Skip to main content

Ceilings abound

I promise I will not let political discussion take over this blog as it has the TV, radio, internet, water cooler, grocery-store queue, and dinner table. At least I'll try not to.

But these last two weeks have been heavy, have they not? The soaring highs after the Obamas' speeches, followed quickly by the plummeting lows of the Palin nom and the Republican convention speeches. You all know I'm a registered Democrat with fairly liberal views, and I have been longing to see a woman in the White House since, oh, toddlerhood (which is around the time I first became aware of politics, watching my parents pace and wring their hands in front of the TV, watching the results being tallied after the 1980 election).

But Sarah Palin is not the woman who should get that first chance. The announcement of her candidacy initially made me laugh out loud at obvious Republican pandering. But then the more I read about Palin's views, the more I started to wonder if I was, in fact, in an alternate dimension: Alaska secessionist? gun-toting pro-lifer? abstinence-only sex education (with a pregnant teenage daughter)? polar bears removed from the endangered species list to make it easier to get to Alaska's oil? Her biography gets more absurd the more I read.

So I've had some fairly bipolar moments this week, to say the least, jumping between laughter to rage to sentimentality pretty quickly. But today I read this column by Judith Warner, a working mom who writes regularly for the NY Times. Read it. Please. It's like she pulled off the top of my head, reached inside, and put all my thoughts into words much more articulately than I ever could.

But more importantly, read some of the comments posted, too. These, especially, may restore your faith that there are other smart women out there who really are paying attention. Maybe the hope can creep back in, and push the other noise aside for a while.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Grace happens

Today Honey's roommate in room 364 at Maine Medical Center was discharged. Some other day I'll tell you about why Honey is in the hospital again, but this story is about the roommate because it's way more interesting. Let's call him Elton, because all I really know about him is he plays guitar in an Elton John tribute band and he's originally from the very northern part of England, bordering Scotland. (Or as Honey described it, "that place in England where the Roman Empire decided, nope, those Celts are crazy, and put up a wall.")

Elton was in room 364 before Honey arrived, and what struck me immediately, besides his delightful accent and soothing Liam-Neeson-esque voice, was his gentle, good-natured manner. He was going through heck from a botched surgery and compartment syndrome - pain and gore and fear of losing the use of his dominant hand - yet he spoke kindly and softly to every person who came into his room. Every time a nurse walked in, Elton gree…

Boardwalk ghosts

“Imagine this, buddy, in the middle of summer, especially near the Fourth of July. Wall to wall people, just sort of moving in and out of each other. Flashing lights. Loud music. Screams from Morey’s Pier, laughter on the swirly rides. Oh...and the food...ice cream, funnel cake, fudge, cheese steaks, pizza, fries...the smells alone would drive you nuts!” 
It’s 5:00 on the evening before his Nana’s funeral, and we’re standing in a windy drizzle on an empty Wildwood boardwalk. My mind has flashed back to the summer of 1991, when I spent a week here with my best friend. Wicked sunburn. Tandem bike adventures. Water slides. Thrill rides. A ground-shaking thunderstorm. Friendship bracelets. College guys taking showers outside. Ice cream and VCR movies every night.

Back in the here-and-now I’m trying to explain to Zippy what this place is like when it’s not October. He’s been to Rehoboth and Ocean City and Old Orchard Beach, but none of those come anywhere close to Wildwood in peak season.…

#WhyIMarch

Zippy and I hiked in the woods the other day, following the icy trails around Evergreen Cemetery. The cold air stung our eyes but the sun shone warm and bright, and it felt great to breathe fresh air. As he skipped and hopped and twirled beside, in front, and around me, I felt peaceful, happy, content. Until I realized the Womens' March is in a few days, I am going, and I don't know what to expect. I've never done anything like this, except for a few years ago at Occupy Philly, which was nothing compared to the numbers they're anticipating this weekend. The Women's March will be a peaceful protest, yes, but 200,000 is an awful lot of people in highly charged city during turbulent times. I felt anxiety creeping into my chest.

"So you know I'm going away this weekend, right? To Washington, D.C. For just two sleeps. Do you know why I'm going?" I asked Zippy.
"Because you don't like Donald Trump and he's going to be the President."
&…