This child does not know me . . .

So Sam came by again today.

Unusual because he came by last week.

He went through his mail, tore it up, bitched about my failure to have completed his tax return & told me I had a picture of a socialist on my refrigerator.

Referring to a picture of our president.

And I thought, with infinite sadness, this child does not know me.

Because if our president was a socialist, it would not bother me.

Because I am not opposed, in its most basic forms, to the tenants of socialism.

I do not believe that Barack Obama is a socialist.

More important than Obama & socialism is the fact that I have raised a young man who is probably not a Democrat.  

Weird feeling.

I am sure Jack Ettinger felt the same weird feeling when I told him I would vote Democrat in my first Presidential election.

And when he threw a plate of spaghetti with Jean’s really great meat sauce at me.

I, of course, did not throw anything at Sam.  I did not confront him.

With infinite sadness, I thought:  this child does not know me.

He does not know that we can discuss any difference of opinion, any philosophy, any belief & emerge intact and still loving one another.

And I will not throw a plate of pasta.

That he does not know this is our loss.

I love him.

 

About Choice & Watching Abortions

GOP Legislator Says Women Should Watch Abortions

www.huffingtonpost.com

A Republican state legislator in Arizona reportedly wrote an email to a constituent saying that women should witness an abortion before having an abortion.

So, I have been thinking about this, about Representative Terri Proud, a Republican state legislator for the state of Arizona.

Who reportedly wants women seeking abortions to watch an abortion before committing to the procedure.  (Which, of course begs the question, who films an abortion?)

I have a few questions.

Do women seeking a tubal ligation or a hysterectomy need to watch one before deciding on the procedure?

Do women who require a mastectomy, the removal of the breasts that nurture children & so delight grown men, need to watch one before consenting to the procedure?

Do women who seek relief from a painful, & perhaps deadly, cyst on their ovaries, need to see the procedure before consent?

Do women need to see a mammogram or watch a pelvic exam before consenting to either procedure?

Do women need to watch a vaginal or C-Section birth before bringing a child into this world?

This last question I can answer.

Long before I was pregnant (at the ancient age of 29), I worked as a candy striper at a hospital in El Paso – in the maternity clinic, in the gift shop, in the nursery.

A different time, a different mind set, a different age.

We candystripers got to do a lot of things:  check urine with little strips, sell candy, hold babies, watch as a nurse cleaned up a newborn.  Hold babies.  Feed babies.

Grieve about the little ones who were put at the back, out of the nursery viewing area, because no one was going to come & coo over them.

Watch a priest give the last rites.

And one morning or afternoon, watch a vaginal delivery through a tiny window.

All of which taught me of the wonder & fragility of human life.

None of which inspired me to become a mother or give birth.

No amount of film, no amount of rhetoric, influenced me to become a mother.

My mother, my father, my grandparents & aunts & uncles & cousins & siblings & extended family & friends taught me that parenthood was amazing.  And family even more amazing.

Not a law, not a video, not a threat, not a vaginal ultrasound – none of those things convinced me to give birth.

My choice.

Anticipation

For the past few hours, I have gazed outside the kitchen bay window to see if it is going to actually rain.  I went out to cut some rosemary for marinating salmon & could feel tiny whispers of rain drops on my face & arms.

I love those tiny whispers. 

The wind has picked up – my friend Muriel says the wind was very fierce north of Houston, much earlier than here in the southwest edges of the Swamp.  The wind here comes and goes, promising a change.

But not delivering.

Not even tiny whispers – I have checked.

And so I wonder – will there be a change, or just a whisper, a promise?

THINGS I HAVE LEARNED IN MY FIFTIES

On this day after the anniversary of my entrance into the world, I thought of things I have learned in the last decade: 

Feeding the birds soothes your soul.

Sex after fifty is not just for Tina Turner & Cher.

 

When cooking down a chicken carcass for broth, putting a steamer in the bottom of the pan saves a lot of bone gathering work later.

One does not need to explain covering gray hair.

The Botticelli belly of your thirties is not so attractive anymore.

A Wrinkle in Time, Green Eggs & Ham,  One Hundred Years of Solitude, Song of the Lark & Jane Eyre  & Dickens & Austen do not get old.

Fear is truly not an option

.

Small breasts are your friend – they will never reach your knees.

Always long to be a ladybug on the wall.  People swat & kill flies on the wall.

 Like pixie dust, a little glitter goes a long way.

 When the choice comes between being scintillating & demure, scintillate.

 No one cares if you cannot dance.  Just dance.

 Friends come in all kinds of packages – savor each one.

 If a man you are dating suddenly appears at dinner with his cell phone on vibrate &  checks his messages, it is time to break up.

 Kindness usurps every relationship challenge.

 Your eldest grows up, marries & solidifies replacing you with an amazing young        woman.  This is a good thing.  You can still call him baby.

 It is never too late to learn to knit.  It is never too late to learn anything.

 Climbing trees is still an option – with a ladder.

 Letting go never gets easier – the key is to take a breath, let it go, & move onward.

 Reading Proust is still an option.

And David Tong is the most interesting man in the world.

Politics, Community Activism & My Friend Shirley

So I have been thinking about politics & community activism & my friend Shirley.

I first met Shirley when our sons were in elementary school & Cub Scouts.  She was so vivacious, so bright, so open & caring & giving.  So genuine.

Shirley is currently an Alderwoman on the City Council of this little hamlet called Meadows Place.

And she has been cyber bullied for her stand on certain issues.  She is not alone in her stand.  But she has been targeted.

Shirley is a Conservative, a devout Catholic.  I am a Liberal, not quite convinced that God did not begin as a woman before Patriarchy rewrote Her.  I believe that we pray to the same Being.

When she first asked me to be her friend on Facebook, I was reticent.  I explained to her that I was more than a bit to the left & vocal about my position & I did not want that to come back to haunt her.

Friendship transcends politics, she wrote.

Amazing soul, my friend Shirley.

An amazing soul who is being bullied via email.

Email between friends & family is most certainly a discourse.

Email between colleagues discussing business is most certainly a discourse.

Email designed to intimidate, threaten, & bully is not a discourse.

It is intolerable.  If adults use email to bully, how do we expect our children to behave differently?

My friend Shirley is defiant against the cowardice of threat, intimidation & bullying – she is running for re-election. 

I, and many others, will vote for her & her good name & her grace & her commitment to serving this community.

To the group who bullied Shirley, the only remaining woman on the city council,  I can only say what my mother Jean has cautioned me to not say:  "I just don't fucking think so."

PS:  Jean understands.