I Have To Make A New Sign

AOC and Bernie and Cory Booker and Gretchen Whitmer have all been in Tucson lately.  Mayor Pete is on Substack, sporting facial hair.

He does look older and more electable, doesn't he?

In another sign of the impending apocalypse, Stephen A Smith, the world's loudest and second most annoying sports commentator, said that people are asking him when he's gong to announce his run for President.

"I have no choice, because I’ve had elected officials — and I'm not going to give their names — coming up to me. I’ve had folks who are pundits come up to me. I've had folks that got a lot of money, billionaires and others, that have talked to me about exploratory committees and things of that nature. I’m not a politician. I’ve never had a desire to be a politician," Smith said, noting his contract with ESPN.

The season has started because, y'know, there are only 185 more weeks until the election and no one wants to be left behind.

No viable candidate has raised their head to replace my Congressman.  That's a race I could work on, if only there were a race to work on.  

Instead, this Saturday I'll stand outside the Social Security Office instead of the Tesla dealership, doing what I can to stop the madness. The anti-Musk protest has apparently done all the damage the organizer thinks is possible so we're moving to holler about protecting the safety net that keeps seniors off the streets.

He says we need new signs.

Any suggestions will be warmly welcomed.  I'm going to need all the brainpower we can muster for the next 1,295 days.  

Happy Earth Day

This is the 8th post I ever wrote, back in 2009.  

I've updated it just a little, but republish it here for the 16th time.  

I like Earth Day. I was there at the start, after all.

Created in large part by U.S. Senator Gaylord Nelson, in the world of 1970 it was a touchy-feely alternative to the harsher realities of the anti-Vietnam War protests. War was such an uncomfortable subject and arguing against it made your parents wonder why they were spending tuition dollars while you were telling the lawfully elected President of the United States of America that you knew more than he did. With your picture in the crowd on the front page of the NY Times, at 18 years of age, no less. 

But planting trees? Recycling newspaper? Not littering? All this in service to Mother Earth. Who could be aggravated about supporting Mother Earth?

Earth Day had teach-in's. They were more fun than sit-in's, which invariably involved police and disciplinary action. They were less fun than be-in's, which owed more to Timothy Leary and The Grateful Dead than to anything political or practical. Teach-in's were earnest and had hand-outs and statistics and pictures of desolate landscapes ravaged by the cruelty of man. There was science and legislation and outrage and lots of free tree give-aways.

Earth Day had no mandatory family gatherings. It required no gift giving, no card sending. You went outside and did something - cleaned a playground, weeded a median strip, planted one of those free trees. You felt good because you were doing good.

And Mother Earth was grateful.

*****

This paragraph is part of the original post:

Now there is Earth Week. Were this still 1970, there would be protests about the idea  being co-opted by the man. Instead, Sheryl Crow is designing re-useable grocery bags for Whole Foods and Wal-Mart is selling others next to the discounted paper towels.

Earth Week?  We can't even agree on climate change.  We are still protesting a venal administration, but most of us are recycling, or feeling guilty if we're not.  I always have a pretty reusable bag or three in the trunk because there's too much packaging in the world.  

Why that statement made my children cringe and shush me remains a mystery to this day.  

Here's wishing you a sunny and productive Earth Day.  If nothing else, buy yourself some flowers and send thankful vibes to the grower.

Oops

I published my notes for tomorrow's post instead of the post I'd written for today.  Sorry, all 30 of you who read the notes.... the real post is below. 

Saving Democracy While Living My Life

The thought of spending any mental energy on the impending Constitutional crisis, on the Supreme Court of Georgia's mere existence, on the revocation of visas and the vague chilling effect all of this is having on what I write.... well, denizens, it's just too much.

I started out on Friday, wearing a school t-shirt,  at Prince Elementary's Volunteer Appreciation Ceremony.  We were treated to a not quite ready for prime time but totally adorable rehearsal of all four kindergarten classes' Promotion to First Grade on the stage, one table away.

Look at these patient five and six year olds waiting for the grown ups to fix the sound system.

The lovely woman who coordinates the monthly Food Bank was as delighted as I was when the first little one called out my first but not last personal greeting.  There was an occasional wave and there were many smiles until the music started.  The singing and dancing was enthusiastic; they earned a standing ovation.  

I changed into my Good Trouble t-shirt and went on to the bi-weekly, LD18 Democrat organized, street protest in front of Rep. Juan Ciscomani's Tucson office.

I went upstairs, said hello to the lovely young people behind my Representative's security alarmed entrance, and left a note wishing he'd make a public statement about the Administration's plan to deport US citizens. 

I waved my sign

for a while, raising a thumbs up to the honking horns with the other pissed off citizens, then I turned my sign to the side I drive around with,

changed into my Every Body is Beautiful pilates shirt, and sweated for an hour before returning to school and gardening with the kiddos.

I spent Saturday morning doing the same things, without the school pieces.  I'm in great shape which is a good thing since holding a sign up,  no matter how light,  requires a certain amount of stamina. 

This was a lot easier 50 years ago. I cannot believe we have to do this again.  Saving democracy is hard work.  I hope there are some young people willing to pick up the mantle.  This is going to be a long fight. 

Happy Easter Weekend.

 I wrote this in 2015 and I am resurrecting it here.

It's everything I love about The Burrow - family, deep thoughts, and a smile

Happy Day Off From Work to those observing Good Friday (by choice or executive fiat).

Happy Easter to those who believe, to those who like getting dressed in frilly finery,

to those with great hats, and to those thinking deep thoughts.

*****

wikiart.org

At an early age, Big Cuter wanted to know why that guy has a towel and nails through his hands when we were confronted with Marc Chagall's White Crucifixion at the Art Institute of Chicago. His query highlighted the central problem I had with teaching the Cuters about Easter.  I was stuck between bunnies and lambs and a crucifixion. 

Nannie was eager to help, but she, too, was flummoxed.The bookstores didn't offer much.  Their descriptions of the Last Supper and The Passion and The Resurrection were either glossed over or overly grotesque for a sensitive, half-Christian, half-Jewish, little boy.  

We decided to stick with the bunnies and rebirth.  It was spring, after all.

Passover presented some of the same issues.  Why did God want to kill little boys, my own son wondered. Walk softly and carry a big stick came to mind as an answer, but it wouldn't do much to assuage his worry.  He was, after all, a first born son.  We wondered about a merciful God, about a righteous God, about a jealous God before the soup was served.  

I didn't worry about those issues when I was a child.  I thought it was weird that someone could die and be reborn, but if my Catholic girlfriend thought it was true, then who was I to argue?  Weird worked through elementary school.  

By the time I was in high school, I was doubting the whole religion thing in general, and was able to ascribe my problems with the stories to a problem with mythology in general.  I didn't give the Bible more credence than Edith Hamilton's Mythology.

Now there's FlapJilly and I'm faced with the same dilemma.  I asked her other grandmother, a Christian of many perspectives, if she had any ideas, but, sadly, MOTG was as lost last year as were Nannie and I, decades ago.

Once again, there were those bunnies.

Is that what faith is all about?  Believing that which is awkward because God is somehow involved?  If I had faith, perhaps I would know the answer.  But, I don't.  

So I am left with eating unleavened bread as I contemplate the Resurrection.  I wonder if the disciple to Jesus's right in The Last Supper really was Mary Magdalene.  I posit interesting tides and the parting of the Red Sea.  I dip my pinky in a wine glass and recount the ten plagues visited upon Egypt, and then I wash them off the plate and eat dinner.

It's not exactly what Sunday School or Hebrew School hoped for, but it's all I've got at the moment.

I'll celebrate by planting more pink and white  blossoms in my containers.  I'll watch the leaves appear from the bulbs planted years ago, and I'll concentrate on rebirth and miracles.  

And I'll try not to be angry at the bunnies eating the petunias.  It's their holiday, after all.

To My University

I learned to rely upon my brain and my heart.  I learned to be passionate about what was right and to fight to make it so with all the tools at my disposal.  I learned that there is strength in numbers and that showing up is the least one can do.  

I read the classics.  I read modern histories.  I learned about the inevitable ebb and flow of dominion over land and people.  I thought about right and wrong as we closed classes two springs in a row to protest the President's warmongering.

We were rude and unruly.  We occupied buildings and marched through campus.  

No one was deported.  No one held back funds until our ship was righted to their satisfaction.

The world went on, swinging back and forth from civil liberties to far-fetched fantasies, finding an occasional moment of peace and ease.  The University survived.

Now, faced with a crisis reminiscent of the McCarthy era, the University has a choice: acquiesce to a bully or stand your ground.  

Yes, it's a lot of money.  Yes, it's a research catastrophe.  

It's also an opportunity to show that you stand behind what Ezra Cornell said at its founding:

I trust we have laid the foundation of [a] university … where any person can find instruction in any study.

 

Another Take On Seders

 I had so much fun rereading my previous Passover posts.  I hope I'm not overdoing it.

*****

Brother is an excellent writer.  He kept me amused all through college with his semi-monthly JA NEWS.  All sides and corners of the pages were covered with amusements and philosophy, as were the envelopes.  He has his own particular take on the world.  Here's a glimpse.

Our Wacky and Wild Seders

We have two dozen haggadot that are all the same.

Sometimes we start reading around the table, each person reading one sentence. You have to pay attention – “Where are we?” is not acceptable with this crowd. Then we switch to each person reading one word. It goes slowly at first, then picks up speed until somebody says “REVERSE” and we go the other direction. It usually ends in laughter when two people next to each other keep saying “REVERSE!”

We also have a collection of different haggadot, from fancy collectible printings to crumbling ancient Maxwell House booklets. When we use these haggadot, everyone at the table gets a different version. 

We sometimes try the one sentence at a time thing with the various translations. You have to listen while reading ahead and thinking about your next line. This usually winds up in a discussion like, “That doesn't make sense” or “You missed this part” or “Mine translates that as (whatever).” 

We always compare artwork in the different versions. Some is astonishingly good, some is astonishingly bad, and some is just astonishing

But the company and the food are always good.

Taxes

Funding this government makes me queasy.

The House passed no meaningful legislation last session.  They are on track to pass only hateful, vengeful bills this year.  The Senate, hopelessly mired in posturing, isn't much better.  Arizona's legislature is at odds with the Governor, so nothing gets done.... except by the State Superintendent of Schools who is going out of his way to promote charter schools.

The Secretary of Education was interviewed and spent several minutes talking about the importance of A One.  A One should be in every grade, even kindergarten and first grade can benefit from A One and we will be a leader with A One.  TBG and I were totally flummoxed; why was she promoting steak sauce?  

The host was happy to explain that she was referring to Artificial Intelligence..... AI. 

Y'know those people who use I instead of me incorrectly because they think it makes them sound smarter than they really are?  I will put up with a lot but please do not mess with grammar, the English language, reading simple phrases.  Just don't.

A local water project, part way through development, is stymied, its infrastructure refurbishing funds frozen by an unelected ketamine addict.  United Airlines wants me to be certain that my name on my official photo id is exactly the same as the name I use on their website because TSA is really concerned about that now.  There's a humanitarian disaster in Myanmar and an American presences is noticeably absent.  

Canadians want nothing to do with us.  Mexico's president is having some success, treating him as a recalcitrant child whose temper tantrums must be managed, but who can be calmed by a using big words and a sweet treat.  The EU is getting credit for UNICEF aid packages and, once again, the USA is absent.

No one is answering the phones at the IRS or Social Security.  Kids and parents are afraid to leave their homes; Homan's goons may be hovering.

Where is my money going?  

Can I designate it all to supporting Ukraine?

We filed, but we didn't feel good about it at all.

Happy Passover

First published April 12, 2017

 Families gathered around a table.

The fancy china unwrapped and the silver polished.

On the table, someone's hand embroidered ("NO! Don't use that to blot up the wine!) tablecloth and napkins.

Well-worn Haggadah in hand, the patriarch stands and recites and sings and calls on others to participate.

Hard boiled eggs and salad greens staunch the appetites, then apples-and-nuts-and-Manischewitz-Concord Grape wine ("More, please!) tickle the palate.

Matzoh ball soup and gefilte fish and then all the main courses anyone could imagine and then more singing and more praying and gradually the kids disappear until Daddy is looking for the Afikomen.

What could go wrong?  My all time favorite family photograph says it best:

I hope that your seders (should you be lucky enough to participate in one or two) are filled with joy and laughter and the kind of love that sends a favorite grandchild over the edge.

And Just Like That

Summer arrived today.  

I stood outside on Saturday, without a hat, for more than two hours, holding a sign, and I was never too hot.  I was wearing two layers on top.  I was glad I wore a sweater over a cotton blouse on Sunday.

Today, I barely lasted an hour outside in Grandma's Garden.  From now on, I do my outside stuff before 9 am.

The humans aren't the only ones altering their patterns.  Those look like javelina tracks along the front of our property.  They haven't done that there since the last time it was hot.

My bearded iris are loving the heat,

and the store bought petunia starts are equally delighted.  

Mostly, it's the yellow season that announces the arrival of warmer temperatures.  This tree was bare and green a week ago.  Now it's providing yellow pollen to annoy the entire neighborhood.

It hasn't rained in a while, but, surprisingly, the ocotillo are blooming.

This is an ocotillo flower up close.

The succulent that volunteered several years ago has given birth to many pups (see the babies around her base?) and this year, for the first time, she's showing her floral stuff.

The wildflowers are starting to get into the act, too.

It's time to move the flannel shirts into the totes and take out the rest of the tank tops.  Just like that, summer has arrived.