A Short Story

Nina's comment on yesterday's post reminded me of a story.  

She wrote that her parents consumed  30 minutes of national news, filtered through the professionalism of Walter Cronkite.  I replied that I grew up with that kind of news, too. Just as there were Chevy families and Ford families, there were ABC and CBS and NBC followers, but everyone knew that Cronkite was the voice of the evening news.

It was a big deal to read an out of town newspaper, but Daddooooo read the NYTimes on the train into the city, Newsday was delivered to our house in the late afternoon, and Uncle Abby (who lived next door) brought home the Post.  

Nobody read the Daily News.

Newsweek and Time gave us depth and a chance to respond.  I once had a letter published in Newsweek.

Timing was everything.  I took the magazine out of the mailbox and read the movie review in the elevator going up to our apartment.  I finished reading it at the kitchen table and wrote a response on a postcard and dropped it into the mail slot for the afternoon pickup.  

So many differences from today - a magazine you could hold in your hand, a postcard readily available, two mail deliveries a day.  No one even imagining sitting at a computer and ranting at an e-zine via email or tweeting a criticism before the pixels were dry on the page.  

The movie was Superman.  I wrote I'll still see the movie, but it won't help that David Ansen told me the ending... or something like that.  

I was snarky then and I'm snarky now.  If I'm peeved, you'll know about it.  I've never had a letter published in the NYTimes, but that doesn't seem all that relevant these days.  The Arizona Daily Star seems to like what I write, and has published several of my letters in the last few months.  

But since 2009 I've had 4,153 opportunities to rant and rave to the general public.  Every time one of you reads a post, I feel like I've won the lottery.

Thanks for being here.

Absolutely Not

That was TBG's response to whether we should watch the Joint Session of Congress.

I was conflicted.  I always watch them, if only to take the pulse of the listeners.  Sometimes there's drama, and I don't mind seeing it in real time.  POTUS deserves to be heard..... or at least until FFOTUS.

On our walk this morning, I asked Taos Bubbe about her plans.  Absolutely not! came out of her mouth before I finished the question.  She'll catch snippets if they appear on her internet feed, but the thought of spending time with that man made her physically ill.

The notion of self-care by avoiding all things FFOTUS suddenly became front and center for me.  Bluesky and Substack are filled with outrage that is nigh on impossible to ignore.  1440  is unbiased but the links lead to others and suddenly I'm drowning in the slime.  

It drives TBG nuts.  This morning, as I regaled him with the latest outrage, he asked Why do you do this to yourself?  This afternoon, I really had no answer.

I had lunch with The 250K Cruise Club today. We were four ladies-who-lunch, on the patio of the Arizona Inn, loudly and passionately expressing our disgust for FFOTUS.  It is uncertain if we changed anyone's mind, but no one could doubt our feelings.

One of us will watch it, and if it makes me vomit at least I'll be alone and no one will notice.  One will watch until it becomes too painful, one will, like TBG, catch the news reports in the morning.  I couldn't articulate why I felt guilty about skipping it, but my friends helped me dissect it.

I'm an American.  This is an American thing.  Democracy depends on participation.  Those were the valid, civics lesson answers.  Missing a moment of chaos.... that one was harder to explain away.  Like watching a train wreck, in my mind it was hard to look away from that.  Then someone mentioned self-care and I began to nod my head.

I was playing mahjong while President Zelensky was abused in the Oval Office.  Dr. K was appalled, TBG was disgusted, and I am now no less embarrassed than they are despite only seeing the replay.  

6:30 rolled around and, to my surprise, TBG asked if we should give it a try.  It's the State of the Union... we should watch.  

We turned on PBS.  We turned off PBS about a minute later.  That smug, self-satisfied smirk had no place in our living room.  We cleansed our palates with a bit of My Favorite Year, tried once again and were rewarded with Rep. Al Green shaking his gold headed cane and yelling Mr. President, you don't have a mandate as he was escorted out of the chamber by the Sargent at Arms.

I got my drama. 

We went back to  the movie.

More Than Plants

It was cold and windy in Grandma's Garden today.  When the clouds were blocking the sun, the scholars in sleeveless shirts were clutching their arms around their bodies, seeking comfort.  My arms were only long enough to enfold three or four of them at a time.  A serious distraction was needed.

I found paint pouches in the storage bench.  There was no paper except for a brown bag from the grocery store.  There were no paint brushes.  There were lots of children clamoring for something to do.  I looked around the garden for a solution.

The bigger kids have been stripping the stump of its bark, leaving a smooth surface behind. 

We've been saving the bark in a big planter, with no particular plan for its use.  Today, I found one.

I gave the scholars large strips of bark and told them to consider them paper.  Small pieces of bark made useful brushes.  I dropped dollops of paint, one color at a time, onto the grocery bag 

and the kids got to work.

There were rocks to be painted or used as applicators.  There were grooves in the bark to fill and smoother surfaces to color. 

As the grades changed during recess, Garden Leaders took charge of adding paint and explaining the weirdness of it all.

Meanwhile, I harvested broccoli and shared it with three simple commands: Open wide; Close; Chew.  It's a measure of the trust they have in me that no one wondered aloud if it was safe to eat.  They opened and shut and chewed and generally agreed that broccoli is sweet and growing it ourselves makes it even tastier.

We dug up a carrot, which was too skinny to be called mature.  We washed it off anyway and three of us shared it.  Victoria's face scrunched up first, with Romero's and mine following closely behind.  We spit it out in unison, then whined about the bad taste in our mouths.  Broccoli bites didn't help the situation at all.

Not everyone was interested in painting, though.  These two sang a new-to-me clapping song as their hands made intricated patterns in the air.

There's always something to amuse the scholars who visit the garden, even if it has nothing to do with plants.

Random Thoughts

It's Oscar Night.  I saw Wicked in the theatre but only because I was visiting FlapJilly at the time.  Other than that, I'm clueless.

People I respect recommend A Complete Unknown, and TBG is taken with Timothee Chalamet after seeing him as the celebrity guest on College Game Day .  I've heard that there's an Ayn Rand architect and some very powerful performances by women I've never encountered.  

I may see the films, I'm skipping the awards show like I always do.  It's too cringey for me.

*****

Dr. K hosts our Friday mah jongg game, although the game itself frustrates him every week.

Dr. K came to paint the ornaments that make up Ben's Bells on my birthday.  He did one, then sat back and joined the conversation as the rest of us enjoyed ourselves much more than he did.

We've been friends since 1973.  You'd think I'd be able to figure out something he likes.

*****

Lots of people from the past have been visiting Tucson recently.  A sorority sister who was dismissive back then has not changed in 55 years, if those who've seen her recently can be believed.  I'm not going out of my way to schedule some time with her.

Instead I saw The Kibbitzer and The Doula before and after Indiana, and am in the midst of enjoying our Friends From LaMaze.  They've become annual visitors, warming my heart with their willingness to spend some of their vacation time with us.

*****

My only male first cousin tells his Florida snowbirds that they are, in fact, tourists.  

I love the tax revenues and the small shops' increased sales (because why schlep to Tucson to go to Macy's?).  I'm not crazy about scarce dinner reservations.  

What I really resent is their assumption that they are Tucsonans, when they flee at the first sign of triple digit temperatures.  

It's just not right.

*****

The pollen is high.  

People used to come here to escape the pollen.

This is truly the Anthropocene Era.

******

There it is.  

I managed to get through a whole post without crying about how embarrassing it is to be an American right now.

I'm pretty proud of myself for that.

February 27th

Elizabeth Taylor, Constantine the Great, Plato ( ??? ) and I were all born today.

In their honor, I posted today's post a minute ago and will spend today celebrating.

I'll be back on Monday.

Calling Congress

Has reading or watching the news over the past few days tended to put you in a good mood or bad mood?

3986 people responded to YouGov's poll today.  42% were grumpy, 20% were happy, and 38% didn't really care at all.

Our legislators won't be hearing from the 38%.  The 20% may express their joy through campaign contributions, but I can't remember the last time I dialed a politician's office to thank her.  

That leaves 42% of us to do the heavy lifting.  

It's impossible to avoid what's going on in Washington; there are headlines everywhere.  Can it be that Medicaid and Medicare are being eyed in this round of budget cuts?  I called my Congressman to find out.

Usually, my questions are met with I haven't spoken to her today but I will be sure that she gets your message.  Today, was different.  I was told that the Congressman had just told the White House that he and eight others are not necessarily going to go along with taking from those who can least afford it.  

The young man who answered the phone was delighted that I called.  He was happy to tell me that although the Congressman voted today to send the budget bill to Committee because without a budget the government would shut down, he and 8 other Republicans sent a letter to the White House expressing their hope that SNAP and WIC and Medicaid remain untouched.

He didn't argue when I said that perhaps shutting down the current White House's agenda wasn't necessarily a bad idea.  I ignored the fact that Medicare wasn't included and asked him to thank his boss for looking out for the hungry and the ill.  

He paused, just for a moment, then said how much he and the Congressman enjoyed, wanted, and most of all needed calls like these.  They are very useful when we present our case.  We can show that we are speaking for our constituents.

He went on in that vein until he began to lose steam. We said very cordial goodbyes and I promised to call him tomorrow about something else.  He's looking forward to hearing from me again.

The people who answer our elected officials' phones, who greet you when you walk in the door, are usually young and interested in governing.  They are on the constituent services, not the campaign, side.   Sometimes, especially now as we fight despair, it' s easy to  forget how idealistic patriotism can make you, especially when you have something as wonderful as American Democracy (used to be).

This young man was reminding me that democracy isn't easy, that it only works if we participate.  He was telling me that my call was useful, a necessary part of getting what I wanted.  He assured me that I was heard.

I felt connected to the process, and I liked it.  If you want to make your own call, click here.  

It's a simple way to fight despair. 

I'll Be Back Tomorrow

Air travel, even with a whole row to myself,  is hard on the body.  

Returning to altitude takes its toll.

I'm taking the day off.

A Special Perk

When it became obvious that United Airlines was the best way to get where I needed to go, I got a United credit card.  Boarding in Group 2, a free checked bag and overhead bin space even in the cheap seats - those are perks TBG and I have been using for years.

But I dug deeper a month ago and realized I had two passes to the United Club.  I also had a 3 hour lay-over at O'Hare coming and going from Little Cuter's last weekend.  I took it as a sign from the cosmos when the Club's entrance appeared directly across from my outbound gate.

It was wonderful.

Lovely ladies made me feel welcome as I entered.  They guided me through signing then there were comfy lounge chairs; and interesting foods with allergen information on the what is this card; and all manner of liquid refreshments on tap and in bottles or glass glasses; and all of it was on an endlessly replenished, immaculately maintained buffet.

Did I mention that I really really liked it?

Three hours is a long time to spend with all the people who go through O'Hare.  Three hours is a long time to sit in molded plastic chairs, no matter how ergonomically designed and placed they may be.  I make it work because I have to make it work.

But the free pass to wonderland showed me another side of commercial air travel.  And I like it.

The newer, smaller, quieter Club had space for my last free pass when the upscale sports bar vibe Club from my first visit was too full for my kind.  Here there were no monitors on the walls, the end tables a little bigger, a self service bar that included Prosecco, and a Coke machine.  There was another buffet filled with delicious and healthy foods.  There were mandarin oranges and red apples, oatmeal raisin and sugar dusted cookies, a charcuterie plate and flat bread, pita, dips .....  

I loaded up a plate or two, filled a glass with too much Prosecco, propped up my phone against my purse with nary a thought that anyone would bother them or my carry-on if I went to refill the cookie plate, and watched more of Stranger Things Season 3, listening through my hearing aids.

I really liked it.  

"We Saw Evil That Day"

The trial for the July 4th Highland Park shooter begins today.

The shooter refused to accept a guilty plea.  48 wounded survivors and the families of seven who were killed will begin to relive their nightmare again.

Time heals all wounds..... but not these wounds.  

We, in Tucson, avoided a trial by accepting a (multiple) life in prison sentence instead of pursuing the death penalty.  If I couldn't do it myself, it seemed too easy to let the state take care of it.  Life in an 8x10 box forever feels worse to me, anyway.

But my friends who were there are now beginning to reopen the wounds.  They will be called upon to testify about what they saw and felt that day.  Just knowing that they will have to face the shooter, who was staring them down in preliminary hearings, must be terrifying or horrifying or some other ing.  

I'm so glad we didn't have to go through that.

We were able to make victims' statements, and that let me vent my spleen - at the shooter, his parents, his school, and the law.  It was gratifying.  

It gave me no closure.  Nothing ever will.  It's an open wound that lives in a box buried in the corner of my psyche.  

Unlike my Highland Park friends, I can open and shut it on my own, without the judicial system forcing me to break the lock.  I'm spending some time right now holding my screaming head together,  

Send some love their way.

Should I Stay or Should I Go Now?

The sun is out.  The snow has stopped.  FlapJilly says that 21 degrees is really warm,  Gramma.

I should probably take a walk.  The streets are filled with beaten down snow.  There's no wind to speak of. 

The sunshine makes everything sparkle. 

But I am used to warmer climes.  The fireplace is beckoning. I'm tempted by Season 2 of Stranger Things now that I've mastered their television. 

And I could slip and fall... it is snow and ice after all.  

I think that's the reason and the answer.  I'm going back to see if Mike finds Eleven.  Exercise can wait.