Category Archive

So long, Molly.

Yesterday I was on my way to a work function that started at 6 p.m. I had stopped to get a sandwich at the bagel shop in my neighborhood and found myself trying to turn left into late afternoon rush hour traffic, so I backtracked to the other side of parking lot and made a speedy right turn. It’s a good feeling, isn’t it, when you think you’ve beaten the system and come out ahead of the game? Sure it is–when it actually works.

But yesterday I found myself trapped in traffic on what I believed would be a shortcut route back to work. I could see traffic stopped in all four directions at the intersection ahead. I could see blue lights flashing. I assumed there was a horrible accident, but it was nearing 5:50 and work was still at least 20 minutes away, so I edged into the empty lane next to me and cut into the parking lot of a shopping center thinking I could avoid the pile-up by going in the opposite direction. When I got to the shopping center exit I found myself–you guessed it–trapped again. Police had the road blocked in all directions. People were out of their cars, milling around the edge of the street, snapping pictures with their camera phones. I was disgusted. Who takes pictures of an accident?

At about that time the woman sitting next to me rolled down her window and another woman, one of the people standing around, walked over to her window and said something to her. After she walked away I pulled up closer to the woman in the car next to me, rolled my window down, and gave her a “what the hell?” shrug. The woman in the car rolled her window down, looked dead at me and said, “That’s your President driving by.”

Yes, folks, the President was in my neighborhood yesterday. He ate at a local barbecue joint and visited a low-performing elementary school to talk about No Child Left Behind. He rode through low-income neighborhoods and waved at people. He caused 45 minute traffic jams.

But here’s the best part. Right before I left home and found myself in this ridiculous mess, I stopped to chat with my neighbor. She asked me, “Did you see your President today?” I replied, “He’s not MY President.” We had a laugh at W’s expense, and I was on my way. And then I was in the parking lot, clueless, thinking there had been a horrible wreck, and the lady next to me looked at me and said, “That’s your President driving by.” Two people in a 30 minute period used the possessive pronoun your to identify the President in conversation with me. Ha. I’d be concerned that I had some pro-Right Wing conservative look about me, but my neighbor and the stranger in the car have something in common that I do not share: they’re black. Apparently, at least in the South, Bush is considered the white folks’ President. I asked a black colleague about this today, and she confirmed it. What scares me is that generally speaking, it’s probably true. So this post is part of my continued effort to bridge the gap, which I started doing yesterday in this conversation with a stranger, the one that started, “That’s your President driving by.”

Me: “He’s not MY President!”
Stranger: (Laughing) “Honey, I know what you mean!”
Me: “Here I thought there was an accident. Now I find out it’s even worse than I thought.”
Stranger: “You’ve got that right–he’s ruined my whole afternoon. I’ve got places to be!”
Me: “Afternoon? He’s ruined the past six years for me. Why should today be any different?”

We both decided we’d vote for Barack Obama if he runs in 2008, and then the police finally let us out and we went our separate ways. People were still standing around with their camera phones at the ready, but I didn’t look back, not even for a second.

So it’s September 11, and I’m already miffed at CNN for rebroadcasting all of their footage from 9/11 in real time. To put it mildly, I just don’t think that was necessary. Then I get to work and numerous colleagues are decked out–I mean, DECKED OUT–in red, white and blue. Long faces and sighs and sad looks abound. THEN I check my school email and learn that there will be a 10 minute 9/11 memorial presentation ON THE INTERCOM during 1st period, right before the mandatory* Pledge of Allegiance. Deep sigh.

Please don’t get me wrong–9/11 was horrific, awful, hideous. You know; I don’t need to tell you. But I question some 9/11 anniversary behavior in the same way I questioned some immediate post-9/11 behavior. The flag pins and bumper stickers and “remember” t-shirts…it all seemed false, a convenient way to make a buck. I know there were sincere citizens of this country who didn’t know what else to do, so they put out their flags and bought bumper stickers and wore those t-shirts, but some of it just made me feel bullied and guilty, like if I didn’t stick a flag on my car’s rear window I was un-American.

Which brings me back to the anniversary. I made the mistake of commenting on the parade of red, white and blue, and I wondered aloud something along the lines of, “Why just today? If we are to truly honor people like Mark Bingham and the NYC firefighters and the countless innocents who died, shouldn’t we remember all the time?” Two things happened. One, my friend L. patiently explained to me that “they” are afraid we’ve become too complacent** and we need to be reminded–hence the CNN rebroadcasts and national remembrance movements. Two, my friend E., who was, in fact, wearing red, white and blue, asked me with a sad look on her face, “Don’t you like being an American?”

There, see? Treason by government standards.

But here’s the thing: I agree with L.–we as Americans do tend to be complacent. We think bad shit isn’t supposed to happen here. Our country was outraged on 9/11, and rightfully so, but what about what happens in other countries every day? Hell, what about what happens in this country every day? Homelessness, hunger, child abduction, murder, not to mention hurricanes, tornadoes, rock slides, earthquakes, floods. We are complacent, but mostly what that means to me is that we are not proactive enough on our own soil; we allow children to be hungry within the same city limits where buildings are razed so newer, nicer buildings can be constructed, where churches spend more money on their marble facades than they do on community outreach, and where the five bucks I spend at my local Starbucks on a muffin and a latte would feed a 1st grader a week’s worth of school lunch.

Don’t I like being an American? Well, it depends. If that means being a flag-carrying citizen and supporting the President and believing for one second that the War in Iraq has much at all to do with 9/11, then no, I don’t. What I do like is knowing that for the most part I live a safe existence. Unlike some people on the planet, I do not have to worry about stepping on a land mine on my way to work every day, or starving to death, or being shot because I’m a woman, or a Christian, or a liberal, or an educator. I have shoes and clothes and a family and enough money to pay my bills. I have an excellent education and a stable job. The medical care I receive on a regular basis assures me that my child has a good shot at entering the world strong and healthy. These are all things most Americans feel they are entitled to–things they deserve. If this is what it means to be an American, then yes, I like being one. But all Americans do not have all of these basic “rights.” What of that? And why doesn’t all of this come with simply being human?

So, uh, what does all this have to do with 9/11***? Well, it bugs me when people pour energy into “remembering” something once in a while, when every day we are surrounded by people and issues that could really use that energy. It bugs me when a day meant to honor our fellow citizens turns into a day of fist-wielding and fear-mongering, all wrought with talk of revenge and triumph. It bugs me when pride is confused with prowess. It bugs me when my fellow Americans can say somebody across the ocean needs to be knocked down but cannot acknowledge that somebody across the street needs to be lifted up. Does that make me guilty of “treason?” Eh, who knows? If so I’m in good company.

*A law was passed in my state last year that in public schools, someone must recite the Pledge aloud so that students can have the opportunity to say it if they please. I interpret that to mean that if you don’t please, you’re within your rights to keep your seat and refrain from pledging. However, in MY school (and probably in countless others), if my principal walks by a classroom and students are not saying the Pledge, she insists that they all stand and recite. I have a MAJOR problem with this. I think it’s a right, not a requirement. I’d love to hear others’ thoughts on this.

**Actually, I think “they” are afraid we’ve become too unafraid to buy into “their” plans, so reminding us of the horrors of 9/11 via all-day footage is a way to rekindle our fear.

***One final word on 9/11: I wasn’t there like some of my Internet friends. You know who you are, and you know about that day in a way I never will. While I’d never directly ask you to talk about it, I do wonder if my anniversary crankiness is colored by the fact that I was watching from a distance. If I need to be told a thing or do, please don’t hesitate.

Conversation between David Letterman and Geena Davis, after Dave asked Geena how “Commander in Chief” was going:

Geena: It’s a hard job being pretend leader of the free world. It’s a heavy burden.”

Letterman: (laughing) “Well, yeah. Just ask George Bush, for God’s sake.”

I just read this in yesterday’s paper. How many more days will Bush be President? I know someone out there is counting.

We hope you’ll drop by in a few days when regularly scheduled programming has returned.

In the meantime, please enjoy this little laugh, compliments of the United States Government.

BUSH PRESIDENTIAL LIBRARY DESTROYED BY FLOOD

Crawford, Texas — A tragic flood this morning destroyed the personal library of President George W. Bush. The flood began in the presidential bathroom where both of the books were kept. Both of his books have been lost. A presidential spokesman said the president was devastated, as he had almost finished coloring the second one. The White House tried to call FEMA, but there was no answer.

Living With the Dead

I spent last night reading about Ashley Judd and her incredible devotion to Youth Aids. I spent the final moments of my planning period this morning talking with a friend about the importance of doing what we can with what we have. I have spent the last hour brainstorming with my 2nd period about how we as a class can contribute to the Katrina relief effort. I have spent the week pondering the truth of Jen’s comment on my last post. My mind and heart are very full, and not in the bad way.

Everywhere I turn there is talk of relief effort for the victims of Katrina. It is easy to feel helpless when there’s not much left of the state employee salary at the end of the month, but there is more to relief than writing a check. My students–14 years old and full of energy and genuine concern for the people of New Orleans–embody this conviction. They have no money of their own, and yet they are prepared to organize a fundraising event that rivals every street fair and fall festival I’ve ever attended. What they have is enthusiasm and desire; they inspire me to do what I can with what I have. I’ve a feeling we’re embarking upon a great journey together, these children and I, and I will keep you posted on our progress. I know they will inspire you as well.

These kids are the reason I feel so strongly about Kanye West’s unscripted comments at a relief telethon last week. It’s not that I disagree with him; President Bush doesn’t care about a lot of things that are important. And Jen is right: it is not wise to ignore the real and obvious divisions that wreak havoc in our country on a daily basis, and the media’s depiction of blacks, gays, Hispanics, Muslims (and the list goes on) is deplorable on so many levels. But the real need now is the safety and well being of thousands upon thousands of people, black, white, gay, straight, Christian and Muslim and Jew. Right now those with the ability to reach the masses should be reminding us that we all have a responsibility to care for our brothers and sisters in New Orleans. When my highly impressionable adolescent students hear one of their favorite musicians blaming race for what’s happening now in the Gulf states, they themselves become agitated about racial issues. They bicker with their classmates, they get angry and defensive, they lash out in the same way Kanye West did. This to me deepens, not heals, the divide, a divide of which I am painfully aware every time I step into my classroom.

And so we press on. I am ashamed to admit that I continue to avoid large doses of the news for many reasons, but today I read a New York Times article about an abandoned body on Union Street in New Orleans. The article included a photograph of the body, a murder victim that’s been left to the elements for several days. “How can this happen in America,” people are asking, and I am reminded of a day almost four years ago when people were asking that same question. How can this happen in America?

Consider this: In Zimbabwe, population 12 million, 1.8 million people have AIDS. In Iran women are beaten for wearing nail polish, and citizens cannot read Jane Eyre or Their Eyes Were Watching God without great personal risk. In Afghanistan little girls are bartered like food and clothing in the name of conflict resolution, and women are systematically raped by armed soldiers. Car bombs are a daily occurrence in the Middle East, and in many European airports travelers are scrutinized by machine gun-wielding security guards. We forget that in many other parts of the world, crime, untreated disease, hunger, filth, violence, terrorism, and fear are a way of life. Here, in the land of plenty, the home of the free, we often lose sight of the world, fail to take care of it as best we can, and then we are left reeling when that world seeps into the fabric of our lives.

Today as volunteers continue to clean up after Katrina, as the layers are peeled back and continuing evidence of the devastation is revealed–on Sunday as we look back on another time when our country was shaken to its core–let’s take some advice from Ghandi and be the change we wish to see in the world, and some initiative from my 9th graders to do what we can with what we have. Namaste.

I started the morning crying my eyes out with Ellen Degeneres, who began her third talk show season today not with a flashy premiere filled with dancing and jokes and uber famous guests, but with a show dedicated to raising awareness, raising money, and raising consciousness. I’m not saying there was no laughter, but in Ellen’s own words, “Things have changed now. I can’t just pretend to do a normal show.” New Orleans is Ellen’s hometown and she has family there, and even if that were not true, Ellen is just that kind of person. She cares about humanity and she’s in a position to make a significant difference when needs arise–and she does so often. She gives, and she facilitates giving. She also makes us laugh and reminds us to dance, things we should do even in the face of terror and fear.

But then I logged on to the Net and read a few of my regular blogs, and the combination heartsick/hopeful/buoyed feeling I acquired during my hour with Ellen dissolved–no, erupted–into fury. In the fine print of a fellow blogger’s most recent post is a link to a story about a conservative Christian group that’s blaming Hurricane Katrina and its aftermath on a gay pride festival that was set to occur in New Orleans this past weekend. This is not a new outcry from the fundamentalists. Apparently last December’s tsunami was thanks to gays and premarital sex, and Jerry Falwell and his little friend Pat Robertson have been blaming Florida hurricanes on the sinful who reside in Miami and Key West for years. And let’s not even talk about all the reasons AIDS is an international crisis.

I have a question? If the Almighty is doling out punishment for sinful behavior–and not just a slap on the wrist, mind you, but life-altering, deadly devastation–why hasn’t Los Angeles fallen into the Pacific by now? And why is Washington, DC still on the map? And New York City, and Provincetown, MA, and Las Vegas? Wait, wait. I’m being narrow minded. If God is truly sending down destruction for sinners, not a single damn one of us should be left on the planet.

I believe there is a God. I believe that old hymn we used to sing in church: God is love. That’s the extent of my religious certainty at this point in my life; everything else is sort of gray and fuzzy. But I’m certain I don’t believe that a God who is the ultimate manifestation of love is in the business of wiping out entire populations and geographic regions as punishment for sin. If that were true we’d have to ask ourselves what those skeletal babies in Africa did to deserve starvation, or what thousands of children in Iraq did to be blown up by any number of military operations, or what kids in our own country do every day to warrant subjugation at the hands of sexual predators and abusive caretakers. And what of the now homeless in Louisiana who couldn’t evacuate because they had no car, no money for gas? Their only “crime” was poverty, so tell me Pastor Falwell, were they just in the wrong place at the wrong time?

The irony of this morning has not escaped me: some so-called Christians blame the gays for what is being called the worst disaster on American soil, and one of America’s most recognizable gay women weeps with the rest of us and then rolls up her sleeves and begins what I know will be a multi-million dollar aid campaign to help those who are affected, some of them her own flesh and blood. What Ellen remembers, and what many “Christians” often forget, is that we are all human. We are not Americans, whites, blacks, Christians, sinners or saints. We’re people. In spite of our differences we are basically the same: we hurt, we feel, we cry. And some of us need help right now. What we don’t need is an outcry of division from the very people who have the power and the voice to draw us all together. Shame on religious groups for attempting to point God’s finger. Shame on the likes of Kanye West and others who are making the relief debacle a racial issue. Shame on every single survivor who has said from the comfort of a living room recliner with the power to change the channel and make the ugliness go away, “It’s their own fault for not evacuating. They should have left when they had a chance.”

I’d say it’s time to start adding and multiplying in the shadow of this crisis. I’m not good at math, but I’m pretty sure division eventually leads to nothing, and that, to me, would be the most egregious sin of all.

Have you heard? Some guys have discovered several new species of slime-mold beetles (no, really, it gets better), and they have decided–are you ready?–to name some of them after Bush, Cheney, and Rumsfeld. Swear to god in heaven. Unfortunatley, to quote the ARTICLE, “the decision to name three slime-mold beetles after Bush, Cheney and Rumsfeld…didn’t have anything to do with physical features.” Of course, it doesn’t say the decision didn’t have anything to do with other choice Bush, Cheney, and Rumsfeld characteristics. Slime is slime, man.

New and improved? 

This is what greeted me on the AOL news page today. It seems our President is…reformed (she says while trying not to choke on her latte). This is the second reference to the President’s “new and improved image” I’ve come across in the past 10 days or so. The accompanying caption is “Bush Seems Confident, Relaxed In Second Term. He’s ‘Impishly Fun’.” Last week a similar picture and caption purported that Bush is more “well spoken, more polished” this go-round.

Let’s see. He may well BE more polished and well spoken this term, as he was likely such an embarrassment to his campaign managers and general staff last term and throughout last year’s election that they deperately cooked up a plan to make him seem smarter. Like a teensy, tinsy little speaker in his ear so he can hear EXACTLY what he’s supposed to be saying, no straying from the script, sir. Or demonic possession. Isn’t Shirley Maclaine a Republican?

Speaking of which. “He’s ‘Impishly Fun’” may well describe behavior that is the result of ecological killing sprees, war games, and a REALLY long power trip. Speculate with me, if you will, what’s going on in the mind of our esteemed leader in the photo above. “Awwww, it’s only a few trees. Where I’m from in Texas we don’t have that many trees, and we get along just fine.” Or, “Now, let’s not get all worked up over nuthin’. What? Oh, uh, sorry, no-thinG-uh. There’s plenty of room for those arctic animals down at Sea World.” Or even, “Oh, now, nobody ever said destroying, uh, rebuilding Iraq was gonna be quick and easy. Relax. Those boys’ll be home in time for Christmas. 2007.”

Ah, well. It just goes to show you, it’s always something. If it’s not one thing, it’s another. We’ve got a President who can’t use the English language as well as Coco the gorilla, or he’s getting rave reviews about his super fun new image and brushed up communication skills. This is the part where I’m supposed to be reminded of little song my grandma/grandma/mother/father used to sing when I was a little girl. Where’s Roseanne Rosannadanna when we need her? I’m afraid I don’t feel much like singing.