Being American and being proud. May 25, 2009

I know.  I'm not supposed to.  Right now we are in the self-loathing cycle that is meant to keep us infighting and focused internally.  All the things we knew about from over three years ago, Abu Ghraib...waterboarding...are front and center on the debate stage being warmed over with spotlights like they are new and urgent things that require attention now.  I think this is a dangerous pathology.

We're supposed to HAVE this debate late and without all the evidence.  We know that after 9/11, the nation's intel was in some disarray.  There was talk of "chatter" and possible additional plots.  Those plots did not happen, but if you listen to the way some people talk, those plots against Americans should have been carried out.  There is evidence saying that interrogations led to thwarting of at least two terrorist attacks. (I mean, man-made disasters.)  One was a plan to take down the Brooklyn Bridge.  The other was the destruction of a building in LA.  9/11 style stuff.  And instead of saying, "Oh, thank you!"  People are saying, "You used waterboarding and we disapprove."  Apparently, there's more that we don't know...but people are racing to late and politically convenient judgment about something that we already knew about.

These three Al Qaeda members aren't misunderstood petty thugs.  They are Bin Laden-esque leaders of a death cult pledged to destroy America.  Most people want Bin Laden dead.  I say most, because there appear to be quite a few who think we had 9/11 coming, so Bin Laden should get a lawyer and a chance to explain why American needs to be destroyed.  He may, after all, have a point?

And it would get great ratings. *fist bump*

We're the most bizarre of cultures.  We have a guy on tape saying, "We did it and by the way, death to America!"  Eight years later Jesse Ventura's on a radio show suggesting a conspiracy.  Jesse Ventura?

Down in Tennessee they had a conference to talk about slavery and reparations a couple of months back . Now, I know about slavery in the USA.  It is indeed a dark chapter in our history.  But having a conference now is like taking a dog and sticking its nose in a poop on the carpet that it didn't make. 

We're supposed to be forgiving and "progress"... but we're talking about making people who didn't commit sins pay for people who weren't the victims of the sins?  Progressives really seem to focus on the past a great deal.

I'm a woman, and we didn't get the vote in the USA until 1920.  There has been sexism in America...but I'm not about to demand some kind of late attrition from my country. I can think of quite a few places I'm thankful that I DON'T have to live and none of them are in the USA.  In fact, I feel privileged to live in this country.  There is nothing to be gained by unceasingly flogging a nation that has self-corrected and moved itself forward and strives to be the most fair and most free nation on Earth.

Here's Iran hanging some gay people recently.

And if you snicker at that, you are dangerously jaded.  Try another country for awhile.

I am proud to be American.

In these current times, I believe more Americans need to look to the immigrants to our nation.  They come from the war-torn, poverty -stricken places and flee to our society.  They choose the USA for a reason and they do not complain when times are hard.

Let's look at the international stage and the USA's place on it now.  Some of our allies have been offended by this administration.  We've accused Canada of letting terrorists cross THEIR border, even though evidence suggests otherwise.  We've tightened THAT border.

We went behind our NATO allies' back to offer Russia the favor of not pursuing a missile shield in order to get their help with Iran.  They slapped us.

The administration reached out to Cuba and got a clenched fist in return.

Hugo Chavez stole an American factory in Venzuela and we've heard nary a peep.

Iran's pursuing nukes.  They launched a missile.  It won't be long 'till those missiles have nuclear components.

North Korea also fired a missile and now they've done their underground nuke test despite the UN.

The UN is good for nothing.  The usual suspects have decided that our government is now unresolved, crippled and broke.  I'm sure they laugh as the White House dictates a news cycle on "torture" and they get to ramp up their defenses/offenses unchecked. 

Everyone said electing Obama was going to make the world safer.  People wouldn't defy the UN because it was somehow the fault of the US that they were doing it in the first place.  This is clearly bullshit.  Tyrants can smell weakness.  Obama's powerless at negotiating with rogue nations and there's no one else willing to step up to the plate, it seems.  These are the perfect conditions for the next world conflict.

If it happens, I hope that people will finally realize that the US loathes itself while other nations laugh.  We should not be this stupid.  The generation that remembers world wars has been telling us for a long time that our naivete is dangerous.

So I call bullshit.  It's time for the media to do its job and not be a tool of the administration.  Times are too dangerous for a non-free media following a stupid agenda.

Now, I'm going to have a good Memorial Day, thinking about the USA and the soldiers who have died in various conflicts and wars.  These heroes are equal patriots and matriots, all deserving of my respect and thanks for fighting under the flag of the nation I adore.

Some observances over a few days. May 28, 2009

I had to go and get my driver's licence renewed.  I thought they expired every five years, but they expire every four years and I'm willing to bet they used to last FIVE years until someone said, "We could generate XXXXXXXXXXXXX amount of revenue if we make licences last four years as opposed to five."

So, the guy I approached at the DMV was wearing a beret, and doing a crossword and he looked like Conrad Bain from "Different Strokes".  He did not smile and he spoke in a monotone.  He asked me all the questions and then had me step over to the machine to test my vision.  I had never done this before.  Really.

I looked into the machine as he said, emotionlessly, "Read the top line."  I said, "I can't see anything."  He said, "Activate the machine by pressing your forehead against it."

So, I pressed, and there appeared four lines of numbers.

THE TOP LINE WAS REALLY ITTY BITTY.  So I had the interior monologue, you know.  "Oh $hit!  My vision is failing.  I'll squint but they are TINY...um..." then out loud, "Four, eight, six?"

Then he said, "How 'bout I use the right slide?"  And the machine changed to a new screen and the letters were MUCH bigger and I read them with ease and now I wonder if he is just slightly sadistic.
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My niece talked me into getting a pedicure.  It's not that I'm at all self-conscious about my feet.  My feet are great.  It just seems really indulgent to have somene else do what you are capable of doing yourself.  I know that's the point.  I never said my brain worked correctly.

I picked out a bright, but not garish rose-colored polish and then the woman ran the water and told me to put my feet in.  The water was coldish.  I said so.  She stuck her hand in and said, "You think?"  I still put my feet in and said, "It's ok."

There's a massager in the chair, too.  You can make your butt vibrate.  The shiatzu function on the lower back nearly pushes you out of the chair.  But who knows how to work all those buttons.  I just pressed them until something, but not too much, was happening.

She reached in the water to start on my feet and said, "Oh, water IS cold!"  Then she did all the things they do for a pedicure.  I would give details but you don't need them.  At one point she was knocking on my shin bones so hard I am still worried I will have bruises for my cousin's wedding.

When it came time to do the polish she said, "You want decoration, like flower?"  I said, "No, thank you."  She said, "You booooooooooooring."

I said, "I'm ooooooooooooooold."

I have pink toes without decoration.

Feng shoe - versus storm and bang. (older writing)

It is good to take quiet time away from the false busyness and informational pelting that modern technology demands of us.

I can tend to be a natural multitasker.  I don't know what it is about this brain that demands many channels of activity at once.  The TV is always on while I'm reading.  That's just STUPID, but in my world, that's the way it is.

If you factor in the internet, 24 hour news channels, chores to do and other people...I suppose any person would feel somewhat splintered.

I've gotten to have some quiet time.  I read some books I've been waiting for.  I read Edmund Morris' "Dutch", the official biography of Ronald Reagan.  I recommend it to everyone.  Morris was unconventional.  He wrote himself into the narrative in a fascinating way, but the history is pretty exhaustively referenced and reliable.

In this book, Reagan isn't lionized.  Often, when I read biographies...they remind me of bronzed baby shoes.  Something's taken and made immutable and shiny.  Bronzed baby shoes show that your feet were little once, but you can't tell, through the bronze, where the little cracks in the leather were....or, how you wore the sole of the shoe in certain places more than others...like maybe you were a tip-toe toddler.

They are just a testament to the fact that baby you existed...not WHAT baby you was like.

And sometimes biographies are like that.

I couldn't escape the Jackson coverage.  The Jacksons themselves seem to be courting the coverage.  A lot of what I've seen has made me appreciate what a gift obscurity really is.

And I've been contemplating my living space.  And, of course, cleaning it.  And wondering over the fact that I have a lot of stuff that I don't need.  I have some stuff I don't even LIKE.  THAT is definitely going.  I donated around 20 books to the library and Goodwill is going to get a visit, too.

Slowly, though...I'm wading through the sturm und drang and getting to uncover the actual SPACE.  Space is nice, clutter is bad.  This is my new mantra.  I'll never get rid of ALL the clutter, though...because of the actual THINGS I like.  They need a place to be.  And there's a little part of me that's cluttered.  What I DON'T own, are a pair of my bronzed baby shoes.  

5:39 PM

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AgriCULTURE: (photographic proof of)

To get to the corn boil, we took the road less traveled.

This is the international symbol for agriculture.  I have a thing for barns.  (Insert joke comparing me to farm animal here.)

I think we found the corn boil.

Many of our neighbors aren't so young.  Actually the woman there across the table was a grade school teacher of mine.  I told my niece, "That's one of my schoolteachers, but I can't remember which one, oh no!"  Turns out it was Mrs. Holstein (real name, I'm not just making that up to make her sound farmery) the woman who called me "Honeychild" and taught me fonnix.

This is my niece's food.  Corn, brat and melon.  I had corn, grilled chicken and melon. My niece was supposed to be deployed, but during training she hurt her ankle quite badly, so they had to decide to send her home to recover and deploy her later.  She was bummed, but a corn boil and an ice cream social make up for these disappointments.

Obligatory corny photo.  My niece took it.  She said, "You can totally tell you're cracking up."  I was.  Sometimes when I look at pics of me ... my mother is there in my eyes.

Does it get any better than this?  America's best writers scribble about perfect rural summer days enjoying community rituals.  Except for Steven King who wrote "Children of the Corn" and we will have noneofthat here, thank you very much.

Hope you enjoyed this bucolic respite.

A poem I wrote for a friend's birthday.

A smile, a sigh
and ancient eyes
Not lacking spark
not lacking beat

And separate from walking feet

All traveling miles
And sporting styles

The curious of now and then
The casual observant zen
from port to port
a hi for sport

a mystery to me and thee
A birthday for the birthday tree

Gypsies are as gypsies want
Drinking from life's errant font

But staid, too and too much there
The younger boy with chocolate hair

And liquid eyes of honest earth
A mouth acquainted with true mirth

Quakes of ground won't matter here
For going, you know how to steer

And all the pathways traveled less
Are graced with the celestial kiss
Go in rhythm dearest one
At end of road is blessed sun

Housework never ends.

Whenever I show up at the pearly gates, I think that George Carlin will be staffing them that day and he will say, "Welcome....but first, there's some dusting for you to do and a little vacuuming...maybe pick up Jesus' dirty robes and take them to the dry cleaner...God heard about your skills in the kitchen and really wants your seafood chowder and London Broil...we don't have a dishwasher, but you might be able to talk someone into helping you with clean up, I mean, this is Heaven.  People are nice."

When you know you are in the "good stuff."

There's much cynicism in America today.  There's the constant woodpecking about needing "fundamental change."  Youth sometimes seemed soaked in the suck.

When you want to talk about America's history, there's always some sour-tongued pedant to complain about the treatment of the Native Americans.  To complain about the period of slavery.  To complain about civil rights.  To talk about dropping bombs on Japan.

As much as folks claim they are "progressive"...they seem to dwell an awful lot on the past.

I know our history and everyone should.  We need to know all of it.  We also need to know that ... compared to other countries, we have self-corrected the grievances in a remarkably short period and we've often led the path that other (much older) nations decided to follow.

The beauty of America is the beauty of life.  No person is perfect and no nation is.  Every person will make mistakes and learn and grow.   And when people have made mistakes and corrected them, they deserve to be forgiven.  It is only through forgiveness and understanding that people AND nations can grow and thrive.

America is big and mighty.  We know it.  It is brash and bold and shiny and colorful and diverse...and it's NEW.  It's a new thing.  Speaking in relation to the world ...  America's an infant.

Do not mistake my appreciation for my land of birth to be some kind of disrespect for other countries.  I have lived and seen many great places.  I remember my great-grandfather, Axel Anderson.  He came here from Sweden and I traveled to see his place of birth and stood inside the church he attended there when he was just a boy.

There are terrific countries in the world and all sorts of fascinating cultures.

This holiday weekend I got to spend time with the family.  The GO TO tradition is grilling out and my brother was perfecting his ribs.  See, ribs are an American thing.  We take the part of the animal that no one wants and we turn it into manna from Heaven.  Oh, my brother had the good rub and had expended the effort to bake the ribs and then was slowly smoking them in his grill as I pulled up into the driveway.

I had stopped at the fireworks tent to buy a packet of legal Illinois fireworks.  My six-year old great-niece needed to experience the tradition of lighting a fuse on something.  I had no idea WHAT to buy because I was under the impression that they would all suck ... so I just got the "Carnival Pack."

The family gathered, chattering, around the table and feasted on the delicious pig flesh and salads.  It's impossible to shut my great-niece up and, personally, I like that quality in her.  I believe she takes after my dad.  My grandmother tells me that my dad used to talk all through dinner and sit there and finish his plate after everyone was done.  This certainly happened yesterday, but the great-niece ripped through her food in record time when I told her I was going outside to light smoke bombs.

After all had eaten we congregated outside for the fireworks show.  We started with the small stuff in the pack.   The minor child enjoyed the sparklers, especially when I gave her two at a time.  I don't care who you are, it's fun to see someone scream, "Wheeeeeeeee" and mean it!  There were these things in the pack, about twelve of them...that looked about the size of a AA battery and when you lit the fuse, they spun around and made different color displays.

There was domestic tranquility with arm chairs and the neighbor's cat lying peacefully on the grass until one of the things I lit decided to emit a high-pitched scream.  The feline, like a bullet, flew behind the garage.  I have to say I was surprised by some of these legal Illinois fireworks.  They were shooting colored sparks and exploding and squealing.  A couple gave me a good bang for my buck.  All in all, they really DIDN'T suck.

And of course,

Wheeeeeeeeeeeeee!

After the fireworks were done, we stayed in the back yard and invented some game that eventually involved three balls and kicking and throwing and even a hula hoop.  Good times.

Finally, it was dusk and perfect for watermelon.  My brother invited the neighbor, a nice widow lady, over.  It turned out to be a pink, sweet, juicy and cool melon that would require my great-niece to be hosed off before she went back inside.

As it was getting late ... I headed home.  I reflected on a day full of the good stuff.

I remembered good times when *I* was a kid and thought about sitting on the back porch of my great-grandpa's house.  He called me Svenska flikka and he would put me on his lap in a wooden rocking chair he made and we'd listen to THIS!

Thank you Axel.  The good stuff is still here.