The success of the book and TV series "S*** my dad said" (the book is hysterical, I haven't seen the William Shatner TV show--he's still Captain Kirk to me....) inspired me to try to write down some of the pithy wisdom of my maternal Grandmother, Lina Manona Sadler Jones. There were 16 of us first cousins--I was next to the youngest. My Uncle Harvey and Aunt Elsie adopted Denise when I was a teenager and she was 6 or 7. So, until she entered the family I'd had a long run and the youngest of 15 first cousins. And people wonder why I'm spoiled....
Mam-maw, which is what we called her, was a saintly woman, a real church goer and played piano for the Pilgrim Holiness Church in Conklintown, WV. She was also very funny and not a little wise.
I'll just give you three of her sayings.
Mam-maw divided the world into "Church People" and "non Church People". She was pretty inclusive since "Church People" contained more than just Pilgrim Holiness folks. But not Roman Catholics, which isn't as bad as it sounds since I doubt if she knew more than a handful of RC's in her life. There certainly weren't any in Conklintown or O'Toole and probably not in Jenkinjones. There were two Catholic families in Anawalt and Mam-maw once said of Mrs. Sante, who taught second grade at Anawalt Junior High School, "Mrs. Sante is like church people...." She'd say, "Those Thompkins girls used to be church people" or, 'does that boy you play with come from Church People?" I'm kinda the same way--but for me the world is divided into "Pet people" and people who don't have pets. I don't get people who aren't "Pet people", they aren't like me....
The two sayings I've been thinking about recently are these:
"You have to be bigger than the weather...." When any of us would complain that it's too hot, too cold, to rainy, too dry, she would shake her head and say "You've got to be bigger than the weather...go out and play (or) go read a book (or) write someone a letter..." which ever was the medicine for how the weather ailed us.
The other one was "You're old enough that your wants won't hurt you...." That came whenever one of us complained that there was something we didn't have that we really 'wanted'....I still whisper than one to myself from time to time, mostly when I see a Lexus or a Jaguar .
Lord help me, if Mam-maw could hear me say, "It's too cold and snowy, I want spring to come...."
I can hear her delight in stringing together two aphorisms: "Jimmy Gordon, you're old enough that your wants won't hurt you and you need to be bigger than the weather."
I'm not sure if Episcopalians qualified as 'church people' but since my cousin Mejol and I both ended up Anglican and since Mam-maw's grandchildren, willful, want-ful and whiny as they were, ultimately could do no wrong in her eyes, we probably would make the "church people" cut....
Monday, January 24, 2011
Friday, January 21, 2011
trying to be flexible
I wrote what I readily admit was a rant about Face book. My apologies to many--especially M.C.--for that. the comments told me I was being unreasonable and inflexible. So today I offered friend-ness (not friendship, that isn't mutually exclusive--but it isn't the same thing) to a whole bunch of people. I got lots of emails saying so-and-so accepted my invitation to friend-ness. I also got messages from people. And someone wrote on my 'wall'. So I spent well over an hour trying to figure out what 'my wall' was and to negotiate the Face book universe. They kept asking me for my password--which I know...it is ******. But every time I changed screens, they asked me for ****** again and promised me that Face Book--like an entity, would not remember my password.
Why? I wondered since everyone else gives me that choice like Blogger.Com and everyone else.
So I spent over an hour I could have spent writing or shoveling snow, reading or shoveling snow, going to the library or shoveling snow, pondering deep thoughts or shoveling snow...you get the idea.
I need a guide and mentor to negotiate Face Book. I have no idea how to send a message and , beyond that, no idea where my message would go--all my 'friends'? nowhere? everywhere?
Look, it took me several weeks to learn how to send an e-mail and longer than that to learn how to blog successfully. If Face Book takes as much time as I spent today--to no value so far as I can tell--why would I ever look at it? Plus I had all these messages from people I know--my friend-ness peeps--that I don't know how to respond to or if I should.
I feel like a stranger in the strange land of Face Book. If today is any example, I don't have time to do it. Plus, how do I get rid of the dozens of messages? Plus/plus, what do I do about all the people who want friend-ness extended, about 200 until I quit counting, most of whom I don't know but who share a friend-ness person or two with me, so they say?
To me, at this point, Face Book is neither "social" or a "network" in any way I consider those two terms.
What do I do? Don't "Face Book me"--what a weird verb, by the way--email me or call me with advice. Or, best of all, write me a letter and send it through the mail. I really pay attention to letters since I get so few in this age of electronic communication. Like, for example, this blog.....
Why? I wondered since everyone else gives me that choice like Blogger.Com and everyone else.
So I spent over an hour I could have spent writing or shoveling snow, reading or shoveling snow, going to the library or shoveling snow, pondering deep thoughts or shoveling snow...you get the idea.
I need a guide and mentor to negotiate Face Book. I have no idea how to send a message and , beyond that, no idea where my message would go--all my 'friends'? nowhere? everywhere?
Look, it took me several weeks to learn how to send an e-mail and longer than that to learn how to blog successfully. If Face Book takes as much time as I spent today--to no value so far as I can tell--why would I ever look at it? Plus I had all these messages from people I know--my friend-ness peeps--that I don't know how to respond to or if I should.
I feel like a stranger in the strange land of Face Book. If today is any example, I don't have time to do it. Plus, how do I get rid of the dozens of messages? Plus/plus, what do I do about all the people who want friend-ness extended, about 200 until I quit counting, most of whom I don't know but who share a friend-ness person or two with me, so they say?
To me, at this point, Face Book is neither "social" or a "network" in any way I consider those two terms.
What do I do? Don't "Face Book me"--what a weird verb, by the way--email me or call me with advice. Or, best of all, write me a letter and send it through the mail. I really pay attention to letters since I get so few in this age of electronic communication. Like, for example, this blog.....
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
it isn't finished....
Yesterday I shoveled slush and ice for 90 minutes with my neighbor. It didn't take as long as the big snow did, but it was harder, heavier, messier. The big snow shoveling was like a great workout--yesterday was like torture! Besides, I leaned out all out upstairs window with a putter and knocked down all the icicles I could reach. Some were taller than me....then I heard on the radio that it isn't finished...more snow, maybe another foot, on Friday. It isn't finished.
I'm supply priest at Emmanuel, Killingworth this month. It's a great little church full of interesting people. This coming Sunday is the Annual Meeting and a lunch so the Sr. Warden politely suggested it might be best to cut my sermon a little short....though I don't think of them as very long. I of course agreed and was reminded of my making that request to someone years ago. I thought I'd share that story here.
Back, 20+ years ago, when I arrived at St. John's Waterbury, the parish was a member of the WACC (Waterbury Area Council of Churches). The tradition, on Good Friday, was to meet at one church or another for 'the seven last words of Christ', during which seven preachers preached seven short sermons....Since WACC had member churches from Episcopal to Church of God, that was quite a collection of preachers. Sometimes it was really good and sometimes it was dreadful.
I missed the Episcopal Good Friday service--three hours of readings, music and silence (mostly silence). I convinced the WACC worship committee that we could have the best of both worlds, that I could fit the 7 sermons into the Good Friday liturgy. So that's what we did for years until the WACC became interfaith. At that point it became clear to me that WACC could no longer sponsor a 'Good Friday' service. There was some resistance. One member even said, "Why can't we made Good Friday and inter-faith service?" At first I just stared and then tried to explain that Good Friday is distinctly Christian. It would be like trying to have an Inter-Faith Passover or an Inter-Faith Ramadan . The questioner wasn't convinced but the rest of the worship committee was.
The last Good Friday Liturgy/communion from the reserved sacrament/ 7 last words of Christ service (which never 'really' fit together all that well) was the most exciting. The first five words went over well. I told preachers they had to say within 7 minutes and the first 5 did. But the sixth word sermon was by the local AME pastor and I knew he was going to exceed the time limit because of the look he gave me when I'd told him, the week before, to hold it to 7 minutes. He didn't disappoint. He passed 10 minutes, then 12 and at that point he said, "let us return now to Bethlehem...." I wanted to shout, "You're headed in the wrong direction...."
He stopped after 22 minutes in which he covered all the major points of Jesus' life and a good chunk of AME theology.
In the silence that followed, I went to Maner Tyson, the Southern Baptist and my good friend. "There are Southern Baptists and then there's Maner," I always say.
"Maner", I whispered, "you have to cut the 7th word down to a minute...."
"It won't take even that long," he said.
The Last of the Last Words is: "It is finished."
The passage was read and Maner got up to preach.
"When he died," Maner told us, "Jesus said 'it is finished'...." He paused a moment, looking at the congregation, "But we know it wasn't....Amen."
One of the best sermons I ever heard....
I'm supply priest at Emmanuel, Killingworth this month. It's a great little church full of interesting people. This coming Sunday is the Annual Meeting and a lunch so the Sr. Warden politely suggested it might be best to cut my sermon a little short....though I don't think of them as very long. I of course agreed and was reminded of my making that request to someone years ago. I thought I'd share that story here.
Back, 20+ years ago, when I arrived at St. John's Waterbury, the parish was a member of the WACC (Waterbury Area Council of Churches). The tradition, on Good Friday, was to meet at one church or another for 'the seven last words of Christ', during which seven preachers preached seven short sermons....Since WACC had member churches from Episcopal to Church of God, that was quite a collection of preachers. Sometimes it was really good and sometimes it was dreadful.
I missed the Episcopal Good Friday service--three hours of readings, music and silence (mostly silence). I convinced the WACC worship committee that we could have the best of both worlds, that I could fit the 7 sermons into the Good Friday liturgy. So that's what we did for years until the WACC became interfaith. At that point it became clear to me that WACC could no longer sponsor a 'Good Friday' service. There was some resistance. One member even said, "Why can't we made Good Friday and inter-faith service?" At first I just stared and then tried to explain that Good Friday is distinctly Christian. It would be like trying to have an Inter-Faith Passover or an Inter-Faith Ramadan . The questioner wasn't convinced but the rest of the worship committee was.
The last Good Friday Liturgy/communion from the reserved sacrament/ 7 last words of Christ service (which never 'really' fit together all that well) was the most exciting. The first five words went over well. I told preachers they had to say within 7 minutes and the first 5 did. But the sixth word sermon was by the local AME pastor and I knew he was going to exceed the time limit because of the look he gave me when I'd told him, the week before, to hold it to 7 minutes. He didn't disappoint. He passed 10 minutes, then 12 and at that point he said, "let us return now to Bethlehem...." I wanted to shout, "You're headed in the wrong direction...."
He stopped after 22 minutes in which he covered all the major points of Jesus' life and a good chunk of AME theology.
In the silence that followed, I went to Maner Tyson, the Southern Baptist and my good friend. "There are Southern Baptists and then there's Maner," I always say.
"Maner", I whispered, "you have to cut the 7th word down to a minute...."
"It won't take even that long," he said.
The Last of the Last Words is: "It is finished."
The passage was read and Maner got up to preach.
"When he died," Maner told us, "Jesus said 'it is finished'...." He paused a moment, looking at the congregation, "But we know it wasn't....Amen."
One of the best sermons I ever heard....
Sunday, January 16, 2011
best day in a long time
Ok, I'm a sports nut. I love the teams I love and hate the teams I hate.
Today was a very good day.
WVU beat Purdue in Basketball.
the Bears won in football (the Bears are my favorite NFL team)
New England lost in football (I hate New England most of all NFL teams)
Notre Dame lost in basketball (my two favorite college sports teams are WVU and whoever beats Notre Dame.
Not a bad day at all--in fact, the best day in a long time for my sports obsession.
Today was a very good day.
WVU beat Purdue in Basketball.
the Bears won in football (the Bears are my favorite NFL team)
New England lost in football (I hate New England most of all NFL teams)
Notre Dame lost in basketball (my two favorite college sports teams are WVU and whoever beats Notre Dame.
Not a bad day at all--in fact, the best day in a long time for my sports obsession.
Monday, January 10, 2011
blood tests
I have to go get a blood test today. It's just routine, something I've had to do every six months or so since my cancer surgery 6 years ago. In the last couple of years, the 'sticker'--which I've learned is what blood drawers call themselves--has had trouble finding a vein in my arm. They either stick me multiple times (the proud ones) or simply take it from the back of my hand (the humble, gentle kind). Since I've lost some weight I wonder if they can take it easily from my arm this time....
The "requisition' for my blood--an interesting term--has over a hundred possible tests the doctor could check to tell the lab which test to do. And in spite of that, he wrote in a number for the test. It is a wonder to me about the secrets and mysteries that flow through the blood. It is astonishing what can be determined from a little vial of fluid from your veins. Blood carries with it so many things both obvious and deeply hidden.
We were down in Baltimore with my son's family this weekend. It was a great visit made greater by the fact that, on the way back, we didn't even slow down in the Speed Pass lane at the George Washington Bridge. Usually for a day or two before we go down or come back, I wonder and worry about the GWB and how much time we'll spend there.
As I was thinking about my blood test last night, I was pondering the absolute miracle of blood. Tegan, the 14 month old granddaughter, for a brief while half-a-year ago, looked so much like my daughter, her aunt, that it was eerie. I remember comparing pictures of the two and being astounded that, if it were not that Tegan's photo was obviously newer and of a more technically advanced quality that I would not have been able to say which was which. Tegan no longer looks like Mimi. Bern was holding her on her lap while Tegan played with Bern's face, and said, "who do you look like?"
Blood carries the characteristics of appearance within it. We 'look like' people because of blood. You know how you've said to a new mother, 'the baby has your eyes and her dad's nose'. Blood will win out, sculpturing our images in familiar ways.
Then my cousin and her two grown children and her son's two boys (5 and 7) came over for a visit. Another 3 generation group of people. I was astonished by how much Mejol's son looks like her and I could see characteristics of the Jones-look (mine and Mejol's shared blood) in her daughter.
Blood flows through generations the way water flows through streams, meeting other streams as the generations meet and mix. Fletcher's face may look like his mother's, but he is 6'4" or so and Mejol is 5' at best. Fletcher's father's blood gave him his height.
It is fun to ponder blood. On the way home Bern and I were saying one of our twin granddaughter's temperament is more like Josh while the other's is more like Cathy, her mother. I notice it in our two children. "You got that from your mother," I'll tell them--usually about characteristics that are less than desirable! But it is true, I see in my son's oppositional-ness, my own tendency to argue and stir up chaos. My daughter's introversion comes from her mother just as out-going Josh is like me. Both of them, luckily, got their musical aptitude from Bern! Already, Morgan and Emma carry tunes better than I do. That must be from their Chen blood and from Bern's!
I could go on and on but I need to go see my sticker.
You might want to ponder the incredible information blood carries and passes on in your own generations....
The "requisition' for my blood--an interesting term--has over a hundred possible tests the doctor could check to tell the lab which test to do. And in spite of that, he wrote in a number for the test. It is a wonder to me about the secrets and mysteries that flow through the blood. It is astonishing what can be determined from a little vial of fluid from your veins. Blood carries with it so many things both obvious and deeply hidden.
We were down in Baltimore with my son's family this weekend. It was a great visit made greater by the fact that, on the way back, we didn't even slow down in the Speed Pass lane at the George Washington Bridge. Usually for a day or two before we go down or come back, I wonder and worry about the GWB and how much time we'll spend there.
As I was thinking about my blood test last night, I was pondering the absolute miracle of blood. Tegan, the 14 month old granddaughter, for a brief while half-a-year ago, looked so much like my daughter, her aunt, that it was eerie. I remember comparing pictures of the two and being astounded that, if it were not that Tegan's photo was obviously newer and of a more technically advanced quality that I would not have been able to say which was which. Tegan no longer looks like Mimi. Bern was holding her on her lap while Tegan played with Bern's face, and said, "who do you look like?"
Blood carries the characteristics of appearance within it. We 'look like' people because of blood. You know how you've said to a new mother, 'the baby has your eyes and her dad's nose'. Blood will win out, sculpturing our images in familiar ways.
Then my cousin and her two grown children and her son's two boys (5 and 7) came over for a visit. Another 3 generation group of people. I was astonished by how much Mejol's son looks like her and I could see characteristics of the Jones-look (mine and Mejol's shared blood) in her daughter.
Blood flows through generations the way water flows through streams, meeting other streams as the generations meet and mix. Fletcher's face may look like his mother's, but he is 6'4" or so and Mejol is 5' at best. Fletcher's father's blood gave him his height.
It is fun to ponder blood. On the way home Bern and I were saying one of our twin granddaughter's temperament is more like Josh while the other's is more like Cathy, her mother. I notice it in our two children. "You got that from your mother," I'll tell them--usually about characteristics that are less than desirable! But it is true, I see in my son's oppositional-ness, my own tendency to argue and stir up chaos. My daughter's introversion comes from her mother just as out-going Josh is like me. Both of them, luckily, got their musical aptitude from Bern! Already, Morgan and Emma carry tunes better than I do. That must be from their Chen blood and from Bern's!
I could go on and on but I need to go see my sticker.
You might want to ponder the incredible information blood carries and passes on in your own generations....
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Facebook and what I fear is the truth about the world
Ok, so I got an email that had a link that sent me to my Facebook page. My Facebook page wasn't my idea, Scott Moore, I think, set it up and I looked at it once in over a year since tonight and tonight only by accident.
I just don't get it.
I clicked on a whole bunch of stuff people I love had somehow (in ways I don't understand) put there and I didn't get what the point was from what they put there and mostly none of it made sense to me.
There were lots of somebody "likes" something or another and I had no idea what that meant or was supposed to mean or anything about it.
Why are all these people depositing messages (I guess they are messages I simply can't comprehend) on a Facebook page I've now looked at twice in a year?
It was mesmerizing in a way--pictures of people I love beside the messages I simply don't comprehend or know why they were sent to me.
I saw some pictures of my children and my grandchildren that I didn't know existed and was glad--yo, Glad--to see. Yet I simply don't 'get' the "Social Network" and don't have any idea at all why I would look at it more often than once ever 6 months or so, and then by accident.
So, don't rain on my parade or post on my web or write on my 'wall'--that whole image is really beyond my ken--unless it doesn't matter that I won't see it for half-a-year and then by accident.
Face Book, it seems to me, is really...well, I don't have a word for it.
People tell me how great it is. I find it mundane and silly. Sorry. Maybe I've entered the part of life know as being an 'old fart'.
CALL ME. Even E-mail me. Don't put stuff on my Face Book which I will next view in August 2011.
My theory is that Face Book Shit is stuff that isn't important enough for a email or a call (that to me is about three levels higher than an email) or, God forbid, in this 'social network' era, actually seeing me face to face.
People tell me they like to keep up with the little details of their friends lives on facebook. I really don't care about 'the little details', those seem to me to be private and, by the way, not that interesting--(I had a message on my board or my wall or my whatever that one of my friends was thinking about ordering a pizza....I just don't care what you eat. Really, maybe I'm insensitive, but keep your menus to yourselves and stay off my Face Book page.) But I won't see it until August so, hey, do what you want.
But if you want to be in my 'social network', give me a call, let's get together. I really aren't interested in what you watched on Tv or had for dinner.
I am INTERESTED in you. I just want to do that interest voice to voice or face to face.
So I'm a troglodyte , so true, so true.
I love you all....But not on Face Book.....
I just don't get it.
I clicked on a whole bunch of stuff people I love had somehow (in ways I don't understand) put there and I didn't get what the point was from what they put there and mostly none of it made sense to me.
There were lots of somebody "likes" something or another and I had no idea what that meant or was supposed to mean or anything about it.
Why are all these people depositing messages (I guess they are messages I simply can't comprehend) on a Facebook page I've now looked at twice in a year?
It was mesmerizing in a way--pictures of people I love beside the messages I simply don't comprehend or know why they were sent to me.
I saw some pictures of my children and my grandchildren that I didn't know existed and was glad--yo, Glad--to see. Yet I simply don't 'get' the "Social Network" and don't have any idea at all why I would look at it more often than once ever 6 months or so, and then by accident.
So, don't rain on my parade or post on my web or write on my 'wall'--that whole image is really beyond my ken--unless it doesn't matter that I won't see it for half-a-year and then by accident.
Face Book, it seems to me, is really...well, I don't have a word for it.
People tell me how great it is. I find it mundane and silly. Sorry. Maybe I've entered the part of life know as being an 'old fart'.
CALL ME. Even E-mail me. Don't put stuff on my Face Book which I will next view in August 2011.
My theory is that Face Book Shit is stuff that isn't important enough for a email or a call (that to me is about three levels higher than an email) or, God forbid, in this 'social network' era, actually seeing me face to face.
People tell me they like to keep up with the little details of their friends lives on facebook. I really don't care about 'the little details', those seem to me to be private and, by the way, not that interesting--(I had a message on my board or my wall or my whatever that one of my friends was thinking about ordering a pizza....I just don't care what you eat. Really, maybe I'm insensitive, but keep your menus to yourselves and stay off my Face Book page.) But I won't see it until August so, hey, do what you want.
But if you want to be in my 'social network', give me a call, let's get together. I really aren't interested in what you watched on Tv or had for dinner.
I am INTERESTED in you. I just want to do that interest voice to voice or face to face.
So I'm a troglodyte , so true, so true.
I love you all....But not on Face Book.....
Surviving Day One
So I've lived through the first day of the Republican/Tea Party take over of the House of Representatives. Nothing much feels different...yet....
They read the Constitution on the Floor of the House today. A rather shallow symbolic act since the Constitution, like the Bible, isn't in what the words say but how we interpret those words. Returning to the 'will of the Founding Fathers' would put people back in slavery and take the vote from the majority of voters--women. The Constitution (I was a Poly Sci minor in college, after all!) is a 'living document'. Look how many times we've amended it (over 20 now) and for good reason. 1776 was so long ago and the culture of that time so profoundly different that if we didn't find reason to amend what the writers said (and amendment is difficult and comes only with great effort) we'd still be wearing waist coats and bustles and wigs for men....well, there are wigs for men, I know, but they aren't white and powdered.
A long time ago, I wrote about why I'm a Democrat and promised more.
This is the more.
Not only am I a yellow dog Democrat (you know what that means, right? If the Virgin Mary was running as a Republican and a Labrador Retriever was running as a Democrat, I'd vote for the yellow dog) I can't figure out why anyone is a Republican.
The Vice Chair of the Republican National Committee said today that anyone who was 'pro choice' couldn't be a Republican. I don't mind at all that some 'anti abortion' folks are Democrats, makes for good conversation and a lot of yelling. And, though two members of Integrity (gay/lesbian/bi-sexual/transgendered Episcopalians and their friends) left the chapter after I asked them how on earth they could vote Republican, I really don't get the Log Cabin Republicans (G/L/B/T Republicans). And how could anyone of color be a Republican given their record on opposing sane immigration reform and being hesitant to fully support the Civil Rights Legislation over the years. And women: my Lord, how can a woman be a Republican? Sarah Palin is as alien to me as Yoda or Yogi Bear.
But then my problem has always been that I think of myself as the 'norm'. I am genuinely surprised when anyone disagrees with me. I don't mind, since I love a good argument, but, for heaven's sake, I AM THE NORM.
I don't know why the tally in any election isn't: Democrat 'the total number of votes cast' and Republican 'zero'. 'Course, in my world, no one would run as a Republican anyway.
My father was a Republican. He was a coal-miner who was a Republican. Go figure. But he was a gentle man open to discussion. There used to be a lot of those kinds of Republicans: Nelson Rockefeller, Senator Brooke, President Eisenhower, Everit Dirkson, Chief Justice Earl Warren, even, God bless him, Gerald Ford--and Margaret Chase Smith, Senator from Maine (Olympia Snow from Maine may still be one of those--the Republicans need to find out what's in the water in Maine.) Where have all those 'Republicans' gone, long time passing....
My father might be a Democrat today if he got a look at what is becoming more and more the norm for Republican office holders--shrill, ultra-conservative, nightmarishly negative about health care, the environment, taxes, the Commerce Clause of their beloved Constitution, gun control, gay marriage, abortion, social services, medicare, social security (which I'm especially sensitive about since I get my check the third Wednesday of each month), talking to your adversaries as foreign policy, government regulation, stem cell research....oh, I could probably list another dozen or so things, but it would be over-kill.
You know that bumper sticker the NRA produced a decade or so ago? The one about, "When they take my gun they'll have to pry away my cold, dead fingers"....remember that one?
I feel that way about being a "Liberal". I honestly hope I'll be one of the last (liberals love doomsday scenarios!) I even reject the new, ready for prime time, gentler and softer label of "Progressive". Don't call me a 'Progressive'. I don't fear the 'L word'. I'm a liberal through and through.
I've survived Day One. I'll let you know how I'm faring as we go along into this dreadful night....
They read the Constitution on the Floor of the House today. A rather shallow symbolic act since the Constitution, like the Bible, isn't in what the words say but how we interpret those words. Returning to the 'will of the Founding Fathers' would put people back in slavery and take the vote from the majority of voters--women. The Constitution (I was a Poly Sci minor in college, after all!) is a 'living document'. Look how many times we've amended it (over 20 now) and for good reason. 1776 was so long ago and the culture of that time so profoundly different that if we didn't find reason to amend what the writers said (and amendment is difficult and comes only with great effort) we'd still be wearing waist coats and bustles and wigs for men....well, there are wigs for men, I know, but they aren't white and powdered.
A long time ago, I wrote about why I'm a Democrat and promised more.
This is the more.
Not only am I a yellow dog Democrat (you know what that means, right? If the Virgin Mary was running as a Republican and a Labrador Retriever was running as a Democrat, I'd vote for the yellow dog) I can't figure out why anyone is a Republican.
The Vice Chair of the Republican National Committee said today that anyone who was 'pro choice' couldn't be a Republican. I don't mind at all that some 'anti abortion' folks are Democrats, makes for good conversation and a lot of yelling. And, though two members of Integrity (gay/lesbian/bi-sexual/transgendered Episcopalians and their friends) left the chapter after I asked them how on earth they could vote Republican, I really don't get the Log Cabin Republicans (G/L/B/T Republicans). And how could anyone of color be a Republican given their record on opposing sane immigration reform and being hesitant to fully support the Civil Rights Legislation over the years. And women: my Lord, how can a woman be a Republican? Sarah Palin is as alien to me as Yoda or Yogi Bear.
But then my problem has always been that I think of myself as the 'norm'. I am genuinely surprised when anyone disagrees with me. I don't mind, since I love a good argument, but, for heaven's sake, I AM THE NORM.
I don't know why the tally in any election isn't: Democrat 'the total number of votes cast' and Republican 'zero'. 'Course, in my world, no one would run as a Republican anyway.
My father was a Republican. He was a coal-miner who was a Republican. Go figure. But he was a gentle man open to discussion. There used to be a lot of those kinds of Republicans: Nelson Rockefeller, Senator Brooke, President Eisenhower, Everit Dirkson, Chief Justice Earl Warren, even, God bless him, Gerald Ford--and Margaret Chase Smith, Senator from Maine (Olympia Snow from Maine may still be one of those--the Republicans need to find out what's in the water in Maine.) Where have all those 'Republicans' gone, long time passing....
My father might be a Democrat today if he got a look at what is becoming more and more the norm for Republican office holders--shrill, ultra-conservative, nightmarishly negative about health care, the environment, taxes, the Commerce Clause of their beloved Constitution, gun control, gay marriage, abortion, social services, medicare, social security (which I'm especially sensitive about since I get my check the third Wednesday of each month), talking to your adversaries as foreign policy, government regulation, stem cell research....oh, I could probably list another dozen or so things, but it would be over-kill.
You know that bumper sticker the NRA produced a decade or so ago? The one about, "When they take my gun they'll have to pry away my cold, dead fingers"....remember that one?
I feel that way about being a "Liberal". I honestly hope I'll be one of the last (liberals love doomsday scenarios!) I even reject the new, ready for prime time, gentler and softer label of "Progressive". Don't call me a 'Progressive'. I don't fear the 'L word'. I'm a liberal through and through.
I've survived Day One. I'll let you know how I'm faring as we go along into this dreadful night....
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