RumourNation

9/11: The Man in the Red Bandana

It opens today, the 9/11 Memorial.  I'm watching the opening service, where family members read the names of those who died, a liturgy made of missing lives and a mournful fugue by Yo-Yo Ma.   It's heartbreaking to see the kids, most of whom who are now young teenagers, who've been denied the love of their mothers and fathers for a decade now. 

The Memorial itself is breathtaking, an endless waterfall into a deep pool, surrounded by the nearly 3,000 names of those who died that day, who died for simply being American.  We see the families as they walk into the plaza for the first time, hunting for their loved ones.  They react, simply and quietly, when they find a beloved name:  they reach out and touch it. 

I'm struck, as the names are read, by how many family members are themselves New York City firefighters and police officers, by the depth of the bonds of honor, service and duty that exist in a city that many think of as being huge and faceless. Then I hear one father say " ... and my son, Welles Remy Crowther, the man in the red bandana." 

If you haven't heard Welles' story, watch this lovely short video by ESPN.  Why ESPN?  Because Welles was a lacrosse star at Boston College.  He was a securities trader who really wanted to be a New York City firefighter.  He always carried a red bandana.  And he was responsible for saving at least 12 people in the South Tower of the World Trade Center on 9/11, despite the fact that he could have left the building at any time, and survived.   

When I hear Welles' story, and the story of Flight 93, the tales of the first responders who entered the buildings with no fear, who died while rescuing their fellow countrymen, I'm saddened. 

What did they die for?  For fights over the debt ceiling?  For a banking system that profiteers while denying working capital to small businesses?  So politicans could stand up and say that hurricanes and earthquakes are the result of sinful living? 

I don't think the men and women who helped each other that day gave a rat's ass about who had health insurance, who was married to whom, whether or not the person they hauled out of the building was a "real" American.  All they cared about was the fact that their fellow travelers, human beings who were attacked for simply being alive, needed help. 

I want to live in the country that those folks come from.  The one where we care about each other, where our differences are valued, not maligned, where (to paraphrase), a man is not judged by the contents of his wallet, but by the content of his character. 

We've blown it, my friends.  We squandered the chance to make ourselves stronger, instead opted for a catfight about meritocracy and special interests.  We can fix it, if we try.  But it involves calling our elected representatives -- and those who desire to be our elected representatives -- on their shit.  It involves not devolving to personal attacks on those who hold differing opinions, who worship different gods, who have more melanin in their skins.  It involves remembering the very words that our founding fathers (and mothers) adopted in an act of Congress in 1782:   E pluribus unum.  Out of many, one. 

Not one out of those who think like me.  Not one out of those who "deserve" it.  Not one out those who worship my god.  Out of many, one. 

I leave you with the words of the formidable Archibald MacLeish:

"There are those who will say that the liberation of humanity, the freedom of man and mind is nothing but a dream. They are right. It is the American Dream." 

Don't give up on the dream. 

Enough.

I've been crying all morning.  In anger and in sadness.   Because, as the grown-ups --a minority!--who populate our country have been predicting for some time, it's come true:  a non-Tea Party member of Congress got shot for doing her job.   It's impossible to glorify violence, and guns, and to talk about your political opponents as traitors deserving of death, without seeing your words come to life. 

And the objects of all this vitriol?  People who have voted for things like extending healthcare to more Americans, keeping unemployment benefits in place, allowing all citizens to serve in the military regardless of sexual orientation. 

"But," Palin apologists protest, "Our graphics with crosshairs on them have nothing to do with violence!  And Sarah doesn't mean it when she uses words like 'bulls-eye'!  And she doesn't shoot those moose just for fun!"

"But," adds Michelle Malkin, "The Daily Kos called for Gabby Giffords' death just last week!"

"But," adds Tea Party Nation founder Judson Phillips, "Giffords is a liberal!" 

Let's take a moment to look at some of those affected, and the losses, from yesterday's shooting.  Giffords is the first Jewish woman elected to Congress from Arizona, a Democrat representing a staunchly Republican district, and a supporter of such decidedly non-liberal stances as strong immigration laws and, ironically, gun owership.  She just defeated a Tea Party candidate to keep her seat.  She's also a Fulbright scholar.  And her husband, Mark Kelly, is a freakin' astronaut.  An ASTRONAUT. 

Among those murdered:  Giffords' head of community outreach, who was a respected young social worker; John Roll, a highly-regarded Federal judge with nearly 40 years of government service; and a nine-year-old girl whose birthday was 9/11/2001.

Giffords and her Arizona colleague, Raul Grijalva, have been targets of violence for months, as had Judge Roll.  Vandalism, death threats, and guns at town halls had become a fact of life.  The reason:  because they held humanistic views on immigration reform.

Tea Party leaders, and those Republicans who have enabled them, are decrying any notion of a relationship between the deranged perpetrator of yesterday's shootings and right-wing political rhetoric.  Perhaps they are correct.  But I would bet my recession-plundered savings to say that the vandals, gun carriers and death-threat-issuers who have attacked Giffords, Grijalva and Roll over the past year HAVE been Tea Party members. 

Because here's the truth:  Tea Party rhetoric implies that it is right to employ violence against fellow Americans who hold different political ideologies.  Having a different opinion means that you deserve to be shot, just like moose, for simply existing.  

And "different" can be most anything:  if you're not white, and don't believe in a Christian god, you're different.  If you voted for Obama, you're different.  If you think religion has no place in government, you're different.  If you think I'm overstating the problem, just ask my white, Southern mother, who is now afraid to speak her mind in the city where she has lived her entire life.  Her compassion and capability for rational thought now make her "different."

The fact is, as the grown-ups have known for quite some time, Tea Party rhetoric is not about fiscal responsibility or patriotism or unemployment.  It's about fear, and hatred, and an unwillingness to accept the reality of living in a nation that, despite looking very different from the nation of 1776, has managed to survive intact, and make the rule of law and general civility the standard operating procedure, for all its diverse citizens.  It's rather a miracle.  And the supposedly spiritual Tea Party seems intent on destroying it. 

Perhaps Palin and her cronies do not advocate physical violence, but ya betcha, they're pretty good at invoking its imagery.  Makes it easy for some deranged 23-year-old to connect the dots between the crosshairs on a Facebook page and the crosshairs on a real gun, doesn't it?  And to think that he'll be a hero for shooting someone?

Like most of the people I know, I've had enough.  I'm not even particularly liberal, or a Democrat.  But I am an American.  I feel that we've worked hard for our particular miracle of a nation, and I'm not going to stand by and watch us lose it to those who seem to think that Fulbright scholars, astronauts, judges, social workers and schoolchildren are unnecessary frills in our society.  Or that political discourse free from fear is a luxury, not a right. 

I'm going to stand up and block their every move.  My weapons:  compassion, inclusion, love.  My invitation:  To come back from exile in the land of TeaPartania, fellow travelers.  Join us in America, at the grown-ups table.  We've had enough. 

 

The GOP (Grand Old Perjoratives)

I have to 'fess up to being on the fence about national healthcare.  I spent a fair amount of time working for a Canadian company, hearing on the sly about the underbelly of a nationalized system:  it was a little worrisome.  On the other hand, as a single parent who has had to scramble for coverage during a few periods when I've been doing consulting work -- funny how the lack of an outside employer does not relieve you of responsibility for a child! -- having some help with this would indeed be a relief. 

But regardless where I stand on healthcare, Rep. Joe Wilson's outburst last night during President Obama's address to Congress put a fine point on all the issues that have driven moderates like me far away from the Republican party over the past two decades.  Frankly, it's all about respect.  

Some time during the late eighties and the early nineties -- actually, right around the time I became old enough to vote -- rhetoric from the GOP started moving from the positive to the personal.  Folks like me who didn't hew to the party platform, became "unpatriotic."  And with the party's adoption of the evangelical community and the move to start legislating private behavior, the labels got worse -- what was merely "unpatriotic" before was now "destructive" and "evil."  Somehow, the party's agenda became the country's agenda, and the belief system of a few became standard issue for everyone. 

And the folks putting out this POV?  Well, they seemed to take it very, very personally.  To the point where a pasty white lawmaker with his hands deep in the healthcare industry's till would feel that it's appropriate to call the Constitutionally-elected President a liar before both houses of Congress, on national television.  Dude was wrong, BTW, but he did it anyway.

Now, I'm aware of the fact that there are many legislative houses in other countries where that sort of behavior would seem, well, rather banal.  Check out this punching match in India's Parliament, for instance. But hey, they owe their democratic structure to the UK, and we worked really hard to get away from their shenanigans.  

Look, I'll accept the fact that my choices may seem ill-considered, and maybe even idiotic, at times.  But I resent the fact that someone thinks I'm "evil" because I support gay marriage.  Or that I'm "unpatriotic" because I think it was idiotic to start a war in Iraq.

Here's the thing:  I try to do the right thing, by myself, my friends and family, my countrymen and women.  I'm also pretty smart, well-educated, and extremely skilled at researching information.  If you're going to call me a liar, you better have your facts straight, or I'll catch you.  And if you're going to keep calling me names, please make sure you're living a squeaky-clean life, because I'll find out when you're not.   There are approximately 250 million more people like me in these old United States, and we're sick of the disrespect.  You've made it personal, Messrs. Wilson, Cantor, Boehner and Rove.  (And let's not forget you, Ms. Palin!)  You've made it personal, y'all, when for us, it was strictly business.  Don't be surprised when we take you out, and go home with the cannoli.

Catharsis

There's a great column in the LA Times today about the crying epidemic that accompanied Obama's victory in the election last week.  Even pillars of masculinity like Magic Johnson, Will Smith and some guy on YouTube named Sam succumbed, sobbing as if their lives depended on it. 

Most folks attribute the reaction to the fact that we've finally shattered the black-and-red stained glass ceiling that's been the country's biggest divider for the past 250 years.   These people have ignored the evidence that the entertainment business has been predicting this moment for a long time:  24, anyone?  They've had two black presidents (but no women!) on that series.  And don't forget that Morgan Freeman has made an entire career out of playing God. 

Frankly, I think it's a combination of grief and relief:  grief over the general state of affairs; relief that we might be able to finally get back to the business of being the planet's biggest, messiest, loudest and most-watched celebrity--the Chris Rock of the world's political stage, so to speak--a little crazy, but spittin' the truth. 

I myself was standing with a self-described "bunch of Jews" the night of the election, and sure enough, we all cried like babies.  And the resulting round of Obama-parties the following week was exhilarating, as well as exhausting. ("Hey neighbor, what are you doing?"  "Going to another Obama party."  "Hey, me, too!")  Slowly, but surely, the street-dancing is winding down, and people are starting to take stock of what lies ahead.  It ain't pretty, but hey, it's ours, to overcome together.  And I, for one, am hopeful that if we quit dubbing those who don't agree with us "Unamerican," we might actually get there. 

I'm going to try hard, myself.  Too many rounds of Obama-partying created my own personal political fallout:  an overdose on wine, harsh words, the loss of one of the people I've come to care most deeply about over the course of a hard-fought political campaign.  Another kind of catharsis, altogether.  Maybe there's a big hug at the end of this one, too. 

Hope and change, y'all.

This Day

I may have written about this before, but on this day, more than any other day, it bears repeating:

I visited the Reagan Library with my daughter and her best friend a couple of years ago.  Despite my misgivings, my sad memories of the Bush 41-induced recession, and my love for a certain Genesis music video, I went.  And I was very moved, because I saw a man who truly loved his country, who wasn't cynical about the work of governing, who believed with his very soul that our nation should be a shining beacon of hope in a turbulent world.  (And don't underestimate the allure of having your picture taken on Air Force One, even if it's a decommissioned, grounded, old one.  Kinda like an ex-President itself.)

But something happened there that stunned me into silence.  We walked into an entryway decorated with portraits of all the U.S. Presidents.  "Look at this," I said to my daughter and her friend, "Here's our history."

"Where are the girls?"  asked my daughter, immediately.  "And why are they all white?" added her friend, who is Asian. 

I had no answer.  Where ARE the girls? I thought, And WHY are they all white?  What can I say that won't put paid to the idea that anyone can work hard enough and be President? 

Instead, we all made faces at the portrait of Bush 43 and walked out of the room. 

I love looking at Barack Obama's family -- his beautiful wife and kids; photos of him with his mother; his grandparents; his Indonesian stepfather; his sister and her husband, who is Asian, and their tiny daughter.  This polyglot family looks like the country I live in, the country I love and cherish because some way, somehow, despite our varying backgrounds, despite the strains in our affection, despite the differences in our temperaments, we've made it work for more than 200 years. 

And while I would never vote for a man because of the color of his skin, or vote for a woman simply because she is a woman (no way, no how, no Palin), I am delighted that we have chosen a leader who seems to represent all the very best parts of the American dream.  Unfortunately, he is taking the helm of a nation that has been rocked, weakened and stressed, but perhaps this is the golden opportunity we all need, the chance to take a look at our country and ask "How can we make things better?"  And to remind ourselves that that the job of leading our nation used to be considered the greatest honor in the land. 

On this day, I can breathe a sigh of relief.  This day, I can look my daughter in the eye and say "Anyone can be President," and mean it. 

A Shout Out for Keith O.

I touched on this subject before, when I wrote about the homogenous (and homophobic) composition of the Republican National Convention, and warned all those folks who attended that they needed to get out of MY country, because my peeps were here first. 

Of course, I was satirizing the philosophy that's been the dirty underbelly of the GOP for some time, and the very thing that has helped drive conservative-leaning moderates like me into the arms of the Dems:  if you're not with us, you're against us  -- and that means you're Unamerican, with a capital "you."

I'm tired of being labeled this way, especially when I consider the fact that my ancestors were among the very first people who died to create this country in the 18th century, that we've been-- literally-- slaving away here ever since, voting and paying taxes and trying to better the lives of the next generation.  And if the person living next door to me prays facing Mecca on a mat, what do I care?  He seems to be working and voting and paying taxes as well, and he also makes a damn fine falafel. 

So, I'm delighted to give a great big shout-out to Keith Olbermann, who took down the politics of hatred in a ginormous way last night.  I only wish I had Tivo'd it so I could watch it over and over again on my big, Unamerican flat-screen teevee:

 

I also have some news for Nancy Ppppppfotennhoouuuor:  My family's from the "real" Virginia, and quite a few of them are votin' for Obama.

The Knee-Jerk Express

So, it's been nearly a month since John McCain's surprise announcement regarding his running mate.  Like a bolt out of the blue, Sarah Palin arrived on the scene:  underqualified, under-informed, and under-vetted.  The last item became pretty clear when the McCain campaign refused to admit that they knew nothing about Palin's pregnant daughter, or to release any information regarding the VP-vetting process in general.  ("Are you secretly gay? Do you have an affinity for airport bathrooms?  No?  Great, you're in.") And, now that Palin's dead-cat bounce is fading, and the Walmart moms are getting to the bottom of things with her -- and finding her a little lacking -- McCain brings out another whopper:  He's going to suspend his campaign, step into a phone booth, and re-emerge in Washington as the Superman of credit crises.  Yes, Mr. McCain is going to Washington to solve all our problems.  And Obama, he says, should be following in his footsteps. Oh, BTW, can we call off Friday's debate, while we're at it? 

Who took McWalnuts off his meds?  Are we really looking for a President who, in every pressure-filled situation, has this kind of a knee-jerk reaction?  I admit a certain level of admiration for his political advisors, who know how to stir the pot, but over the long haul, the outcomes are not good.  Every situation seems to be assessed in terms of short-term gains (meaning:  What will give me a leg up in the battleground states?), rather than longer-term positives (meaning: I really am putting my Country First™). 

Everyone I have polled in my admittedly-small and definitely Obama-leaning circle of cronies has had the same reaction to McCain's announcement:  He's afraid of the debate.   And whether or not this is true, we're all amazed that a man who last week announced that the economy is fine, and who has wrapped himself in a couple of financial debacles in the past, now deems himself necessary in a negotiating process that started, and has proceeded, without him. 

I watched Obama's town hall today, and he echoed what I've been feeling for over a year:  This crisis has been affecting the middle class for quite some time.  Inflationary pressure, declining home values, a deteriorating job market-- it's folks like my nephew, who couldn't even find a job at McDonald's when he came home from college for the summer -- who've been pummeled already.   All they're saying to Wall Street is this:  "Welcome to the party, y'all.  And BTW, we're not interested in funding your golden parachutes in return for all the trouble you've caused us." 

So much for our 30+ years of trickle-down economics (yes, we got a bit of a respite with Clinton, but Dubya trashed those achievements, didn't he?).   We've trickled ourselves right into a New New Deal.  We might as well put a guy with the political DNA to manage it into office.  FDR Version 2.0, if you will.  I don't think that's McCain.  He seems to put about 30 seconds of time into the planning process: rather than decision-making capability, he seems to have some kind of cartoonishly-large hero complex that causes him to leap before he looks.  Great for the headlines, murder on the bottom line. 

Thanks, but no thanks.  I'm voting for the guy who calls Paul Volcker for advice, not the one who calls Carly Fiorina, who got bounced out of her own job for knee-jerk reactions.  Birds of a feather ...  If you buy McCain's story today, I got a Bridge to Nowhere and some AIG stock to sell you. 

(Art adapted from a cartoon by Olle, with my apologies.  Here's a link to the original: politicalhumor.about.com/.../Superman-McCain.htm)

The Britney Spears Candidate

I almost hate to give Sarah Palin more press, since the furor seems to be dying down, but what-the-hell, my 20 blog readers aren't going to make that much difference, anyway.   So, here's the thing:  every educated woman I know between the ages of 25 and 60 is furious about McCain's choice.   Every single one of us has the same reaction when we look at Palin and her dog-racin' First Dude, her pregnant teenage daughter, the baby she keeps toting around like a sack of flour:  Trailer Trash. 

Now, given that I was raised in the South, I know a thing or two about Trailer Trash.  I also know that I, and my family, have worked hard to avoid that label.  To make sure the kids stayed in school, to keep the drag racing to a minimum, to avoid trotting out crazy aunts and differently-abled kids as a kind of circus sideshow.  Even though it almost killed my mother to do so, she talked to us about sex (and according to her teenage grandchildren, she still talks incessantly to them about sex -- and the importance of birth control).  My mother, God bless her soul, even got a midnight paper route to help keep me in my top-notch private university -- which I happily attended for four years straight, earning my degree before trotting off to another college for an MBA.   Despite a familiarity with, and perhaps an affinity for, humble things, Trailer Trash we were not.

But there's sexiness in being Trailer Trash these days, I suppose.  After all, Britney Spears has made a career of it.  But Cheetos, cut-offs and bare feet in gas station bathrooms are not the stuff of thoughtful folks.  And I can imagine Ms. Palin, for all her lipstick and her carefully-coiffed hair, wandering into the truck stop loo, moose gun and cigarette in hand.

I, for one, can't help noting the irony that McWalnuts, after lambasting Obama as an empty-headed celebrity by comparing him to Paris Hilton and Britney Spears, picked the political version of Britney Spears as his running mate.  Way to go, John.  You proved pretty definitively that publicity, not policy, drives the Straight Talk express.  Even Paris showed you up with a humorous -- and intelligent --riposte.  Who's the empty-headed celebrity now?

Bring out the moose-hunter huntin' gun, Obama.  Those of us who have abandoned the cutoffs, the Marlboro's and the First Dudes in favor of careers, families and lives of respectability are behind you 100%.  Even Britney's cleaning up her act.  Maybe we should give her an "Obama" sticker for her truck, and put her on the Dem ticket in a few years:  "Britney in 2012.  If you liked Palin, you'll LOVE her!"   

Defying Conventions

So, those of us who care about the Presidential election (hopefully that's most of us) were obviously shocked when John McCain announced his choice for Vice President. It took the shine off of Obama's hopeful and moving speech, delivered on the anniversary of MLK's legendary "I Have a Dream" oration.  McCain was either inspired or insane, and I spent a few days trying to make up my mind.  I dutifully watched Palin introduce herself -- complete with infant, pregnant teen and baby daddy -- on national television; I dutifully sat through Foghorn Leghorn and Droopy Dog, and I tried to convince myself that this all made sense. But all I could think about what this:  the Republican Convention looks like the America I came from, but it doesn't look like the America I live in now.

The Republican audience was suspiciously bereft of color.  Most of the women were blonde.  (I'm blonde, at the moment, but now I'm thinking that Palin's rocking the brunette with glasses thing, which was my look!  Maybe I should go back, and run for national office.)  There was the occasional black or brown face, lovingly caressed by television cameras looking for anything -- anything -- to break the monotony.

Contrast that with the color of the Democratic Convention, which virtually shone like a rainbow.  And the color of my neighborhood, which happens to be old, well-established and affluent.  Diversity is not the bailiwick of the poor in Ell-Lay!  We border Koreatown, where we often shop bakeries for yummy French-Korean goodies and occasionally hit a galbi restaurant.    Being of that age, my daughter just attended her current best friend's Bat Mitzvah.  The girls arranged in the front rows came from all ethnic backgrounds - Black, Asian, Middle Eastern, Latino.   Another close friend, adopted from China, will celebrate her own Bat Mitzvah next year.  And they're just a sampling from one mid-size all-girls Catholic school in the city. 

When we order out for dinner, we are just as likely to choose an Indian restaurant (there are several nearby) as we are to choose sushi, Thai or Italian.  While my daughter was on a vegetarian kick, we used to lunch at the local vegan joint.  I've been lucky enough to have a series of well-educated, gracious au pairs help me raise my child (none of them sporting infants or baby-daddies).  The languages spoken in our household have included German, Italian, Czech, French and Spanish.  The streets in my neighborhood are quieter on Saturdays, because when you're an Orthodox Jew, you leave your car in the driveway and walk.   

No, I don't pretend for a moment that we are typical, at least not generally.  But when I was watching the Democratic Convention on television, I didn't feel atypical -- I felt grateful.  (And I'm not even a Democrat.)  Grateful that, for once, I could find my own tribe in the crowd, that despite the fact that I'm blonde (sort of) and white, I don't have to believe in a world where everyone looks, thinks and talks like me. 

Where does the current Republican worldview come from?  Is it fear?  I don't find the emphasis on stopping the tide of progress--creationism, abridging medical research, ignoring global warming--to be congruent with our country's reputation for ingenuity, determination and leadership.  It is totally at odds with those "Country First" placards they kept waving around, fanning their blonde headpieces.  It makes us look backwards, and stupid.   

Nor do I understand why they would reject the waves of diversity that have always powered these United States.   My family actually showed up here around 1653 (and proceeded to steal a lot of land from the previous inhabitants, BTW). If anything, I should be shooing out the blonde helmet-heads, asking them what they're doing here.  As a matter of fact, I might just do that, and replace them with far more interesting folks, who are willing to work hard at crappy jobs, pay taxes, and are not worried whether my lover shares my gender and what god or God I worship. 

I know the conventions are designed to be love-fests, to showcase a candidate's pandering to the party base, and I clearly saw that in St. Paul.   Pandering to the point of delusion.  Stand up, you Americans, and demand the truth.  Don't sit their with your little blonde hairdon'ts and smile when you hear the lies.  You're better than that.  We're better than that.  Go back out on the street, and take a look at what your country really looks like.  It might break your heart, but there's nothing to fear.  Brown and black folks have infants, pregnant teenagers and baby-daddies, too.  It doesn't make them qualified to be Vice President, but it does make them qualified to be your neighbors, friends and fellow countrymen.  Quit shutting the doors on them:  you might just discover a little extra happiness, and some peace, in your own Christian-God-creationism-believing-immigration-reforming souls. 

How can McCain compete?

Yeah, I was a Hilary supporter, but now I'm definitely voting for this guy. 

Thanks, Wonkette.