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Tag Archives: politics
As in “Jesus Christ, are you kidding me?” Let’s talk for a moment about babies and Christians and Christmas songs and greetings and how the upcoming holiday has become a battleground instead of a celebration and why reasonable human beings are allowing that to happen.
To begin, babies. Big confession here…I don’t find babies to be very interesting. When I say I didn’t even like my own babies all that much until I had my third, I am being completely honest. My lack of enthusiasm for infants, however, doesn’t prevent me from feeling incredibly sad for children who are separated from their families or born into situations which fail to provide opportunity or stability. You know, like Jesus – and all the children who continue to live in tents apart from their families in a state of imprisonment. How people who claim the mantle of “Christian” can fail to see the parallels between their savior and those babies is truly one of the wonders of Christmas to me.
“Baby, It’s Cold Out” is not a date rape song in my head or heart. They’re flirting, he’s cajoling her to stay and she’s finding lame ass excuses blaming everyone but herself for not being able to stay. That’s my read at least and I’m entitled to it. I refuse to feel icky about this song, but you can feel free to rail against it if you must. I’m not buying in to that craziness and I’m not taking that song off my holiday season playlist.
The phrase “Merry Christmas” should be received by non-Christmas celebrants in the same way “Happy Hump Day is. Maybe neither are your holiday, but it’s ok to acknowledge that they’re both important days to those who choose to celebrate. If someone wishes you the “wrong” sentiment, do you really get offended by their greeting? Isn’t there so much more to take offense from in our world? You know, like children in cages? As for me, I’m just going to keep saying “Merry Christmas.”
Migrants and other seekers of asylum and the chance for a better life, should be more compassionately dealt with, particularly by those who like to claim religion as their justification for how they approach the world. Please don’t talk to me about the miracle of a savior’s birth in a manger if you’re unwilling to recognize the efforts being made by contemporary families to achieve a similarly blessed life for their own child(ren).
I’m all about remembering the reason for the season, but, Jesus Christ, can’t we do a better job honoring him?
Owning a restaurant was an experience I’ll never forget – nor ever want to live again.
We’ve all had a relationship like that at least once, right?
Lark + Lily was open for about 20 months and I learned a lot during that time. Ultimately my biggest lesson was that I refused to remain committed to something that didn’t bring me joy. Months after selling the restaurant, I still feel the effects of that time, but the damages are starting to fade. I’ve moved beyond the stress and disappointment to a place where I can smile again.
It wasn’t all bad. There are parts of that experience of which I’m really proud and the more time that passes, the more often I can focus my attention on those positive things.
Three things which truly stand out:
- I don’t owe anyone anything.
Any and all expenses were paid in full. If anyone ever says anything to the contrary, they’re lying.
- I worked really hard and there’s virtue in that which is like no other.
I truly don’t know how I managed a full time job, 3 half time kids, running 1000 miles a year and a restaurant, but, I did.
- I was honest about what was important to me and didn’t compromise.
Someone once made a comment that basically said they didn’t like my politics and chose to not support my business because of my liberal leanings. Well, I’ll never not believe in reproductive freedom, universal health care and equal rights for all and there are plenty of places I won’t patronize because their corporate policies conflict with my beliefs. Hello, Hobby Lobby and Chick Fil A.
We all make choices. Today, and every day, try to make decisions that demonstrate your independence, provide evidence of your integrity, and display your commitment to honest and principled leadership. VOTE.
Last spring I ran a half marathon in NYC, kind of a bucket list item if I were to have such a thing. I originally registered for the race because a childhood friend brought it to my attention and it sounded fun. Anything to go to NYC, you know?
It wasn’t the cheapest half I’ve ever run, but I was ok with the entry fee because it was an all women race and I think there may have been some charity component to it. Until I saw that Megyn Kelly was the media sponsor for the event, that is. Then, in all honesty, I considered bailing because, yes, she bothers me that much.
Why? Because anyone willing to sit down with, provide a forum to, and pose for photos with, a man who denies that the massacre at Sandy Hook Elementary School ever occurred, is despicable, in my opinion. I’m not going to even mention his name because I find him so reprehensible, but I’m sure you know about whom I’m speaking. I have some understanding about journalism and the fact that media professionals don’t necessarily endorse the beliefs of those they interview, but, this guy has deeply offended and caused pain to families who lost their children in a horrific way. He doesn’t get a pass, nor does she, in my book.
Yesterday, I hosted a Halloween related event in my library and I was a bit dismayed by the some of the behavior I observed. We had set out some snacks for the kids, like you do, but failed to stand guard at the table where the huge box of goldfish crackers, Oreo cookies, clementines and candy corn were being offered. Without direct adult supervision, the middle school kids were shockingly selfish about helping themselves to as much as they wanted to have without consideration of the fact that the kids behind them might end up with nothing. I was kind of appalled. I wanted and expected better.
Reflecting on it last night, I couldn’t help but see a parallel between the pattern of actions of Ms. Kelly, beginning with that controversial interview referenced above, and those of the children yesterday afternoon. There’s a sense of entitlement and lack of consideration for anyone but themselves that, quite honestly, repulses me on some level. This failure to demonstrate empathy for parents who have lost their children, and, on a much smaller scale, those who may not enjoy the same treats we have due to our own greediness, distresses me.
What do we expect from our children? What should we expect from personalities who want to be in our homes via social and more traditional media? I want and expect better. How about you?
*showing the world how to unleash the racist, misogynistic, homophobic and anti semitic members of society.
*being such a dramatic contrast to the previous administration and its ability to lead with grace, intelligence and respect.
*speaking so bluntly and conveying your thoughts without an iota of decorum or presidential dignity.
*convincing your base that immigrants are “vermin,” instead of humans desperate to escape their violent and often corrupt homelands.
*directing your venom towards the media as you spread propaganda and distribute falsehoods throughout our country and the world.
*helping to create an economy that has resulted in positive gains in my investments at the expense of health care and other social programs that benefit those who have far less than I do.
*appointing and supporting judges who will have the power to eliminate reproductive and civil rights for our citizens.
*denying scientific evidence with regards to climate change and the impact it has on the world and future generations.
*causing many to question the definitions of Patriotism, Nationalism and Socialism as they relate to our country.
*finally getting my brother to register and vote.
During Tuesday night’s walk with Jeter, a man with a bicycle made me aware of his presence because, as he explained, he didn’t want me or the dog to be startled by him. He was walking the bike. It was black, as was his clothing and his skin. It had rained earlier and was now dark. We walked near one another, facing traffic, on the sidewalk.
As we walked, he spoke with a bit of a mumble about how he didn’t want to get hit by a car because “people don’t stop if they run you over.” He said he was “too old to get hit.” I suspect he was close to my age, but it seemed that life hadn’t treated him as kindly as it had treated me. He shared his thoughts with me a little repetitively, but I didn’t mind. Truthfully, I kind of appreciated that he repeated himself because he didn’t speak clearly and it took me a couple of times to understand what he was saying. And, as I found out, he wanted to talk.
He asked me if I had seen the news. Had I heard about the 5000 people who were on their way from Mexico? There were babies, he said. We couldn’t kill babies. Could we?
I shook my head, mentioned I thought the caravan of people were actually from Honduras just passing through Mexico, and remarked that we were living in some pretty f*cked up times. We stopped walking and waited for the light to change so I could cross Delaware Avenue, and he said it again “We couldn’t kill babies. Could we?” I had no answer for him.
We parted with sincere wishes for a good night.
I walked home thinking about the encounter – me, my big dog, and this man who rode a black bike wearing all black in the dark worrying about being hit by a car and babies on the road dying.
These are some wildly crazy times, but talking to this man who had more concern for the safety of babies he would never know, than he had for his own, touched me and gave me hope. People are paying attention and are troubled by what they see. Now, if they’ll just vote.
The summer after I moved into the house I currently live in, my neighbor, knowing that I would be seeking a position as a school librarian, offered to introduce me to someone who might be able to help. He offered to take me for a ride to go meet a woman who purportedly had some influence with the school district. Her name was Polly Noonan. I had no idea who she was, but my ignorance made her no less interesting on the afternoon she and I met.
I had lived in Albany for about 7 years or so, but my local history knowledge was pretty weak. I had learned a little bit about politics, mostly while serving politicians and lobbyists at either PD. Ladd’s or the original Yono’s, and what I learned took away more than a little of my idealism. I became acquainted with who the major players were locally at the time – Jim Coyne, Tom Whalen, Jerry Jennings as an upstart and the Breslin and McEneny clans, but I had real no depth. Corning was just a tower to me. And cheap plates, of course.
On a sunny day, George and I climbed into his Ford sedan and drove over to Polly’s house. I’m sure it was arranged in advance with a phone call, but I wasn’t privy to that. We just drove up and Polly met us and welcomed us into her home. Twenty plus years later, what I most remember is an exchange we eventually had prompted by a painting on her wall.
The painting, an oil as I recall, was of a beautiful Siberian husky dog. Being a dog person and not really understanding how this dynamo of an old woman with a gravely voice was going to land me a job, I asked if it were her dog. She squawked back at me with “yes,” and then continued to say that Jack had given her the dog as a puppy. Jack Kennedy, that is. The puppy had come from a litter that had originated with a dog that had been given to President Kennedy directly from Khrushchev. Yes, that Khrushchev.
I’m certain my eyes were wide, as she matter of factly related her deceased dog’s lineage. This woman who lived in a simple house remarkably close to the thruway, (and as I’ve come to learn, near Corning Hill in Glenmont), deserved a deeper look.
Since that day I’ve told this story a dozen times, maybe even to you. It’s one of my favorite memories connected to my former neighbor, who I continue to miss years after his passing. Reflecting on it, I think it may have been the exact moment that I first began looking at Albany as being an interesting place with lively history, rather than merely a location for a good quality life at an affordable price.
I didn’t receive a job in the Albany school district, but since that day, I have gotten quite an education about my adopted beloved city. I now know stories about Albany and I find it to be a fascinating little city. Thanks, Polly.