You know? Some of us are just a little different from the norm – half a bubble off plumb, you might say. But whatever we are, I really believe we should strive to be the best version of that. Take this kid for instance – he plays the accordion. The accordion. Oom pah pah and all that. Can you imagine the jokes and teasing this young man has had to put up with?! And yet, he’s taken his half bubble off plumb and done this with it. So should we all!
Category Archives: Social Issues
Observations From the Waiting Room
I did no cardio yesterday. Yesterday was just an endurance test in existing.
I left work at midnight Thursday morning and left town at 0200 to drive to Memphis to meet my father and sister at the hospital where my father was to undergo excision of a malignant melanoma. We did the day surgery admissions song and dance from about 0715 to around 1000 when they finally took him back to surgery. My sister Chele and I were both starving so we hit the cafeteria before moving to the waiting room where a caught a few Zzzzzs. The surgery went fine and he was sprung at around 1730. Stopping for dinner and gasoline put me home at somewhere around 2240 – one tired human. Sleep, however, eluded me until after 0100. I was awake again at 0330. Oh, for pity’s sake!
Fit cardio in there? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Didn’t happen and, frankly, it’s probably not going to happen today, either.
I tell you all of that to set the stage for these observations:
- (This one might tick some of you off) Obese doctors and nurses carry about the same amount of authority with me as a nun does as a sex education teacher.
- Hospital vending machines should offer healthier choices.
- Hospital CAFETERIAS should offer healthier choices!
- Waiting room chairs are not designed to sleep in.
- As a society we need to regain respect for each other in shared areas, i.e. no loud conversations (either in person or on phones), nail clipping or, um, organ adjustments in public spaces.
- For the little amount of quality content available, we have too many ways to see it with televisions every. where.
- It’s okay to not have background music or television noise all the time.
- Fatigue makes you REALLY hungry for any calorie dense thing in the world.
- Apples do really perk you up when you’re tired.
- If you drink a cup of caffeinated coffee after 11 months of abstinence from caffeinated beverages, it will keep you awake to finish your drive home. And then some.
- And, finally, this math equation:
(1)sister + (1)live trap + (1)feral kitty colony = (1)adorable kitten for me to socialize, foster and rehome.
Dad’s surgery went well. We’ll get the node biopsies back in about 10 days. Positive thoughts and prayers on his behalf are appreciated. As I’ve told you many times, I adore that man. We all do.
And, hey! Anybody want a kitten?
All I Know How to Be
I am a straight, white woman. I was born that way. With the possible exception of a period of time when I was a toddler and told everyone my name was George (I have no idea), I’ve always been that way and I assume that I always will be. That’s good because at this stage of the game, I just don’t know if I could handle being a gay, black man. (Although Ru Paul does have a stunning wardrobe and I could use the make-up tips.)
The news this week has been filled with people that I’m not – Bruce Jenner, rioters, gay couples petitioning the US Supreme Court for the right to marry, a fan whose team is in the second round of the Stanley Cup playoffs. Since I don’t have television, I don’t know what the news has been saying about all of these things, but I know what a lot of the print media has had to say. More than that, I know what the people on my Facebook feed have had to say and it’s been, let’s say, illuminating. The commentary has reminded me a great deal of an incident with my friends Diane and Sandy. We’ll come back to that.
I am a woman born in a woman’s body. I have no clue what it feels like to be anything else. As a result, I really don’t understand it. I’m neither Chaz Bono nor Bruce Jenner. I do, however, know several people in various stages of transition from one gender to another. Some of them will already pass as the other gender and are going to have an easier time of it than the others. Bruce Jenner has such fine bone structure that his transition will be much easier than, say, Fred Gwynne’s would have been. Still, even the ones who have an “easier” time of it won’t have an easy time by any stretch of the imagination. Rejection by friends and family, social scorn, painful treatments – why would anyone choose to undergo such trials if their bodies were not already prisons that were far worse? I can’t imagine why they would. With the difficulties transgenders face, I’m glad I’m just a straight, white woman.
I’m also glad I’m just a straight, white woman on those rare occasions when I get pulled over. I’m not seen as a threat. I doubt very seriously that any officer looks in my Mary Poppins window and thinks I’m about to pull a gun on him, which is good for both of us really. However, I have a son. When he started to drive, I told him that when he got pulled over, he was to sit with his hands on the steering wheel until the officer got to him. If he could turn on his interior light, great. But, if not, just sit where the officer could see his hands and know that there was no weapon. I worried about my child being perceived as a threat….and he makes Casper look tan! My friends Carlos (one a Hispanic man and the other a dark complected black man) are both immediately perceived as higher threats than either me or my son, simply because of their skin color. Both are well-educated, law-abiding men; however, both are seen as threats and, as a result, officers of the law are a greater threat for them than they are for either me or my son. While I can acknowledge this from the outside, I can’t really understand it. I thought I could for many years, then I had lunch with Diane and Sandy.
We all worked together at the airport in Jackson, MS. Diane and I worked at American Eagle, Sandy worked in food service. Diane and I are both about as white bread as you can get. Sandy was, as she said, ghetto fabulous. She liked elaborate hairstyles, tight clothes, big jewelry and her one gold tooth. She was funny, smart, as good as gold and thought my baby was gorgeous (of course, I loved that!). Anyway, one beautiful spring day, we all went to lunch at a local Greek restaurant where we had terrible service. I mean terrible. We got our own napkins and refills. It was really bad. Diane and I didn’t think anything about it, really, other than that the service was terrible. Sandy saw it differently.
She saw tables of white patrons being waited on. She saw a table of black men being waited on. But, she saw no tables like ours. And we weren’t being waited on. She thought it was her fault because she looked different from other diners in the place.
When she apologized, I was horrified. It would never have even entered my mind that I would get subpar service based on my skin color. But it entered hers and I hurt for her. I would never have suggested that restaurant had I thought for a second that it would result in the humiliation I saw in my friend. I am assured by many that our experience was really just a case of bad service without any racial or socio-economic genesis. That may be. But, it’s been 20 years since that lunch. I haven’t been back to the restaurant and I don’t have any plans to change that.
Reading the news and my newsfeed, I know more than ever that I am a straight, white woman. It’s all I know how to be; but, it’s not all I can be or even have to be. I have to be a compassionate, straight, white woman.
Thanksgiving Proclamation 1789
[New York, 3 October 1789]
By the President of the United States of America, a Proclamation.
Whereas it is the duty of all Nations to acknowledge the providence of Almighty God, to obey his will, to be grateful for his benefits, and humbly to implore his protection and favor– and whereas both Houses of Congress have by their joint Committee requested me to recommend to the People of the United States a day of public thanksgiving and prayer to be observed by acknowledging with grateful hearts the many signal favors of Almighty God especially by affording them an opportunity peaceably to establish a form of government for their safety and happiness.
Now therefore I do recommend and assign Thursday the 26th day of November next to be devoted by the People of these States to the service of that great and glorious Being, who is the beneficent Author of all the good that was, that is, or that will be– That we may then all unite in rendering unto him our sincere and humble thanks–for his kind care and protection of the People of this Country previous to their becoming a Nation–for the signal and manifold mercies, and the favorable interpositions of his Providence which we experienced in the course and conclusion of the late war–for the great degree of tranquility, union, and plenty, which we have since enjoyed–for the peaceable and rational manner, in which we have been enabled to establish constitutions of government for our safety and happiness, and particularly the national One now lately instituted–for the civil and religious liberty with which we are blessed; and the means we have of acquiring and diffusing useful knowledge; and in general for all the great and various favors which he hath been pleased to confer upon us.
and also that we may then unite in most humbly offering our prayers and supplications to the great Lord and Ruler of Nations and beseech him to pardon our national and other transgressions– to enable us all, whether in public or private stations, to perform our several and relative duties properly and punctually–to render our national government a blessing to all the people, by constantly being a Government of wise, just, and constitutional laws, discreetly and faithfully executed and obeyed–to protect and guide all Sovereigns and Nations (especially such as have shewn kindness unto us) and to bless them with good government, peace, and concord–To promote the knowledge and practice of true religion and virtue, and the encrease of science among them and us–and generally to grant unto all Mankind such a degree of temporal prosperity as he alone knows to be best.
Given under my hand at the City of New York the third day of October in the year of our Lord 1789.
Go: Washington
Seriously, Read the Whole Book
So, I was in the express lane at the grocery store the other day when the woman in front of me reached into her bag to pay for her purchases. My eye was caught first by the gorgeous diamond ring she was wearing, second by the Louis Viutton bag she reached into, third by the Louis Vuitton wallet she pulled out of that bag and finally by the SNAP ebt card she pulled out of that wallet.
“Well, isn’t that just typical?” I thought.
Then, I caught myself. I had to ask what I really know about that woman. Is that a real diamond? Are the purse and wallet real? If they all are, did she once have a great-paying job and lose it? Is she a system leech? The truth is, I don’t know. I know literally nothing about that woman other than what I saw at first glance, which is to say – still – nothing.
I hadn’t read the book. I’d only seen the cover.
The whole incident reminded me of an article I read several months ago in the Washington Post – This is what happened when I drove my Mercedes to pick up food stamps. Take a few minutes to read that. It’s truly enlightening, if you choose to let it be. The woman and her husband were neither the Haves nor that Have Nots. They were the Once Hads.
And there are lots of us.
I work in an industrial setting. I make about a quarter of what I made two years ago. I went nearly a whole year with no income at all and nearly bankrupted myself trying to sell insurance – a job I’m not well-suited for. I worry about money all the time. I don’t make enough to keep up, but I make too much to get help.
And I’m not alone.
In that industrial setting, I work with more college graduates and even advanced degree holders than you can imagine. I work with former business owners who, like me, are not at all convinced that this recession is over, regardless of what the news says. We are all constantly looking for jobs that will pay us salaries closer to what we used to make; but, those jobs are tougher to find than you might imagine (and I seriously hope that the truths I’m sharing here don’t torpedo my efforts).
In the last two years of feeling like I constantly have my hand out asking for something, owing more people than I can consider if I want to sleep at all, and working harder to make less than I’ve ever made in my life, I’ve learned a great deal. I was much less socially compassionate than I thought I was when I was able to make ends meet. People just needed to worker harder or find better paying jobs. If it’s this hard for me with a degree, how much harder is it for someone without one? How about that kid with a GED? Should she have taken out massive student loans to earn a degree which may not do her any good? What if she’s from an environment that just doesn’t see that as an option? How many minimum wage jobs does she have to work to be able to afford a place to live? I can tell you that when I was making good money, I had no clue how difficult it was at the bottom of the food chain.
Having read at least part of the book, I have a better understanding now.
What’s She Worth? (Part 5)
James Ellroy, best-selling author, was ten years old when his mother was raped, murdered and dumped on the side of the road near Los Angeles. Ellroy ended up a homeless drug addict until he turned his life around. His book My Dark Places chronicles his work with LA cold case detective Bill Stoner. In his decades of experience, Stoner has come to the conclusion that, generally, women kill men to stop the abuse. Men kill women over a scorched grilled cheese. (He said it better than that; but, you get the idea.) Of course, there are some women who are just as deadly as men; however, statistically, women are more often the victims in domestic violence cases. The man who raped and murdered Ellroy’s mother was never caught. Her son was the only one who paid dearly for her death … and he had nothing to do with it.
The Price to Be Paid
Reeva Steenkamp paid with her life for dating Pistorius. As tragic as that is, the fact is that Reeva’s suffering is over. However, the suffering of those who love her continues with every day and every breath. They continue to pay the price.
One of my favorite authors is Peter Tremayne (penname of Peter Beresford Ellis) who writes the Sister Fidelma mysteries set in 7th century Ireland. Tremayne is an Irish historian who stealthily and shamelessly inserts educational information into his fiction. I was fascinated by how the ancient legal system dealt with murder and the whole Pistorius situation brought it to mind.
In 7th century Ireland, a murderer was required to pay the family of their victim an honor price which was based on the victim’s standing in the community. Obviously, the honor price of a king would be much greater than that of a farm worker. Whatever the price, though, the murderer had to pay it. If they could not or would not, they would be turned over to the family of their victim. The family then had three choices: 1. await payment, 2. sell the murderer into slavery, or, 3. kill them. If the family chose to kill the murderer, there could be no penalty exacted on them. But what if the murderer fled?
In that event, the family launched a blood feud (although I’m still foggy on exactly what this means) and the murderer became an outlaw. Being an outlaw did not mean that the murderer had no respect for the law (that had already been clearly demonstrated), rather, it meant that the outlaw lived outside the protection of the law. Anyone could do anything to an outlaw with complete impunity. No outlaw could hide behind the very laws he broke.
This ancient practice was brought to mind specifically when I read that Pistorius had offered Steenkamp’s family a one time payment of 375,000 rand (roughly $33,154 ). Steenkamp’s mother refused the “blood money;” but, citing economic hardship, she did accept monthly payments of 6,000 rand (or 530.46) from Pistorius. When considering these figures, I cannot help but imagine that during the very early days of their relationship, Pistorius told Steenkamp how special and valuable she was to him. Well, it turns out she really wasn’t all that valuable. She was really kind of a bargain at $33K.
Tragically, many women aren’t worth even that much to their partners, their communities or their governments. They are decorations and props to be controlled emotionally, physically and sexually.
And that’s what makes my blood boil.
What’s She Worth? (Part 4)
So, yesterday, we talked a little bit about why women stay and the reason that they give over and over is fear – fear of being alone, fear that their abuser is right and that they are worthless, fear of not being able to make it financially and, of course, fear of violence. According to the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence, one in three women and one in four men have experienced some sort of physical violence at the hands of an intimate partner. One in five women and one in seven men have experienced some severe physical violence at the hands that intimate partner. Think of all the people you know, then plug those formulae in. Kind of shocking when you think of it that way, huh? You probably don’t know just one person who has been the object of violence, you probably know several. But, regular reader, even if you really don’t think you know anyone, you know me; so, yes, you do know one.
The Goddess is One
Several years ago, I dated a man (we’ll call him Michael on account of that was his name) for just a few months. The relationship wasn’t really serious; but, it was fun. Although he was a burly guy, he had never hurt me or been aggressive in any way; he was just a guy. One evening we had plans to get together and cook dinner at his place. He had been out playing golf all afternoon and drinking beer; but, I thought nothing of that since I’ve spent lots of time with people who both golf and drink beer and have never had a problem. When I got there, I noticed that his behavior was a little more aggressive than usual; but, I didn’t think a whole lot about it. After dinner, though, things got a little weird and, eventually, very bad. I won’t go into the details because you don’t need to know them all and, frankly, I don’t want to relive them all. Suffice it to say that he assaulted me.
Now, MANY years ago, I took a women’s self-defense class that I called my Wednesday night kick and scream. It was fantastic and was very instrumental in getting me through this episode. After the initial shock, I was able to return to a relatively calm mental state and assess the situation. Could I defend myself? What would happen if I tried? I determined that I would be unable to incapacitate him and would likely only enrage him with my efforts; so, I switched gears. You see, I knew that there was a loaded handgun in a drawer that was very near to him, but too far away from me. I didn’t want to give him a reason to reach for it; so, I watched my own behavior to see what I did that made him worse and I stopped doing those things. I told myself over and over that all I had to do was to get home. And, get home, I did.
And I did not file a police report.
Before you get all indignant, you need to know that he left no visible marks on me that could not be explained. In the end, it would have been his word against mine, and although I’m sure I could have made him leave marks that would have bolstered my story, I was afraid to. So, I just left and told him the next day (from a safe distance) that he was never to contact me again in any way. He knew where I lived and, for months, I was terrified that he would be waiting for me when I got home from work after dark. In fact, I often ran from my car to the front door. However, I was one of the lucky ones, he never came after me.
For far too many women (and men) this is not the case – their abuser stalks them. In the case of one woman I know, her abuser stalked her for years! He terrorized her on the subway, walking down the sidewalk, around her work and her home. He never let her forget that he was there. One in seven women and one in thirteen men have been stalked by a former intimate partner in such a way that they feared for their own safety or for the safety of those they loved.
So, think again of all the people that you know. Many of them have lived this nightmare; but, no one around them has any idea. We don’t talk about it and because we don’t talk about it, the abusers live freely in the silence.
What’s She Worth? (Part 3)
Oscar Pistorius’s own friends described his temper as volatile. They gave testimony regarding him firing guns in public, once in a restaurant. Maybe they’re telling the truth, maybe they aren’t. I don’t know. All we do know is that he killed her and that he says it was by mistake. (You can read his statement here.) The couple had been dating for four months. Steenkamp’s mother says that her daughter’s bags were packed and that she was leaving the man who killed her. If, as her mother claims, Steenkamp was afraid of Pistorius, why didn’t she leave before? Why did she stay? Why does any woman stay?
That Doesn’t Happen In Real Life
While watching the movie Sarah’s Key, my son asked me why the Parisian Jews meekly went to the Vélodrome d’Hiver to eventually be sent to concentration camps and killed. Why didn’t they fight back? Because what was going to happen to them was unthinkable. The Jews had been displaced and despised before; so, many of them were prepared for that. They sewed their valuables into the hems of their clothes preparing to having nothing but literally the clothes on their back to start over with; but, they certainly didn’t expect to be exterminated. I mean, who would? That doesn’t even make sense in a civilized society that people would be rounded up like that and murdered. Of course, if the same thing were to happen now, the response would be different. It’s been done before; so, it’s thinkable. Like on 9/11: it was unthinkable that aircraft would be used as missiles; so, there was no resistance on the first three planes. The passengers on the fourth plane knew what had happened to the others and they resisted.
I think that the same kind of thinking goes into situations of domestic violence. None of us has ever been killed before; so, we don’t really think that anyone we know would kill anyone and certain that they wouldn’t kill us. But, it’s not that simple.
Abusers don’t start relationships being abusive. There is a definite pattern to how they go about isolating and tearing down their victims. By the time the actual beatings start, the victim often believe they deserve it. They believe that they have no place to go, that no one will take them in. They may have no money or they may be too embarrassed to seek help. More often than not, they are just too scared.
They are scared to stay; but, scared to leave. After all, what protection does the law really afford them? Newspapers and televisions are full of stories of women who left their abusive partners only to be killed by them shortly thereafter. I’ve attached a video of the Dixie Chicks’ very bouncy “Good-bye, Earl.” Its tell us that after Wanda filed for divorce, “Earl walked right through that restraining order and put her in intensive care.” It’s catchy and it’s sadly true. According to one report, 75% of women who are killed by their partners are killed after they leave. According to another, a woman is 70 times more likely to be killed by her partner in the two weeks after she leaves that at any other time in the relationship. By those metrics, the woman is safer if she stays!
Fear, folks. Plain and simple. Fear is why most women stay and the fear is not only real, statistically, it’s valid. The woman is right to be afraid. She’s literally betting her life on him letting her go.
And even if he physically lets her go, the fear is ever present. For one friend of mine, it’s still there 28 years later.
What can create a fear that paralysing? I’ll share my own limited experience with you tomorrow.
What’s She Worth? (Part 2)
Reeva Steenkamp – model and Oscar Pistorius’s girlfriend. That’s all we know about her – well, in the States, at least. Maybe in South Africa the media has given more information about her than just those surface facts; but, in my searches, I haven’t found it. I really would have hoped to have found several articles about her – about who she was, what she accomplished and what she dreamed. Instead, I found lots of ink labelling her a model and, thus, essentially dismissing her. She becomes a cardboard cutout and, thus, nothing more than a supporting cast member in the life of paralympian hero Pistorius.
I’m not sure which urge is stronger for me at this point: to gag or to sob at the tragedy of this.
First Thing We Do, Let’s Kill All the Lawyers
Perhaps Pistorius is a fan of Shakespeare’s Henry, VI (Part 2) and agrees with Dick when he makes this pronouncement in Scene 2 of Act 4….. Nah, I don’t think so, either. Still, Steenkamp was more than a supporting cast member. She had a favorite color, a favorite food, a favorite song. She had a mother who adored her. She was a full-on human being with all that entails. She actually was a lawyer, having graduated with a law degree from Nelson Mandela Metropolitan University. Now, I don’t know if South African law degrees are the same as ours in the US and, while I can find statements saying that she was studying for the bar and working as a paralegal, I cannot find any that say that she actually passed the bar or practiced law as an attorney. Regardless, I’m fairly certain that their law degrees aren’t handed out like handi-wipes at Buffalo Wild Wings any more than ours are. The woman had a brain in her head and, before she turned to modeling and television, she worked to get that degree. And, according to a friend, how did she plan on using it? By helping victims of domestic violence.
Is that irony or just a really bad cosmic joke?
In addition to being an intelligent woman, she was a determined one. While in her early 20s, she was injured in a horse riding accident. She broke her back and had to learn to walk again. That takes some grit! Never having had to learn to walk after a broken back myself, I did a little research. Not in any piece I read did I find the words “easy,” “painless,” or “quick.” Recovering from those injuries takes a lot of time, a great deal of determination and dedication. The process is grueling and painful. And it’s a process that this “supporting cast member” survived.
Recently, Steenkamp’s mother June has opened up about some things her daughter told her (or, in the effort to be unbiased, things she says that her daughter told her). She says that although Reeva had been seeing Oscar for four months and was sleeping at his house, the two did not have a sexual relationship. June says that Reeva was uncomfortable taking the relationship to that level and, in fact, was going to leave Oscar when he killed her. June says that Reeva’s bags were packed which backs up her claim.
Even if June is incorrect and is stating more of what she wants to be true than what actually is true (and I’m not saying anything either way since I know only what I read), one does wonder why a woman who had been passionate about helping victims of domestic abuse would stay in a relationship with a man who has been described by his own friends as moody and who had a well-documented history of firing guns in public.
Why didn’t she just leave?
We’ll talk about that tomorrow.
What’s She Worth? (Part 1)
Fair warning: I’ve had the subject of a woman’s value on my mind for a few weeks now and I’m going to share my thoughts with you over the next few days. I’ve been trying let my thoughts settle and gel into one cohesive post; but, they’re jut not doing it. My thoughts are coming from several directions and just won’t boil down to 700 words or less. While I not a professional writer, I have learned not to try to wrestle my thoughts into submission. I have to let the story tell itself or else I’m not happy with it at all. Thus, I’m just going to put my thoughts down in the way they’ve been demanding and we’ll just go from there.
On The Face Of It
Renee Zellweger was the talk of the internet recently when she showed at at an event looking quite different from before. Now, bear in mind that she’s been out of the limelight for a little while now; so, it’s not like there were photos from last week to compare to. A few years have passed; but, there was a great deal of speculation about what kind of work she might have had done and popular opinion seems to be that she had an eyelid lift or some such thing. One talking head at TMZ seemed to lament the change in her eyes, saying, “This is the thing that made Renee Zellweger herself.” Really.
You may be surprised to hear that I am a big fan of Russell Brand. While his style of expression is certainly different from my own, I think the man is brilliant and I certainly would not want to be the focus of that razor brain of his. In response to the talking head, Russell lampooned that it was, indeed, her eyes that made Zellweger herself, “not any kind of essential relationship with an unknowable entity, not her personal experiences that she’s been through, not her talent or her charm, or her individual experiences as a woman. It’s her eyes. That’s what made her herself.” (I’ve attached the video where Russell sounds off below. It’s brilliant. Check it out.)
Certainly, Zellweger is an actress and, as such, is judged largely on her appearance; however, this whole hoopla reduces her to even less than a cardboard cutout. She is just the eyes of a cardboard cutout. I’ve seen several of her films and have to say the the Bridget Jones ones usually mentioned with her are probably my least favorites. She was great in One True Thing, Deceiver, White Oleander and Chicago. And, honestly, she made Cold Mountain for me. Without her character Ruby, that just would have been two hours of my life I’ll never get back! My point is this: the woman is talented and is more than just the eyes of a cardboard cutout.
Another woman who has been reduced to a single dimension is Reeva Steenkamp. Think about the news reports. What do you know about her?
- She was a model.
- She was dating Olympic runner Oscar Pistorius.
- She was hiding in the bathroom when Oscar shot her to death.
Three things – and two of them are related to Pistorius and have little to do with Steenkamp herself! So. She was a model. That’s it. She was a pretty face and nothing more. Except that she was more. Her murder and his sentencing are what started this whole line of thought in my head. I’ll share more about that with you tomorrow.
The Daily Doty 