The evening started with a most enlightening view of Chicago inbreeding on Beck's show, followed by a Lifetime movie. I'm sure you know the kind. You're channel surfing, and you pass LMN. Don't pause, not even for a moment, otherwise you wind up watching a two hour potboiler about some woman being abused by her husband, lover, or in tonight's movie, her shrink.
Afterward, one channel away was a movie about Georgia O'Keefe. This week's opus followed one last week about Dorothy Parker. Initially, I envied them both, not their talent, but the entree into circles with interesting people, the achievement. I've been on the what-have-I-done-with-my-life kick lately, or more to the point- what haven't I done with my life. I console myself with a thought I picked up reading Woolf's To the Lighthouse that somehow domesticity, the pull of family, hampers achievement. Only as I learn more about O'Keefe's painful marriage, I have to rethink my previous supposition.
The other day I discovered that someone I know in passing is in an unhappy situation. My first thought was to blurt out "Leave him now when you are young, so you won't realize thirty years down the road that you sacrificed your life to his dysfunction and are left with ashes of the life you could have led." I didn't say anything, however, because as Sherwood Anderson realized, "whatever I said would have been a lie."
That, I guess, is the truth. It is such a nebulous thing. I have friends who envy me for essentially dropping out of the rat race. At the same time I envy their success, their independence. Who knows what choices we make, should make? Of one thing I'm sure, we are called upon to make such life shaping decisions when we are least suited to, when the fever is in the blood and reality is yet to bare its teeth.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Friday, September 18, 2009
The Art of Politics
New George Will column on the NEA brouhaha as symptomatic of "the Obama administration's incontinent lust to politicize everything." What a turn of phrase! How true.
Will has hit the nail on the head. Was it objectionable that the President was to address school children and exhort them to do well in their studies? No. But the accompanying study materials, put out by the Department of Education, made clear a political agenda. In the case Will cites, powers at the National Endowment for the Arts sought to use the recipients of their largess to advance the Obamian agenda. It is amazing that none of those in charge at the NEA seem to grasp that turning their organization into the propaganda wing of the administration was not only unseemly, but wrong.
This tone deafness is symptomatic of this administration, which seems to be unable to see beyond the person of the President, which assumes that no one could object to the glorification of same. It is this cult of personality thing, the insidious infusion of all things Obama into all things, that is truly scary, that has thousands massing at the Capitol.
So read the column....just the swipes at the art world make it worthwhile. Ever been to the top floor at MOMA?
Will has hit the nail on the head. Was it objectionable that the President was to address school children and exhort them to do well in their studies? No. But the accompanying study materials, put out by the Department of Education, made clear a political agenda. In the case Will cites, powers at the National Endowment for the Arts sought to use the recipients of their largess to advance the Obamian agenda. It is amazing that none of those in charge at the NEA seem to grasp that turning their organization into the propaganda wing of the administration was not only unseemly, but wrong.
This tone deafness is symptomatic of this administration, which seems to be unable to see beyond the person of the President, which assumes that no one could object to the glorification of same. It is this cult of personality thing, the insidious infusion of all things Obama into all things, that is truly scary, that has thousands massing at the Capitol.
So read the column....just the swipes at the art world make it worthwhile. Ever been to the top floor at MOMA?
Patrick Swayze: End of an Era
Contrast the media treatment of Patrick Swayze's death to that of Michael Jackson: disappointingly little appeared on the news about Swayze's death compared to the wall to wall coverage of Jacko's. Too little vs too much.
Yet to the cuspers, I suspect, Swayze's death was more personal. Although it came out in '87 something about Dirty Dancing was emblematic of our generation. It could be that Baby's travails, her movement toward adulthood with its attendant loss of innocence, reflected our own. Never great art, it has stood the test of time.
And Mr. Swayze? His courage and determination to live make his demise all the more poignant. RIP.
Yet to the cuspers, I suspect, Swayze's death was more personal. Although it came out in '87 something about Dirty Dancing was emblematic of our generation. It could be that Baby's travails, her movement toward adulthood with its attendant loss of innocence, reflected our own. Never great art, it has stood the test of time.
And Mr. Swayze? His courage and determination to live make his demise all the more poignant. RIP.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Healthcare: Riddle Me This
There are lots of things about the present healthcare situation that confoose me. For instance, as good ol' gal Coulter points out in her umpteenth column about liberal healthcare lies, why can my employer deduct the cost of my health care on his taxes; but if I have to pay my own, I cannot? Or in the marketplace, why is it that if I cannot afford health insurance or if I pay my own, that is... have more of a catastrophic plan, I have to pay out of pocket, say, $200 for a procedure. If, however, I am fortunate enough to have an employer type plan in which I pay 20% of the very same procedure, I pay not $40 but $20, because the insurance provider deems the procedure to be worth $100. I understand they negotiate, but in effect the people with the least coverage are charged twice as much. Maybe these are some of the things that need remedy. Duh.
Bearing Witness
I am reminded that Jung did not believe in co-incidence when I mull the events of the past week. The theme emergent there is one of remembrance. There was first and foremost the anniversary of the 9/11. Then there was that rather odd day when I had the encounter with the gentleman dying to visit Cuba "before it changes." That evening as I started to regale the hubster with the story, he stopped me. "Don't tell me," he said. "I can top that."
Seems he was at a job in a tres exclusive building. The condo was being renovated, so the electrician was there, so was his wife. At first, he was elated to discover they were Cubans from the island. In the course of the conversation, she must have raised the issue of my visiting the benighted island. My beautifully trained husband said, "Oh, no, she won't go as long as the dictatorship is in power." She not only countered with "She's wrong. The Spaniards have done wonderful things, beautiful hotels...," but more importantly that her family supported the system. Precataclysm they had nothing.
"And what do they have now?" I interrupt. "What are they doing here anyway?' You know the drill. Remembering my own experience that day the larger point dawned on me and depressed me to no end. Of all the things that have been lost in this night that never sees the day is the truth. The generations which lived and worked in the old Cuba are dead or dying, both here and on the island. The propaganda machine has been working full tilt for over a century.
It's as if a huge chunk of Cuban reality has been excised. Those who grew up in the system know nothing else. Those outside can not possibly imagine that Hispanics were capable of creating a country which, despite its very real problems, rivaled many Western European nations. No one cares about those very credible statistics Fontova cites. Their bigotry colors their perceptions. To their eyes, Cuba was a third world country, not Cuba was a developing nation that has been dragged relentessly backward.
It was in this context that I came across some mail from the Cuba Archive. Now that provided some comfort. Visit here. Thanks to their efforts at least some truth of what took place will be told. It reminds me of I Was Cuba, the volume of photos from the Ramiro Fernandez collection, which was started at his grandmother's suggestion as a way to keep his Cuba alive. For in the end all we can do to carry on the legacy of our parents is to bear witness.
Seems he was at a job in a tres exclusive building. The condo was being renovated, so the electrician was there, so was his wife. At first, he was elated to discover they were Cubans from the island. In the course of the conversation, she must have raised the issue of my visiting the benighted island. My beautifully trained husband said, "Oh, no, she won't go as long as the dictatorship is in power." She not only countered with "She's wrong. The Spaniards have done wonderful things, beautiful hotels...," but more importantly that her family supported the system. Precataclysm they had nothing.
"And what do they have now?" I interrupt. "What are they doing here anyway?' You know the drill. Remembering my own experience that day the larger point dawned on me and depressed me to no end. Of all the things that have been lost in this night that never sees the day is the truth. The generations which lived and worked in the old Cuba are dead or dying, both here and on the island. The propaganda machine has been working full tilt for over a century.
It's as if a huge chunk of Cuban reality has been excised. Those who grew up in the system know nothing else. Those outside can not possibly imagine that Hispanics were capable of creating a country which, despite its very real problems, rivaled many Western European nations. No one cares about those very credible statistics Fontova cites. Their bigotry colors their perceptions. To their eyes, Cuba was a third world country, not Cuba was a developing nation that has been dragged relentessly backward.
It was in this context that I came across some mail from the Cuba Archive. Now that provided some comfort. Visit here. Thanks to their efforts at least some truth of what took place will be told. It reminds me of I Was Cuba, the volume of photos from the Ramiro Fernandez collection, which was started at his grandmother's suggestion as a way to keep his Cuba alive. For in the end all we can do to carry on the legacy of our parents is to bear witness.
Friday, September 11, 2009
He Did Keep Us Safe
Gotta read this nice little tribute to President Bush over at Big Hollywood. It is still early, but I maintain that Bush's basic decency and "grit," as Editor in Chief John Nolte terms it, will be remembered long after the slings and arrows of the self-important pseudo intelligentsia are forgotten.
Literary Interlude: "The Soldier"
Given the nature of today's remembrance, I offer the well-known Rupert Brooke poem. There is something in that notion of a corner that is "forever England" that resonates with the video of the World Trade Center site that the networks are running. Without further ado:
The Soldier
by Rupert Brooke
If I should die, think only this of me:
That there's some corner of a foreign field
That is for ever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,
A body of England's, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.
And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
A pulse in the eternal mind, no less
Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;
Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.
I Remember Keith Roma
(The following is my, hopefully humble, tribute to one of the victims of 9/11, a former student, undertaken as part of Project 2,996. Go to the website and use the links to learn about the real live human beings lost. )
The Keith Roma who called his father from Fire Patrol 2 in Greenwich Village on 9/11 was not the one I once knew. He was not a high school boy with a sheepish grin and an impish glint in his eye, a bright student always up for a bit of fun. The Keith Roma who picked up that phone on the last morning of his life to tell his Dad that the unthinkable had happened was a 27 year old man in the prime of life.
Responding to the World Trade Center after the first plane hit, Keith, who according to coworkers already had a reputation for being there when things got rough, was captured in a photograph as he helped evacuees to safety. According to Sgt. John Sheehan, his superior, Keith undertook another three trips into Tower 1. At one point, he is reported to have carried a woman with no shoes down glass-strewn stairs. The last time he was seen, he was with a group evacuating an overweight woman. Reports indicate that when his remains were found that Christmas, it was with those of another eight or nine people, leading to the supposition that he was assisting in yet another evacuation.
Initially, his name did not appear on the Fire Department tally of those lost because Keith worked for the Fire Patrol, an entity encharged with salvage at commercial fires. But in 2006, the New York Fire Department paid official tribute to his memory in a bronze plaque. Firefighters across the country have honored him as one of their own. Not all tributes have been that formal. His hometown paper reports that the week after the tragedy, his family was approached at the station house by a young woman bearing flowers. She explained that one afternoon, Keith had spotted her crying and learning that she was grieving the loss of her mother had ducked into a store only to reappear with a bouquet. It was a kindness she did not forget and which she sought to return. A former coworker at a second job also attests to his kindness and concern. All remember his ready smile and enthusiasm, particularly for sports.
There is a picture at a memorial website of Keith holding his daughter as an infant. There is the same expression I remember, that trademark grin. There is no indication in the photo that it is the face of a young man who would race into a burning building to rescue others, who would perish in the line of duty. In short, that it is the face of heroism. Vaya con Dios, Keith, you have not been forgotten.
The Keith Roma who called his father from Fire Patrol 2 in Greenwich Village on 9/11 was not the one I once knew. He was not a high school boy with a sheepish grin and an impish glint in his eye, a bright student always up for a bit of fun. The Keith Roma who picked up that phone on the last morning of his life to tell his Dad that the unthinkable had happened was a 27 year old man in the prime of life.
Responding to the World Trade Center after the first plane hit, Keith, who according to coworkers already had a reputation for being there when things got rough, was captured in a photograph as he helped evacuees to safety. According to Sgt. John Sheehan, his superior, Keith undertook another three trips into Tower 1. At one point, he is reported to have carried a woman with no shoes down glass-strewn stairs. The last time he was seen, he was with a group evacuating an overweight woman. Reports indicate that when his remains were found that Christmas, it was with those of another eight or nine people, leading to the supposition that he was assisting in yet another evacuation.
Initially, his name did not appear on the Fire Department tally of those lost because Keith worked for the Fire Patrol, an entity encharged with salvage at commercial fires. But in 2006, the New York Fire Department paid official tribute to his memory in a bronze plaque. Firefighters across the country have honored him as one of their own. Not all tributes have been that formal. His hometown paper reports that the week after the tragedy, his family was approached at the station house by a young woman bearing flowers. She explained that one afternoon, Keith had spotted her crying and learning that she was grieving the loss of her mother had ducked into a store only to reappear with a bouquet. It was a kindness she did not forget and which she sought to return. A former coworker at a second job also attests to his kindness and concern. All remember his ready smile and enthusiasm, particularly for sports.
There is a picture at a memorial website of Keith holding his daughter as an infant. There is the same expression I remember, that trademark grin. There is no indication in the photo that it is the face of a young man who would race into a burning building to rescue others, who would perish in the line of duty. In short, that it is the face of heroism. Vaya con Dios, Keith, you have not been forgotten.
Quip for Today, Or What We Put Up With Daily
As I was going out of my way yesterday to help a member of the public, the gentleman- who is married to a Costa Rican lady- inquired as to my heritage. When I replied that I was Cuban, he remarked that he was desperate to visit Cuba "before it changed."
"Oh," I inquired with as much insouciance as I could muster, "You mean while the people are still impoverished and oppressed?"
"Oh," I inquired with as much insouciance as I could muster, "You mean while the people are still impoverished and oppressed?"
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Very Late Rendition
As ImPOTUS keeps running for President on the telly, I'll play some catch-up.
Slicing. While I'm on wordplay, I have to highlight Paco's "Purge" post, notable not only for its point, but also for its incisive diction. I'll leave you to pick your own favorite. I can't decide between the stolen hubcap and the metaphorical pike. But then there's the tin foil hat. Oh, well.
Dicing. An interesting read at the Heritage Foundation as to why unions are backing healthcare reform. I was wondering. But with the recent transmogrification of unions, who knows?
Cutting. I love Big Hollywood. In this, Lou Aguilar makes the leap from cinema to the political arena when he maintains that the magnitude of the error in electing the present administration makes it that much easier to correct. From his keyboard to God's ears.
Chewing. Just as a point of interest, this CNN report about some more holiday visitors to the Cape.... Cape Cod, that is. Nothing special, just brings back memories of the "Summer of the Shark." Ah, remember when.
Slicing. While I'm on wordplay, I have to highlight Paco's "Purge" post, notable not only for its point, but also for its incisive diction. I'll leave you to pick your own favorite. I can't decide between the stolen hubcap and the metaphorical pike. But then there's the tin foil hat. Oh, well.
Dicing. An interesting read at the Heritage Foundation as to why unions are backing healthcare reform. I was wondering. But with the recent transmogrification of unions, who knows?
Cutting. I love Big Hollywood. In this, Lou Aguilar makes the leap from cinema to the political arena when he maintains that the magnitude of the error in electing the present administration makes it that much easier to correct. From his keyboard to God's ears.
Chewing. Just as a point of interest, this CNN report about some more holiday visitors to the Cape.... Cape Cod, that is. Nothing special, just brings back memories of the "Summer of the Shark." Ah, remember when.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Read: Between Bestsellers
If like me, you're all read up on your favorite writers, just salivating for the next novel; then, you are also in search of writers yet to be discovered. I stumbled on Les Roberts' Milan Jacovich series during a dry spell. Milan is a Slovenski detective in Cleveland. By the way, great detective fare.
More recent finds include two detective series set in Britain between the wars. Both provide a sense of life in the interval. First is the "Her Royal Spyness" Series by Rhys Bowen which chronicles the adventures of the genteelly impoverished Lady Georgiana, 34Th in line for the throne who finds herself enmeshed in murders while struggling to stay afloat. The latest- Royal Flush- has Wallis Simpson in an unflattering cameo. Enjoyable. Set slightly earlier in the same era, though in more plebeian circles are Jacqueline Winspear's Maisie Dobbs novels. A bit more serious than the Bowen, centered on the the after effects of WWI.
Just waiting for the new Conroy to hit my library shelves.
More recent finds include two detective series set in Britain between the wars. Both provide a sense of life in the interval. First is the "Her Royal Spyness" Series by Rhys Bowen which chronicles the adventures of the genteelly impoverished Lady Georgiana, 34Th in line for the throne who finds herself enmeshed in murders while struggling to stay afloat. The latest- Royal Flush- has Wallis Simpson in an unflattering cameo. Enjoyable. Set slightly earlier in the same era, though in more plebeian circles are Jacqueline Winspear's Maisie Dobbs novels. A bit more serious than the Bowen, centered on the the after effects of WWI.
Just waiting for the new Conroy to hit my library shelves.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Literary Interlude: Shakespeare for All Occasions
I had posted the last entry at Babalu yesterday eve when the theme of the week came to me. There was Beck; there was Fontova's reminder of the abomination of the UN's d'Escoto naming the tyrant "a Hero of Solidarity"; and that last petulant comment about a "cosmetic coat of paint." So, here goes:
Lay not that flattering unction to your soul,
That not your trespass but my madness speaks;
It will but skin and film the ulcerous place,
Whiles rank corruption, mining all within,
Infects unseen.
Hamlet, Act III, Scene 4
What an image! Gotta love the Bard.
Lay not that flattering unction to your soul,
That not your trespass but my madness speaks;
It will but skin and film the ulcerous place,
Whiles rank corruption, mining all within,
Infects unseen.
Hamlet, Act III, Scene 4
What an image! Gotta love the Bard.
It's The Embargo, Stupid!
The AFP informs that Thursday's State Department easing of remittance and family travel restrictions didn't go far enough for the Cuban dictatorship. The tone of the denunciation decrying the move as a "cosmetic coat of paint," something they know a thing or two about, would seem to strike a harsh note.
Of course, it is not unusual for an American President to have his outstretched hand slapped away. Still, some clues to the frenetic tone of the response can be found here. It's the embargo they want lifted, d'ya think?
Cross-posted at Babalublog
Of course, it is not unusual for an American President to have his outstretched hand slapped away. Still, some clues to the frenetic tone of the response can be found here. It's the embargo they want lifted, d'ya think?
Cross-posted at Babalublog
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Briefs
Caller to an AM radio show about Congress: "Sometimes I think we might be better off with the first 535 names in the jury pool."
***
Caught Laura Ingraham, filling in for O'Reilly on Tues night, debating Dr. Lamont Hill about healthcare in Cuba. Anyone who still believes in the great Cuban healthcare hoax is invited to visit The Real Cuba here. Access to what? Of course, if you are a foreigner, that's another whole kettle of fish.
***
As me old mum used to say, "A santo de que" is it necessary for Herr Obama to speak to the tr...oops...children. I might almost believe Mr. Beck is onto something. Now if they start asking the children to close their eyes and ask the President for candy, I'll really smell a rat.
***
An elegant suggestion for parents, whatever your persuasion, keep your kid home that day. If Mr. Obama were truly interested in teaching a civics lesson, he should have included the opposition. Hey, you think this might be an exercise in desensitization?
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Sunday Brunch
Scrambled. On Townhall this week is an insightful and damning column about Obamian policy toward Latin America, particularly valuable for it's coverage of the latest goings on in Venezuela. Couple it with the threats of cutting off aid to Honduras that have been coming out of State, and you are left to conclude that Mona Charen is right. They just don't know who our friends are.
Revoltillo. On the domestic front, last Friday's column by Don Gainor is a must read, if only for its opener. Yes there is revolt in the air, Kennedy demise or no Kennedy demise, and the internet helps fuel and foment it. It seems that the Dems taught bloody instructions when they went after Bush with the long knives. (Allusions, anyone?) Payback is no lady.
Benedict. I've brought up the great question as to what's killing the honeybees, a more immediate concern than global warming. From the AP via Fox comes the latest installment in the mystery. Stay tuned. Even the last installment from Laurie King, The Language of Bees, set in the Victorian world of Sherlock Holmes has as a central motif the dying off of hives.
Poached. Although the core of this effort by Stanley Fish in the New York Times revolves around a report by ACTA, the American Council of Trustees and Alumni, as to what should be taught in colleges, including a discussion of his differences over the specific content to be taught in literature classes, it is worthy of a read if only because of what it conveys about the teaching of writing. Brain food.
Hard-Boiled. Every once in a while, I promise myself that I'll read something of note, something deep. I carry around in my purse a dog-eared list of CS Lewis' titles I mean to read some day. Guess I'll have to add another one from this book review in The Weekly Standard. Guess I should start with the Chesterton book; I've only ever read Father Brown (?). Geesh, they're so erudite over there.
Revoltillo. On the domestic front, last Friday's column by Don Gainor is a must read, if only for its opener. Yes there is revolt in the air, Kennedy demise or no Kennedy demise, and the internet helps fuel and foment it. It seems that the Dems taught bloody instructions when they went after Bush with the long knives. (Allusions, anyone?) Payback is no lady.
Benedict. I've brought up the great question as to what's killing the honeybees, a more immediate concern than global warming. From the AP via Fox comes the latest installment in the mystery. Stay tuned. Even the last installment from Laurie King, The Language of Bees, set in the Victorian world of Sherlock Holmes has as a central motif the dying off of hives.
Poached. Although the core of this effort by Stanley Fish in the New York Times revolves around a report by ACTA, the American Council of Trustees and Alumni, as to what should be taught in colleges, including a discussion of his differences over the specific content to be taught in literature classes, it is worthy of a read if only because of what it conveys about the teaching of writing. Brain food.
Hard-Boiled. Every once in a while, I promise myself that I'll read something of note, something deep. I carry around in my purse a dog-eared list of CS Lewis' titles I mean to read some day. Guess I'll have to add another one from this book review in The Weekly Standard. Guess I should start with the Chesterton book; I've only ever read Father Brown (?). Geesh, they're so erudite over there.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
"He Who Controls the Present...
...controls the past" was the party slogan in George Orwell's 1984. Witness the travesty of Eric Holder's Department of Justice: charges of intimidation against three Black Panthers, at least one of whom carried a weapon, at a Philly polling station dropped, Gov. Bill Richardson, being investigated in a pay for play scandal in New Mexico, not to be charged, to be investigated with full bells and whistles, however, is the CIA for abuses against prisoners. It occurs to me Mr. Holder might want to expand his prosecutor's inquiry into such abuses as storming a private residence in the wee hours of the night and brandishing a rather large gun in the face of a terrified 7 year old. Yup, Elian. For Mr. Holder's state of contrition, read here.
As to the elaborate political ballet of President Obama's reluctance to pursue this line of inquiry, a Cuban wit might be tempted to say, "No quiero, no quiero, hechamelo en el sombrero.*"
*translates metaphorically to "Not that, not that, put it in my hat!"
As to the elaborate political ballet of President Obama's reluctance to pursue this line of inquiry, a Cuban wit might be tempted to say, "No quiero, no quiero, hechamelo en el sombrero.*"
*translates metaphorically to "Not that, not that, put it in my hat!"
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Huh?
No offense, the man may be a genius, but how exactly does a Bachelor's Degree from a school of Labor Studies lead to the head of the New York Fed? Sounds pretty Castrian to me.
The Importance of Glenn Beck
Maybe he is a bit too histrionic; perhaps some of his views are reminiscent of the lone gunmen; whatever, Mr. Beck serves an important function as a counterweight to all the weight and mass of a media that is remiss in its obligations at best and either credulous or squarely partisan at worst. For instance, all this week, Beck is lifting the veil and outing the mess of radicals, cronies, and what not who serve in the Obama administration. The web of associations alone is enough to lead even the most reasonable to a degree of unease. It is also information I have yet to come across anywhere else in the Cable News world.
Not surprisingly, then, there is quite a bit of pressure to silence him. After he described President Obama as a racist who hates white people, ColorofChange.org orchestrated a campaign which purportedly resulted in at least 30 sponsors asking their spots not be shown during the program. I don't particularly agree with the comment, and I sorta wish he hadn't said it, but..... Gee, I don't remember that happening to Olbermann when he foamed at the mouth about Bush.
Although news accounts are bruiting the success of the organization in making sponsors run for the hills, a bit of research shows that some major corporations such as Clorox have actually pulled their advertising from political programming on all the cable networks. I pass the information along, including two websites that have been created in support of Beck here and here. Article here.
By the bye, one of the founders of ColorofChange.org is supposedly Van Jones, the green jobs Czar in the current administration.
Mr. Jones about the effect of being arrested after the Rodney King verdict:
"I met all these young radical people of color -- I mean really radical, communists and anarchists. And it was, like, 'This is what I need to be a part of.' I spent the next ten years of my life working with a lot of those people I met in jail, trying to be a revolutionary. I was a rowdy nationalist on April 28th, and then the verdicts came down on April 29th. By August, I was a communist."
The head of the White House Council on Environmental Quality about Mr. Jones:
Van Jones has been a strong voice for green jobs and we look forward to having him work with departments and agencies to advance the President’s agenda of creating 21st century jobs that improve energy efficiency and utilize renewable resources. Jones will also help to shape and advance the Administration’s energy and climate initiatives with a specific interest in improvements and opportunities for vulnerable communities.
Not surprisingly, then, there is quite a bit of pressure to silence him. After he described President Obama as a racist who hates white people, ColorofChange.org orchestrated a campaign which purportedly resulted in at least 30 sponsors asking their spots not be shown during the program. I don't particularly agree with the comment, and I sorta wish he hadn't said it, but..... Gee, I don't remember that happening to Olbermann when he foamed at the mouth about Bush.
Although news accounts are bruiting the success of the organization in making sponsors run for the hills, a bit of research shows that some major corporations such as Clorox have actually pulled their advertising from political programming on all the cable networks. I pass the information along, including two websites that have been created in support of Beck here and here. Article here.
By the bye, one of the founders of ColorofChange.org is supposedly Van Jones, the green jobs Czar in the current administration.
Mr. Jones about the effect of being arrested after the Rodney King verdict:
"I met all these young radical people of color -- I mean really radical, communists and anarchists. And it was, like, 'This is what I need to be a part of.' I spent the next ten years of my life working with a lot of those people I met in jail, trying to be a revolutionary. I was a rowdy nationalist on April 28th, and then the verdicts came down on April 29th. By August, I was a communist."
The head of the White House Council on Environmental Quality about Mr. Jones:
Van Jones has been a strong voice for green jobs and we look forward to having him work with departments and agencies to advance the President’s agenda of creating 21st century jobs that improve energy efficiency and utilize renewable resources. Jones will also help to shape and advance the Administration’s energy and climate initiatives with a specific interest in improvements and opportunities for vulnerable communities.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Meanderings: Losses of All Kinds
The other day, Val at Babalu linked to an interview with one of the grand ladies of Cuban song, Olga Guillot. Listening was a bittersweet experience for me, as the people who introduced me to Olga in the form of a "longplain," my parents, are no longer around. Olga's very Cuban speech evoked my very real sense of loss.
I've lost much in the past few years, whether the last vestiges of youth, or the daughter who followed her dream out to the West Coast. The loss of my mother, painful as it still is, signalled yet another loss. My house, which for decades rang with the sounds of family- the loudest, Cuban- is strangely silent. And if you can be said to rattle around in four rooms, I do so. There is no one to cook for, no one to take care of, no one with whom to speak Spanish in a natural, spontaneous way. There is no one to bathe my kitchen within a three foot radius of the stove in oil from cooking masitas de puerco.
You see, I not only lost my mother, but I lost a part of myself. As a child, growing up in a world which judged me and mine, I hated being different. I thought there would be nothing better in the world than to be named Holly or something equally Anglo, to have parents with freckles who didn't think the Girl Scouts were a potentially life-threatening organization (something about lakes) and who didn't roll their r's. And now, here I am in white bread Sarasota, just about the entire older generation gone, my contemporaries like me, more comfortable in English, and terribly diminished. I have no more immediate Cuban ties, other than those to the relatives left behind. In a weird irony, I have realized a childhood dream only to find it is more of a pesadilla* from which I will not wake up and be comforted by Mami.
*bad dream, not quite as dramatic as a nightmare.
I've lost much in the past few years, whether the last vestiges of youth, or the daughter who followed her dream out to the West Coast. The loss of my mother, painful as it still is, signalled yet another loss. My house, which for decades rang with the sounds of family- the loudest, Cuban- is strangely silent. And if you can be said to rattle around in four rooms, I do so. There is no one to cook for, no one to take care of, no one with whom to speak Spanish in a natural, spontaneous way. There is no one to bathe my kitchen within a three foot radius of the stove in oil from cooking masitas de puerco.
You see, I not only lost my mother, but I lost a part of myself. As a child, growing up in a world which judged me and mine, I hated being different. I thought there would be nothing better in the world than to be named Holly or something equally Anglo, to have parents with freckles who didn't think the Girl Scouts were a potentially life-threatening organization (something about lakes) and who didn't roll their r's. And now, here I am in white bread Sarasota, just about the entire older generation gone, my contemporaries like me, more comfortable in English, and terribly diminished. I have no more immediate Cuban ties, other than those to the relatives left behind. In a weird irony, I have realized a childhood dream only to find it is more of a pesadilla* from which I will not wake up and be comforted by Mami.
*bad dream, not quite as dramatic as a nightmare.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
In Which I am Confused and Horrified over Healthcare
Since there is no clear outline of the details of the various healthcare bills being considered (maybe I'm crazy, but I have this thought that in the dim mists of my youth the Daily News would have had the competing bills broken down to bullet points) in their absence I am left to contemplate all sorts of things. I object to any one of the bills first and foremost because, overdrawn as we are, this is not the time to get into a massive spending program. We seem to have done enough of that in the past half year or so.
But the other night, I was shocked to hear Dick Morris indicate that the Medicare HMO's will be gone under the overhaul. I lived this with my now deceased mother, who was hemorrhaging money until Bush upped the reimbursement rate and the HMO's returned to Sarasota. Have you ever noticed that the very same politicians who vaunt the public school system all the while they send their own children to private schools are the same ones who hail Medicare? Memo: Medicare pays 80% of what they decree a medical service is worth which is not usually what the provider charges. Unless the provider accepts assignment, which not everyone does, the senior pays the 20% balance plus the difference. It adds up, as seniors are prone to a range of illnesses and conditions.
Of course, not having read them, I'm not sure what's in any of the bills. I'm not alone, though, seems the pols haven't either.
But the other night, I was shocked to hear Dick Morris indicate that the Medicare HMO's will be gone under the overhaul. I lived this with my now deceased mother, who was hemorrhaging money until Bush upped the reimbursement rate and the HMO's returned to Sarasota. Have you ever noticed that the very same politicians who vaunt the public school system all the while they send their own children to private schools are the same ones who hail Medicare? Memo: Medicare pays 80% of what they decree a medical service is worth which is not usually what the provider charges. Unless the provider accepts assignment, which not everyone does, the senior pays the 20% balance plus the difference. It adds up, as seniors are prone to a range of illnesses and conditions.
Of course, not having read them, I'm not sure what's in any of the bills. I'm not alone, though, seems the pols haven't either.
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