Tag Archives: Albany
I hate what he’s done to my country.
Where did it start? Was it one side accusing the other of hatred of a particular group?Maybe Blacks or Gays or Mexicans? I myself have said that some are motivated by their dislike of a particular race, not their desire to support the law as in the recent enactment of the Green Light Bill allowing non documented immigrants to receive driver’s licenses. Even as I said it, I knew it wasn’t true. At least not for all of the people involved in the online discussion, a conversation which grew increasingly more hostile.
But, how else to explain the admiration and acceptance “they” have for a person who has unrelentingly demonstrated his lack of interest in respecting anyone who does not kowtow to his wishes and demands?
In return, I was told that I was blinded by my hatred of Donald Trump. The very same facts which had convinced me that the only decision was to impeach DJT, had somehow confirmed for “them” that he was the victim of a witch hunt initiated by Democrats the very day he was sworn in. The liberal media and socialist leaning politicians had stoked my mild disgust for conman Trump into an inferno of raging hatred. That’s what “they” told me.
Again, I say – I do not hate Donald Trump.
I hate what he’s done to my country.
Each time I hear about the economy and record low unemployment and America First, I can only reflect on the price we’ve paid for any of those situations, and what has really been gained by the majority of Americans, instead of just the 1%. While I’m suspect about the reality of our country’s blazing economy, what I do know is that we are seriously lacking in some fundamental and basic components of a civilized society. Our government is broken.
When Donald Trump was elected, I swore about the damn electoral college and the polls, but accepted the results. I allowed a glimmer of hope to remain after eight years of Obama hope. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as the campaign had promised. How often are campaign pledges kept anyway? Surely this oddly colored man would grow gracefully into the Oval Office and rise to the occasion.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
The current situation in our country is not normal, at least not in my observations. The lack of compassion and civility, coupled with a sense of justified racism, have made America a place which no longer can be considered a world leader.
Yesterday’s impeachment communicated that we expect more from our government. It is unacceptable for our president to conduct himself as Donald Trump has and his impeachment confirms that so many understand that to be true.
I do not hate Donald Trump.
I hate what he’s done to my country.
I’m generally pretty easy going. I try to accept that not everyone thinks or behaves the same way I do and feel fairly happy most of the time. Heartbreaks aside, of course. There are a few things, though, that have recently got my blood boiling and I’m hoping that if I obey the full moon and practice letting go, maybe I can move past these injustices and minor outrages.
First – if I read one more time about how a 6-week infant was “allowed” to ingest methamphetamines by the man responsible for caring for him, I just might lose my shit. This baby, with 8 broken ribs and a head injury declared “not grave enough” to warrant legal charges, was killed by both the individual who administered the drugs and injuries to him and the system which absolutely and completely failed him.
Next – The hypocrisy of the president and his wife when it comes to respecting young people. I really don’t understand the outrage about a remark made by a legal scholar during the recent hearings relating to Donald Trump’s actions in relation to Ukraine. This apparently deeply offended the occupants of the White House, yet did not prevent the Idiot-in-Chief from making direct and disparaging remarks about Time magazine’s Person of the Year, Greta Thunberg. There is no bottom when it comes to Trump and his lack of sensitivity and basic social mores. He is absolutely repulsive and an embarrassment to the United States.
Speaking of the United States, I am appalled to live in a country in which a ball player receives a contract compensating them to the tune of $324 million over nine years. There is nothing anyone could ever say to me that would justify that kind of ludicrous salary. Nothing. Don’t even try.
My last two issues are much more trivial, yet still infuriating. One is a driving etiquette thing with which upstate people are apparently unfamiliar. I’m pretty certain I’ve railed about this before, but it seems folks weren’t listening so I’ll say it again – if I have the green light, but am not proceeding through an intersection because I can not clear the “box,” you should not interpret my holding back to be an invitation for you to make a right on red. If you’re someone who has mistakenly done this in the past, you’re welcome for the driving lesson because if you try that move in NYC, you won’t be educated quite so politely.
And, lastly, to the person who allows their dog to crap in my front garden (2x) and on the sidewalk (3x), when I find out who you are, we’re going to have words – and I’ll probably notify the city, too. The DelSo is a nice neighborhood filled with people who take care of their properties and are responsible pet owners. Pick up your dog’s sh*t like a respectable person.
I feel a little better now but if my rage persists, maybe Greta and I can get a group discount on those Anger Management classes.
Last week’s epic snowstorm provided an unexpected early December treat – the chance to cross-country ski at Albany Muni. I got out there four days and the conditions just kept getting better. It was awesome and Jeter and I loved every minute of it.
Other than the first day when I skied with a friend, it was just me, my dog and nearly two feet of snow. Sort of. Skiing solo provides lots of time for thoughts and when I cross country ski I can’t help but think of my Uncle Wolfgang. He, too, was a cross country skier, albeit much more accomplished than I. Wolfgang, my mother’s youngest brother, was a competitive biathlete in Germany and, as I ski, I do my best to glide with the grace and strength he once did.
As my eyes took in the beauty of the snow covered golf course and my lower back became damp from my exertions, my head filled with memories of my Uncle. He and I, along with his wife and a Lilly boy or two, took some great road trips together around Europe. Wolfgang and Brigitte were great travelers and I have wonderful memories of sharing time with them in Paris, Amsterdam, NYC and, our last trip, Berlin. I miss him and will always be sad that he was taken so fast and furiously by cancer just weeks after we parted in Berlin.
But, I feel him with me, deep inside, and I truly understand the sentiment about how you never really lose someone you love as long as you have memories of time shared. I get it now and it gives me so much comfort and peace to know he won’t ever be gone.
I started thinking about all the little things I do that immediately remind me of people who no longer walk the earth beside me. When I chop vegetables, I remember Len, who taught me how to hold a knife. As I put together a salad in the metal bowl I insisted upon getting in the divorce, I think of my mother-in-law and her inability to not give her son and I something to take with us each time we left her house. If I see a deer dead on the side of the road, I recall my friend, John, who once demonstrated his compassion for a dying doe by finishing the job a car had begun, an act of kindness that he unfortunately wasn’t able to extend to himself.
Losing someone we love and experiencing the void of their absence, especially near the holidays, makes for an emotionally challenging situation. Knowing that we’ll never again hear a loved one’s laughter or feel their embrace, quite plainly sucks. However, if one takes the time to focus instead on what remains – the memories and moments and love shared, it seems to me that they’re never really gone. At least not from our heads and, of course, our hearts.
When I was a kid I had faux aunts and uncles. There were no true relatives (that I knew about) in the States, so my mother provided close friends who functioned on some level as family. It was a laudable attempt and there were some good people in our lives during those years, some of whom remain to this day.
One of these families, the Ls, had the most multi limbed family tree in
the my world and I loved the holidays we shared with them over the years. Dinner usually included all of the following: the married couple, (about the same age as my mom), and their daughter, who was a toddler when we met, his son from his first marriage, joined by her two children from her first marriage. Also present, her first husband with his son from his second marriage. And the three of us.
It seemed like the most exciting, bizarre and totally normal holiday gathering ever. The traditions all blurred together, Jewish, Italian American, German, and the food was crazy – lasagna, bagels with lox, ham and fruit cake. Thinking about those days always makes me smile big.
Yesterday, for the first time in a few years, I had Thanksgiving dinner with friends. It was very low key and comfortable. We brought desserts and a savory vegetable casserole to join the bounty that was already present. While we didn’t play backgammon for boxes of Marlboro Reds, (as I might have decades ago with “my” extended family), we sipped far better wine than in those long ago days, with a mood which was comparably mellow.
At the table was my UG* and his children. And his children’s mom and her partner, along with her partner’s parents and her brother and sister in law. Looking around the table and seeing the threads that tied us all together, I couldn’t help but smile at the familiarity of the situation.
We recreate the chaos with which we are most comfortable. (I use “chaos” here to suggest a familiar dynamic with lots of activity, not as an indication of lack of control.) There’s a vibe or pace that we try to replicate, whether it’s conscious or not, because that’s what we grew up knowing.
Sitting at the dining table with a bunch of people who, through the years, have chosen to share their lives with one another, defines the holidays for me, even more than turkey and cranberry sauce. The combination of common histories and yet-to-be-explored future activities is what I was raised on and yesterday was the first time I felt that familiar energy in a long time.
It was a good holiday.
How was yours?
*don’t ask me what it means, it’s a private
joke term of endearment
I’m not very good at Halloween costumes. Generally speaking, I gravitate to those that portray a strong fictional character with a pretty dress. In recent years I’ve been Joan from Mad Men, Celia from Weeds and Olive from Easy A. I’m sure it’s not a coincidence that all three of those characters happen to be redheads either.
This year I opted for a real life person to portray – Greta Thunberg. Like Emma Gonzalez and Malala, this young Swedish woman is an inspiration and gives me hope for the future during a time that often makes me feel as if I’m living in a dystopian novel.
The costume was easy – a long-haired wig that I braided, casual clothes and a handmade sign that read Skolstrejk för Klimatet which translates to School Strike for Climate. I wore my costume twice – to a dance party at June Farms last weekend and to school on Halloween. Other than the foursome at the farm who asked me (after I explained who I was depicting), if I really believed in climate change, to which I responded “it’s not the f’n Easter Bunny. It’s real,” my costume was well received. I got quite a few high-fives, none more meaningful to me than those I received from students.
Climate change is happening, people. Human beings are destroying the planet. In my lifetime I’ve witnessed weather that is significantly different than what was once considered normal. It is a crisis and ignoring it, or even worse, denying it, isn’t going to make it better.
When I was a kid, growing up two hours south of where I currently live, it was cold at Halloween. Puddles in the streets were frozen and I remember seeing my breath in the night air as we walked from house to house filling our pillowcases with candy. There were arguments with mothers about the need to wear coats over our costumes, a horror worse than a headless horseman. Leaves were mostly off the trees, after having reached their peak colors earlier in the month.
Yesterday the temperature peaked at 75 degrees, setting a new record for the date. I attended a soccer game that was played under a menacing sky with gusty winds and rain that couldn’t decide whether to spit or pour on us. It was eerie and, unlike Halloween, the changes to our environment and climate aren’t going anywhere. That is some scary stuff.
I feel like I spend a lot of time apologizing for not having more time. Truly, time is the only thing I want more of in this life…October has been another month of concerts and games and parties and events and fun and not writing as often as I would like. There’s been something else, though, occupying my time – the HBO series, Succession.
This saga tells the story of the Roy family, (reputed to be loosely based on the Murdoch family), media tycoons led by patriarch Logan Roy. The twisted family dynamics, camera angles that suggest reality tv and liberal sprinkling of foul language make for an addicting guilty pleasure and I’m all over it.