implant itself into a person.


So nearly ends a beautifully written memoir by b!X about the death of Arthur C. Clarke and the influence that the movie 2001: A Space Odyssey had on his childhood aspirations and imagination. You should click here and read the whole Star Child post.
Like my son (and, actually, the whole of our family — my daughter’s wedding cake was topped with Luke Skywalker and Princess Leia), I, too, am a lover of the kind of science fiction that not only opens up possible new worlds, but also explores the kind of human spirit that will be necessary to make the best of those worlds.
My first exposure to sci fi was C.S. Lewis’ Perelandra, upon which I stumbled by accident in my Catholic high school’s library. As far as I was ever able to tell, it was the only sci-fi book on the library shelves.
I don’t remember the sequence of my growing love of sci-fi, but I do remember watching Clarke’s movie when it first came out — a night out with my then-husband and another sci-fi fan couple. Our daughter would have been about 5 at that time; I don’t remember her being with us.
But I do still remember the sounds, the visuals, the bone flung into the air that became a space ship, the appearance of the megalith, that last breath-stopping image of the Star Child.
starchild.jpg

going gray

Soon after every birthday, I take a photo of myself. My 68th birthday was last Tuesday, and here I am, way past the time when I would normally touch up my hair color. I’ve begun to go gray:
68.jpg
I took this photo with a new webcam that I just hooked up so that I can video conference with my grandson, who will soon get, from me, one of those indestructible XO laptops that are no longer available for private purchase. It comes equipped with a webcam. In order to buy one for him, I had to buy one for a child in a 3rd world country.
I went to visit my kindergartener grandson and family last Sunday, and I’m sure that, as a result, I have a few more gray hairs. By the time I left on Tuesday, both my daughter and grandson were seriously sick with sinus infections and the construction of a second floor had begun on their home. After I left, the workers had accidentally put two sizable holes in their first floor ceiling, letting the cold in and further endangering their health. You can read about the fiasco on my daughter’s blog.
I wish I could have stayed to help out. My son-in-law has his hands full. He even had to take time off from work because my daughter now has laryngitis and can’t talk at all. Just imagine how that works out with a chatty 5-year old.
Ah, if only there were such a thing as a Star Trek Transporter.

Hillary be damned

I think that Hillary Clinton would be damned by public opinion no matter how she ran her campaign. If she had Barack’s eloquence, charm, and public persona, she would have been damned for being to theatrical, too smooth, not tough enough etc. etc. Oh yes, she’s made too many mistakes in her campaign, but I don’t think that’s the reason there’s so much animosity toward her.
Many American’s love the idea of good vs. evil, the bad vs. the good, and they’ve been handed a perfect opportunity to set up a METAPHORICAL (not racial) black vs. white battle. No grays here (except creeping in on Hillary’s battered head.)
And, despite all of the backlash against Ferraro, I believe that if a white male with Barack’s change agenda AND LACK OF EXPERIENCE were running, he wouldn’t have made it this far.
Oh, wait a minute. A white male with Barack’s change agenda AND CONSIDERABLE EXPERIENCE was running and didn’t make it.
Perhaps what it all just means is the time is right for someone like Barack — a moving, persuasive orator, a symbol of radical change from the status quo (symbolized by his bi-racial ethnicity), someone from a new generation who appeals to the new generation. If he could be canonized by us liberals, he would be called Saint Barack, patron saint of idealists.
So often, timing is everything. And, as we saw on Ellen, Barack’s got the timing down pat.
And late middle-aged, thick waisted, experienced, tough broad Hillary be damned.
But not by me.

powwow at the end of the world

I repost this poem from Jim Culleny’s entry here at 3 quarks daily.

Powwow at the End of the World
Sherman Alexie
I am told by many of you that I must forgive and so I shall
after an Indian woman puts her shoulder to the Grand Coulee Dam
and topples it. I am told by many of you that I must forgive
and so I shall after the floodwaters burst each successive dam
downriver from the Grand Coulee. I am told by many of you
that I must forgive and so I shall after the floodwaters find
their way to the mouth of the Columbia River as it enters the Pacific
and causes all of it to rise. I am told by many of you that I must forgive
and so I shall after the first drop of floodwater is swallowed by that salmon
waiting in the Pacific. I am told by many of you that I must forgive and so I shall
after that salmon swims upstream, through the mouth of the Columbia
and then past the flooded cities, broken dams and abandoned reactors
of Hanford. I am told by many of you that I must forgive and so I shall
after that salmon swims through the mouth of the Spokane River
as it meets the Columbia, then upstream, until it arrives
in the shallows of a secret bay on the reservation where I wait alone.
I am told by many of you that I must forgive and so I shall after
that salmon leaps into the night air above the water, throws
a lightning bolt at the brush near my feet, and starts the fire
which will lead all of the lost Indians home. I am told
by many of you that I must forgive and so I shall
after we Indians have gathered around the fire with that salmon
who has three stories it must tell before sunrise: one story will teach us
how to pray; another story will make us laugh for hours;
the third story will give us reason to dance. I am told by many
of you that I must forgive and so I shall when I am dancing
with my tribe during the powwow at the end of the world.
………………………………………………………………………………….

Sherman Alexie, “The Powwow at the End of the World” from The Summer of Black Widows by Sherman Alexie; Hanging Loose Press.


Meanwhile, all around the rest of us, politicians spin us into oblivion.

ego, power, entitlement, and politics

By now, everyone knows about Spitzer’s fall from grace.
I have found it very interesting that his government colleagues of both parties have not said anything about the the morality of the actions that precipitated his downfall. Instead, the all simply express their concern for Sptizer and his family.
Why are they being so “compassionate” you might wonder.
Duh. It’s because most of them have active extra-marital lives themselves. I found that out decades ago when I worked at my state’s legislature. Hell, everyone there knew what Nelson Rockefeller was involved in long before he died so memorably..
To be a politician, you have to have a strong ego. If you are a successful politician, you will have amassed considerable power that will bolster your ego even further. Ego combined with power generates a sense of entitlement to dispensation from the obligations of ordinary people. Throw in a good dose of testosterone, and, well, just check this out.
In my 30s and pretty enough, I wasn’t working at the legislature more than two months when one legislator, who chatted with me as we waited for an elevator, asked if I would like to accompany him to the Bahamas. Maybe he was kidding; maybe not. (No, I didn’t take him up on it.)
After a while, I became friends with a female on the staff of a still-prominent legislator, who, I found out, had kept a mistress for as long as he’d been there. Having worked for him for many years, she knew all the dirt about him and many other legislators as well. And there was a lot of it. And everyone seemed to obey an unwritten rule to keep it all secret.
And that’s what so puzzling about Spitzer’s actions.
On my way out to my birthday visit with my daughter and family, I was listening to WAMC, where well-known local defense attorney Terry Kindlon began a list of all the things Spitzer did that would guarantee that he would be caught. It’s as though he wanted to be caught.
One radio station listener called in to comment that perhaps Spitzer was going through a mid-life crisis. Whatever it was/is, it sure is a crisis. For such a smart man, he he made really dumb decisions.
Ego, power, entitlement, and politics can be the perfect recipe for hubris (iin it’s modern definition.)
I wonder if all of those other politicians who have their mistresses stashed away in nearby condos are feeling just a little more vulnerable. Yeah. Right.
Ego, power, entitlement, and politics — can’t beat ’em, until they beat you.

this for you

This is for you, my offspring, both of whom have the gift of insightful sight.

Snapshot
Charles Tomlinson
for Yoshikazu Uehata
Your camera
has caught it all, the lit
angle where ceiling and wall
create their corner, the flame
in the grate, the light
down the window frame
and along the hair
of the girl seated there, her face
not quite in focus —that
is as it should be too,
for, once seen, Eden
is in flight from you, and yet
you have it down complete
with the asymmetries
of journal, cushion, cup
all we might have missed
in the gone moment when
we were living it.

Thanks to Jim Culleny‘s daily poetry emails for the above poem.
I wrote a poem long ago about a photograph. And I posted it, along with the image.
And because of that post, I’ve been translated into Chinese by Yan, who left a comment to let me know.
I just love the Web.

is Obama Rove’s Frankenstein?

It’s a long article, but you really need to go here and read it. Excerpts follow:
Evidence of a covert campaign to undermine the presidential primaries is rife, so it’s curious that the Democractic Party and even some within the G.O.P. have ignored the actual elephant in the room this year. That would be Karl Rove. Long accused of rigging the two previous presidential elections, this master of deceit would have us believe that he’s gone off to sit in a corner and write op-eds.
Not so. According to an article in Time magazine published last November, Republicans have been organized in several states to throw their weight behind Senator Barack Obama, the Democratic rival of Hillary Clinton. At least three former fundraisers for President Bush flushed his coffers with cash early on in the race, something the deep pockets haven’t done for any candidate in their own party. With receipts topping $100 million in 2007, the first-term Illinois senator broke the record for contributions. It was a remarkable feat, considering that most Americans had not even heard of him before 2005.
The Time article went on to explain that rank and file Republicans were switching parties this spring to vote for Obama in the Democratic primaries. Though not mentioned in the piece, a group called Republicans for Obama formed in 2006 to expedite the strategy. Many states have open primaries, allowing citizens to vote for any candidate, regardless of their party affiliation. In Nebraska, the Democratic mayor of Omaha publicly rallied Republicans to caucus for Obama on February 9th, according to Fox News Channel. Called crossover voting, the tactic is playing a crucial role in what appears to be a Rove-coordinated effort to deprive Clinton of the nomination. Even with his more well-known dirty tricks arsenal – phone bank sabotage, fake polling data, swiftboating, waitlisting, electronic voting equipment, Norman Hsu, etc. – Rove would be hard pressed to defeat Clinton in November, since she’s generally popular nationwide and has promised an immediate troop withdrawal from Iraq. If the contest isn’t close, the vote-rigging won’t matter. (Several influential Republicans admit as much in a February 11th story for Politico.)
If, on the other hand, Obama wins the nomination (or even the VP spot), Rove’s prospects brighten considerably.

AND
Last year, at the same time she commanded a huge lead in the national polls, political analysts and professional strategists retained by CNN and other broadcast networks began hammering across the notion that “the voters don’t like her”. The adjectives “unlikable”, “divisive” and “polarizing” used to characterize Clinton have been repeated over and over in the same manner that “biological warfare” and “weapons of mass destruction” were employed during the lead-up to the Iraq War. In both cases, the terminology traces back to a cadre of right-wing, neocon ideologues who keep the studio seats warm at Fox News. “There is no candidate on record, a front-runner for a party’s nomination, who has entered the primary season with negatives as high as she has,” Rove told Reuters last August. Earlier this month, Bush’s former senior political advisor joined Fox as a part-time election analyst.
Obama himself recites Rove’s “high negatives” comment in press interviews whenever discussing Clinton. His often bitter criticism of the former First Lady and other “Washington insiders”, who he says want to “boil and stew all the hope out of him”, represents a staple of his core political message. His campaign slogan to the effect of “I’m a uniter, not a divider” is also reminiscent of the Bush 2000 campaign, which Rove managed. Perhaps that’s not suprising when you discover that one of Obama’s speechwriters is Ben Rhodes, the brother of Fox News VP David Rhodes. (Marisa Guthrie, of BC Beat, reported this connection recently.) The latter Rhodes has been with the network since its inception in 1996. You may recall that on election night in November 2000, it was Fox that called Florida for Bush, even though the other networks declared Gore the winner, citing the exit polls. How Fox knew the polls were wrong in advance of the vote tabulation has never been explained
.
I, who have not necessarily been a supporter of Hillary Clinton, am changing my mind.