Month: July 2017

I have no great love for Attorney General Jeff Sessions.  I think he is moving the justice system away from “justice” in his approach to immigration, civil rights in policing, women’s rights, and criminal justice sentencing.  That said, even I was taken aback by President Trump’s repeated public ridicule of the first senator who supported his bid for president when no one else did.  And then the nastiness got worse. Continue reading “Is being mean our new cultural norm?”

I readily admit that I have no idea why 30-35%  of the U.S. population continues to support President Donald Trump.  In my mind, their continued support defies all reason.  I need to be empathetic and compassionate towards my fellow Americans, not angry at them.  It starts with trying hard to understand their point of view.

I’m thinking that perhaps they haven’t had anyone try to reason with them.  Maybe they have been too busy trying to live their lives to pay attention to any news besides Fox.  Maybe they remain in a bubble, surrounded by other Trump supporters.  Maybe they truly hate American government and want to rebuild it into a dictatorship (I hope not).  Or maybe they are just lying to themselves, too stubborn to admit the reality of the situation.  In any case, I’m compelled to lay out reasons why this President no longer deserves the support of any patriotic American. Continue reading “To Trump Supporters”

It’s July in Southern California.  It was around 100 degrees outside and according to my new Charger 2 Fitbit, I was another 5,000 steps away from my newly established daily goal of 10,000 steps.  I had already finished 35 minutes on the treadmill and the house was clean from efforts to reach the prior day’s goal.  While there is always gardening to be done, I’m a wimp when it comes to heat and so I only garden when it is cool, meaning early morning or early evening.  So, I did what seemed reasonable:  I headed for the mall. Continue reading “Escape to the Mall”

I planted American flags in various pots around  my backyard in preparation for a 4th of July barbecue with a few family and friends.  The early part of the day while cooking, I was glued to the History Channel’s retelling of our nation’s history from the reasons and events leading up to the July 4, 1776 Declaration of Independence and the subsequent War for Independence.  I watched episode after episode up through the Industrial Revolution.  So much in our history made me proud and made me angry.  I learned that a third of the cowboys were black and brown men.  I marveled at the bravery of the “rough necks” who built the first skyscrapers and bridges and the Chinese who bravely handled the nitroglycerin to enable the building of the railroad passages.  I was impressed at the ingenuity of Americans of diverse backgrounds whose inventions greatly improved life as we know it.   But at times, I was downright sick with sadness, like at the treatment of slaves and the payment for that horrible sin in the carnage of the Civil War. The decimation of the buffalo and the story of Wounded Knee brought me to tears.

Even though America has too often gotten it wrong in its treatment of humanity and nature, this is my country and I love it.  It is worth fighting for in word and deed.  For many, it was and is worth dying for.  We have always struggled to live up to our own ideals upon which this nation was founded.  We continue to struggle to get it right, arguing though protest movements, Supreme Court cases, a Civil War and now everyday protests and debates.  Today, with this President, we must fight as patriots to insist that we live up to those high ideals.  On my mind today is the fight over immigration since one of my son-in-laws is about to become a U.S. Citizen on July 14th.

It seems that some of us have forgotten that this is a nation of immigrants.  Some would like to ignore the Statue of Liberty and the poem, “The New Colossus”, written by Emma Lazarus in 1883 to raise public funds that were needed to build the base for the statue (a gift from France).  The words of the poem are now engraved on the tablet and it is good to remind ourselves of them:

“Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name Mother of Exiles.

From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. ‘Give me your tired, your
poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

I topped off the 4th watching the Macy’s Fireworks show on television.  It was beautiful.  Maybe next year, I’ll go to my hometown show again on the 3rd.  It just wasn’t the same watching them from my bedroom window this year.  Being there to celebrate with my fellow Americans makes a world of difference.

 

My father was an abusive husband when he drank.  And he drank a lot.  He was an alcoholic who got into enough car accidents that his license had to be revoked.  Thankfully, he didn’t kill and injure innocent people while behind the wheel.  Surviving in a household with a mixture of love and affirmation, violence and terror, occasional affluence followed by poverty, all resulting from one parent’s alcoholism takes some resilience and work to achieve and maintain emotional stability. Continue reading “Daddy Issues”