A lengthy mish-mash

No time to think, not a second. 
A pulsing migraine, my unwelcome guest for five days now.
My littlest one at my side always; beloved and welcome, but also I yearn
for space and quiet and no more talk of farts or Pokemon.

corn, favas, summer squash, tomatoes, goat cheese and pear-balsamic

I'm tired, worn, behind. I'm angry and hurting about Charleston.
I'm shrugging under the weight of the horrible Groundhog Day'ness of it.
Heavy in the sadness that still nothing will be done. And this will happen again.
Shocked and grossed out and dismayed by the ignorance out there.
Such determined, righteous ignorance.
Underscored completely by the fact that while other flags were lowered to half-mast,
the Confederate beast flew high. Higher than them all.
With every gust of the wind, a slap
in the face to those who lost loved ones, long ago and on Wednesday.
An ugly reminder of the second-class way they are seen and treated.

Father's Day should be celebrated later in the year, I think to myself.
Every year. At least until the kids are older and need a bit less from Mom.
In June, they are only just out of school and we are working to recalibrate
in the midst of changing schedules and more time at home.

Daddy and me, a month in

What is steady in all this mayhem are meals. Three squares a day.
Making them count, simply to magnificently, tethers the morning, middle and evening.
They are nourishing anchors of love and pause. They are moments to stop.
Chew slowly, I think. With your mouths closed, please. Savor.

Last night, after a demoralizing online debate with a classmate (about racism -better than it was!-and guns -"we don't have a problem!"), I could only think to cook. 
My head pounded in my temples, a throbbing drumbeat I could not escape.
A shrimp boil is surely the answer.  
Other than having grown up in Louisiana, I cannot explain the utter randomness of that,
but out we went for three pounds.
Then boil it, I did. 

I called Tom home from work early. The four of us sat and peeled and dipped.
Jack continues to assert that he doesn't like shrimp, but he's a hell of a peeler,
and even enjoys it, so I'm happy to have him on my team.
More for me, I think. Thank you, baby.

I wonder if these perfect Gulf treats bring me back to a more naive time.
A simpler one when I was young and not as outraged by injustice,
when it seemed we, there, all just got along.
I question the veracity of my memories now. I hope, but I don't know. 
In each bite of shrimp, dunked deeply into excessively horseradishy cocktail sauce,
spiked generously with lemon and Tony Chachere's,
I wish I had Saltines in the house, and I wish for less hate and less violence and less division.

The vet came yesterday. Percy was due for a rabies shot, and, as he just turned ten, a senior physical. Percy is always fairly low on my list of priorities, but as he received two shots and also had some blood drawn, his nails clipped and his body prodded; as I found out he's basically blind in his left eye because of an advanced cataract, and minimally so in the right because of a growing one, I was overcome by love and admiration for this sweet little being who just soldiers though each day, nice as get out to anyone who's nice to him.

He doesn't complain much, and he takes discomfort with a laudable acceptance. He is patient and kind, tolerant and pretty flexible really. Don't get me wrong, those "Who rescued who?" bumper stickers still launch me into the orbit of insanity, but I do sometimes find myself in utter appreciation of animals and the way they just get on with it. I see in them some qualities we people could stand to emulate.

I think of my Nanny, and as my heart hurts so much right now, I keep thinking of her and her grace. Her steadiness. Her tolerance and her willingness to grow and change rather than remain static and become entrenched. It gives me hope.

When Barack Obama was elected President, Nanny initially found it hard to envision a black First Lady. She was born in 1921 in Louisiana and was of that age. She grew up pretty poor and didn't go to college, but was guided by her heart, an expansive, accepting, powerhouse that was always willing to evolve. 

She soon came to love and admire Michelle Obama, as she had loved and advocated for the gay men in our family and the less fortunate in our community. As she had always stood up for me and accepted me for just who I was. 

Nanny taught me a great deal during the many years we had together, about what is and isn't important, about what does and doesn't matter at the end, about how important it is to stand up for what is right and just. Even if you do it in your own, quiet way. Like she did.

I don't want to be as quiet, for that's not really me, constitutionally or otherwise. But I gain strength from Percy's stoic acceptance and Nanny's singular decency, from the Charleston survivor's forgiveness and all of those who are standing up, right now, in their own ways.

And so, as the thunder rolls through, and the rain washes down baptismally, and the fireflies light with determined goodwill, I think about what I hope people someday say about me: that I loved and tended to others, that I stood for things as fearlessly as I could, that I lived an authentic life full of shrimp boils and puzzles, heartache and tolerance. That, in the best ways I knew how, I mothered and daughtered; friended and wived; fed and accepted. With grace and strength and a loud voice when needed.
~~~
Please consider watching and reading the following (though if you've read this far, A) thank you and B) I certainly understand if you're whooped.)

Jon Stewart on Charleston
Jim Jefferies on Gun Control in the U.S.
This New Yorker piece on Charleston  
This post on what white people can do: 

White people keep asking "what can I do to help you in times like this? What can I do to fight racism? Where can I start? I want to take action." 
Here's what you can do - collect the white racists in your life. Tell your dad he has to stop making racist jokes. Stop your roommate when he rants against black people in the city. Correct your girlfriends when they talk about bad neighborhoods. Educate your students when they bring in writing that features stereotypical or offensive black characters. 
Stop leaving the hard work of educating white people to the people who are suffering and grieving. Stop leaving it to black people to collect and educate. Don't speak for us but if you abhor racism, get rid of it around you. 
The shooter in Charleston was able to do what he did because no one corrected him or stopped him when he ranted and raged against black people. 
Yes, it's gonna be hard to correct your dad or grandpa but if you want to count yourself as an ally, do this god damn work so I don't have to.

#charleston

Early this morning, I posted this message to my Facebook page: 

If anyone continues to feel that we need more relaxed gun laws in this country, I say to you that you are crazy. Slaughter and murder are happening all around. Let's get our collective head out of our collective, fraidy-cat ass, and make some change. Holding ‪#‎charleston‬ in the light.

Twelve hours later, I concur.

I just don't know what it's going to take for our country to move on the issue of gun regulation, nor do I understand why we appear to be marching backwards in time towards an ugly past. Racism and guns are a combustible mix. They aren't causal but the connections are clearly there.

Black Americans are "killed at twelve times the rate of people in other developed countries." (Nate Silver, FiveThirtyEight, 18 June 2015) If you want to see how we compare, read this piece from FiveThirtyEight that was published today. A sad comparison within is this: the homicide rate per 100,00 people for black Americans is 19.4; for white Americans it's 2.5.

I am so angry and demoralized about the lack of government leadership on gun control. Columbine happened in 1999. Since, there have been more than 40 more school shootings, including that at Sandy Hook which killed more than 25 and seemed so horrific that I thought change might actually come.

In the meantime, there was the Aurora, CO, theater massacre, the Fort Hood disaster, Oakland, Santa Monica, as well as all the many individuals shot dead. 

Last year alone, there were "283 separate incidents in which four or more people were shot." (Gary Younge, The Guardian, 18 June 2015)

Gun-regulation rhetoric grows louder but nothing happens. Citizens and government leaders who have no real idea what the Second Amendment was written to protect scream like feral beasts about their rights to bear arms. Instead of restricting where those arms can be brought, we expand their reach by allowing them in bars, churches, airports and college campuses. We enact bullshit legislation like Stand Your Ground and we elect racist assholes like Sheriff Joe Arpaio. 

All of this serves as a hideous veil behind which killers hide and then get away. They are police officers who murder unarmed citizens and are then acquitted. They are bigoted punks who promote themselves to neighborhood guardians and shoot and/or report suspicious -read: "of color"- others in their midst. Some are mentally ill, but not all; some are just hateful and mean. They are racist and ignorant. They shouldn't have guns in the first place.

More guns does not a civilized society make.

We watch again and again and again as the tears of mothers, fathers, children and friends are prayed for and then forgotten. We wring our hands in sympathy and outrage but when the dirt covers the coffins, our attention shifts. 

This is shameful. It is not leadership, and it is not compassion. It is immoral and cowardly and weak, and all who do not vociferously insist on change are culpable in the continuation of such unnecessary tragedy and inexcusable disregard. 

If we cannot simply say "NO MORE" after children are slaughtered and families are ripped apart and welcoming church congregations are shot up during a prayer group, then we are a pitifully impotent country. 

Not a day after Dylann Roof murdered nine black people (including three older than 70) at the Emanual A.M.E. church in Charleston, right wing pundits ignored the racial dimension and asserted that his rampage was an attack on faith. They asked whether pastors should be armed. And the Confederate flag at the South Carolina capitol building continued to fly high. 

I don't understand how these images don't haunt change into our leaders. I am outraged and heartbroken and ashamed. 

courtesy of the NY Daily News

An honest take on current events

What is happening in this country? Why are we allowing ourselves to devolve into craven, feckless idiots with no eyes turned toward the future? 

1. Look at Baltimore, and the tragic, though in my opinion the rage is totally understandable, reaction to yet another killing by the police.

Freddie Gray, a young, asthmatic black man chased by the police for as yet unknown reasons, is said to have been having trouble breathing when first pinned down. He also had a leg injury or sustained one during the pursuit. Yet he was put in leg irons, placed in a police van, not buckled into his seat, and by the time he arrived at the station, he had a severe spinal cord injury, a crushed voice box and was unable to talk, walk or breathe. No, it does not appear that any one police officer used excessive force, but the police van in which Gray rode was driven by officers familiar with the "rough ride" concept, a way of driving that results in passenger injury. 

The Baltimore police department has acknowledged that Gray was not given medical attention in a timely manner "multiple times" during the course of his time with them. It is clear that Gray died from the spinal injury he suffered while in the van. So, do the math. Either he was beaten or driven to death and the police are culpable. 

We just watched, literally, Walter Scott be gunned down. He was unarmed and running away.
We've buried Tamir Rice, a twelve-year-old, shot to death in a park while playing with a toy gun.
We've buried Eric Garner, the Staten Island man choked to death for selling cigarettes on a street corner.
We've had to watch as a 73-year-old insurance executive moonlighting as a reserve deputy shoots a man, Eric Harris, to death when he mistakes his gun for his Taser. As Harris lay dying, the other cops cuffed him anyway; when Harris said "I'm losing my breath," a cop replied, "*(&(^ your breath."

This egregious, dismissive violence is almost too much to bear. Except bearing it as a stunned observer is easy when you consider the families and communities and senses of self and identity torn apart by these killings. Imagine what they are going through. How they must feel.

Not all those killed were law-abiding citizens, but none deserved to be murdered at the hands of rabid, ill-trained gun-slingers.

We have got to deal with racism, police misconduct and utterly wrong-headed gun laws.

2. Look at Kansas, as it pushes ever backwards in time and civilization. Women's rights to decide what THEY do with and within their OWN bodies are being taken from them at an increasingly vociferous rate and using a disgusting, dramatic marketing campaign. Stupid Brownback, already a titan of failed tax policy, has renamed Dilation & Curettage, dismemberment abortion. And, because he's so keen on celebrating his ban against it, he's taken to a publicity tour of Kansas, reenacting the bill's signing in three different high schools with giant posters of fetuses behind him. Terrifically appropriate, yes?

I happen to be pro-choice, and though I wish everyone were, I'm certainly not into taking away your right to not be. That's what pisses me off about these stringent, ideological bills; they take away the rights of many on behalf of the beliefs of not as many. 
*See also, terrible inaction on behalf of climate change because of lobbyists and their ilk.

3. Let me also issue a brief statement against the recent spate of ultra-Orthodox Jewish men who believe they cannot sit next to a woman who is not their wife on airplanes; men who have refused to sit down unless the women are assigned new seats.
Men, this is YOUR issue, your very narrow and strictly-defined religious prohibition. YOU go find a new seat. 

We're not hearing each other, seeing each other, sitting next to each other for pete's sakes. We're running pell-mell into partisan, one-dimensional silos; we're moving further and further apart, away from science and fact and modernity, and the outcomes aren't looking good.

4. Nepal. I am just stunned by what a tragic disaster the earthquake and its many aftershocks continue to be. Send prayers and vibes and money, whatever you can.