Jedus Bon - The Christmas Story in Gullah

Jedus Bon

Een dat time, Caesar Augustus been de rula ob de Roman people. E mek a law een all de town een de wol weh e hab tority, say, “Ebrybody haffa go ta town fa count by de head an write down e name.” 

2Dis been de fus time dey count by de head, jurin de time Quirinius de gobna ob Syria country. 

3So den, ebrybody gone fa count by de head, ta e own town weh e ole people been bon.

4Now Joseph same fashion gone fom Nazareth town een Galilee. E trabel ta de town name Betlem een Judea, weh de ole people leada, King David, been bon. Joseph gone dey cause e blongst ta David fambly. 

5E gone fa count by de head, an Mary gone long wid um. E gage fa marry um. An Mary been speckin. 

6Same time wen dey been dey, time come fa Mary gone een. 

7E hab boy chile, e fusbon. E wrop um op een closs wa been teah eenta scrip an lay um een a trough weh dey feed de cow an oda animal dem. Cause Mary an Joseph beena stay weh de animal sleep. Dey ain been no room fa dem eenside de bodin house.

De Shephud Dem Go fa See de Chile Jedus

8Now some shephud been dey een de fiel dat night. Dey beena stay dey, da mind dey sheep. 

9Den one angel ob de Lawd appeah ta um. De night time done lightnin op jes like day clean broad. Cause ob dat, de shephud mos scaid ta det. 

10Bot de angel tell um say, “Mus dohn feah! A hab good nyews wa gwine mek ebrybody rejaice. 

11Cause A come fa tell oona, ‘Right now, dis day, a Sabior done bon fa oona. E Christ de Lawd. An e bon een David town!’ 

12A gwine tell oona wa oona gwine see dey. Cause ob dat, oona gwine know A done tell oona de trute. Oona gwine find de chile wrop op een closs wa been teah eenta scrip, an e been leddown een a trough.”

13All ob a sudden, a heapa oda angel fom heaben been longside dat angel. Dey all da praise God, say,

14“Leh we gii glory ta God een de mos high heaben.

Leh dey be peace ta dem een de wol wa hab God fabor!”

15Den de angel lef um an gone back ta heaben. An de shephud dem say ta one noda, “Leh we go ta Betlem fa see dis ting wa happen oba dey. De Lawd esef done sen e angel fa tell we.”

Gullah is a beautiful creole language spoken on the Sea Islands of South Carolina and Georgia.

November 22, 1963

A few weeks ago, on November 22, we marked the 48th anniversary of the assassination of President John F. Kennedy as he rode in a motorcade in an open car through Dealy Plaza in the city of Dallas, Texas, in 1963.

Everyone remembers where they were when they heard the news that one of our most beloved presidents had been cut down by a bullet. I was at school in a ninth grade classroom surrounded by my classmates in my hometown of Reidsville, North Carolina. The principal's voice interrupted our activities as it came over the school's public address system. In faltering words, he informed us that our president had been shot and killed. He told us the president was dead.

My classroom erupted in applause.

I will never forget it. Most of the students in the room applauded. There was a joyful atmosphere, a celebratory mood. The few of us who were not clapping were in shock, crying. I cried for President Kennedy and the loss of his life, for his wife and children who would have to go on without him. I cried both for my country and the blow she had just taken, and I cried for myself for having to be in that room at that time and that place.

You have to be taught to hate like that. It doesn't come naturally. These young kids had learned this at home and had brought it to school with them. There I had to be exposed to it in all its sickening reality. It left a scar that remains to this day. There's another post I could write on the assassination, on the events of the days that followed, but when I look back, the first thing I remember is that they applauded.

They applauded.

The Madison Revolution- Tom Degan's The Rant

smart in the south

GOOD OLE BOYS LIKE ME

Don Williams

1980

When I was a kid Uncle Remus would put me to bed
With a picture of Stonewall Jackson above my head
Then Daddy came in to kiss his little man
With gin on his breath and a Bible in his hand
He talked about honor and things I should know
Then he'd stagger a little as he walked out the door.

I can still hear the soft southern winds in the live oak tree
And those Williams boys still mean a lot to me - Hank and Tennessee
I guess we're all gonna be what what we're gonna be
So what do you do with good ole boys like me?

Now nothing makes a sound in the night like the wind does
But you ain't afraid if you're washed in the blood like I was
Smell of jasmine through the window screen
John R and the Wolfman kept me company
By the light of the radio by my bed
With Thomas Wolfe whispering inside my head.

When I was in school I ran with a kid down the street
And I watch him burn himself up on bourbon and speed
But I was smarter than most and I could choose
Learned to talk like the man on the 6 o'clock news
When I was eighteen Lord I hit the road
But it really doesn't matter how far I go

I can still hear the soft southern winds in the live oak tree
And those Williams boys still mean a lot to me - Hank and Tennessee
I guess we're all gonna be what we're gonna be
So what do you do with good ole boys like me?

The Land of the Free No More

Behind closed doors, Senators John McCain (R-AZ) and Carl Levin (D-MI) drafted a bill without a single hearing, and the dreadful S. 1867 National Defense Authorization Act should come before the Senate for a vote early this week. In the words of Senator Lindsay Graham (R-SC), the bill will "basically say in law for the first time that the homeland is part of the battlefield." Even your hometown. Understand the effect of making everywhere in the U.S., the mall, the beach, the grocery store, your back yard, part of the battlefield. This greatly expands the powers of the Commander-in-Chief.

This bill will, by declaring America the battlefield, give the President and every future president the power to order the military to grab and whisk away into detention any American citizen anywhere in the world - even here at home. Citizens can be detained without charge, without a warrant, solely on the word of the President. There is no right to an attorney and detention may be indefinite, even for life. No trial, no judge, no jury, no lawyer, no charges, no rights whatsoever, just because one man or woman says so.

Surely our Democratic President Barack Obama opposes this bill. He has been said to, but he has not been active or vocal in fighting against this militarization of civilian life. Nor does he oppose the expansion of the military into the ranks of the local police. The militarization of the police has been showcased in the last few weeks as peaceful, unarmed, nonviolent demonstrators have been beaten, clubbed, arrested, and sprayed with military grade pepper spray, in some cases being held down and being sprayed down their throats as at the University of California at Davis. This situation goes against centuries of law and custom, keeping the military and the police separate, but once the whole country is the battlefield this issue will be moot.

At the first assault on the Occupy movement in Oakland, Scott Olsen, a veteran of two tours in Iraq, was wounded and awarded a cracked skull for his service when a military style police raid destroyed the Occupy encampment. His speech and language centers on the left side of his brain are still damaged. In Seattle, an 84-year-old Dorli Rainey was pepper sprayed when paramilitary police in riot gear stormed the Occupy site. Ms. Rainey is up and still fighting. A young pregnant woman was not so fortunate. After being pepper sprayed and kicked in the stomach by Seattle's Storm Troopers, she miscarried. And Right Wingers blamed her, saying that because she was pregnant she should have stayed away from the protest. But that's the point, isn't it? You should be safe at a peaceful, nonviolent protest. You have the right to assemble, to petition your government for redress of grievances. It's in the Bill of Rights, part of our Constitution.

And I must mention the idiots on Fox News calling military grade pepper spray a "food product," playing the tape with the screams muted and the sound down so that Bill-O could say that the spray didn't seem to bother the protesters so much. On other networks, you could hear screaming, wailing, sobbing.

Tonight at one minute after midnight there will be showdown between evicted Occupiers in Los Angeles and the police. We do not know yet how this will transpire. Petitions are circulating imploring the mayor to call off the eviction.

We are living among thousands of fraudulent foreclosures by banks that received bailout money from the tax payers to pay their top managers 12-figure bonuses. The Republicans who would rather shoot their grandmothers than raise taxes on the rich by letting the Bush tax cuts expire do no mind letting the middle and working classes get hit by not renewing the cut in the payroll tax. That's because our politicians are corporate property. And the Supreme Court has paved the way to complete the corporate takeover of the government with its absurd Citizens United Decision that says that corporations are persons before the law with all the rights that accrue thereto. I agree with the sign seen at an Occupy protest: I will believe corporations are people when Texas executes one. Which reminds me of the spontaneous applause the debate audience gave Governor Rick Perry when it was pointed out that he has presided over more executions, almost 250, than any other governor. Where is Orwell when we need him?

Oakland's mayor has admitted discussing the raid on the Occupy movement there with the mayors of up to 18 other cities, joined by the FBI and the Department of Homeland Security. What are they doing in local matters involving nonviolent protests? Well, you know, there are no divisions anymore between police and military, local and federal, civil and criminal, corporation and government. We have reached fascism, our newly minted police state still polishing its boots before kicking another pregnant woman in the stomach. But we are there. The line has been crossed. Our emails, phone calls, communications are monitored and mined without warrants. FISA is a joke now. GPS tracking can be secretly placed on a citizen's vehicle without a warrant. For God's sake, 4000 of the 5500 Zuccotti Park Library books, BOOKS, at Occupy Wall Street were destroyed.

At the same time the Christian Dominionists pursue their agenda, which is to establish the kingdom of God here on earth before the Second Coming. They want dominion over all levels and branches of government and to place the Bible above the Constitution. Not only abortion but also contraception will be illegal. Michele Bachmann has been endorsed by their own Dr. George Grant who can be seen in this video  stating that what they want is "World Conquest."

There's so much more that I may be adding and revising this blog entry for days and days.

This great and beautiful country is seriously ill. The Enlightened wisdom of the Founders is being twisted from secular into religious and Jesus is being turned into Rambo. The Bill of Rights is in shreds. The government has merged with corporatism, Mussolini's definition of fascism. Police state tactics rule over idealistic young protestors who have hit the money button too close for comfort. Down is up and wrong is right. If you just consume and mind your own business, you might never even know it. But trying to be part of the solution has become very dangerous.

The Values of the Christian Left

I'd like to share an article that meant a lot to me. Here it is.

The Values of the Christian Left
by Stephen A. Foster, Jr.
( www.addictinginfo.org/2011/10/20/the-values-of-the-christain-left/ )

The right-wing claims to have some sort of monopoly on Christianity and they claim that liberals are godless heathens who have no values. Well, that couldn’t be further from the truth. The left-wing has Christians too, and they are collectively known as The Christian Left.

The Christian Left is a group of liberal Christians who support political and social movements that promote social justice. They believe in following the teachings of Jesus Christ, like caring for the poor and healing the sick, and in that effort, they also support universal health care, welfare provision, subsidized education, foreign aid, pacifism, and Affirmative Action for improving the conditions of the disadvantaged.

The Christian Left follows the true teachings of Jesus as written in the Bible and believe the Christian Right has their priorities wrong. Jesus consistently advocated for the poor and the helpless over the wealthy, the powerful, and the religious. If the Christian Right actually read the Bible, they would find that it contains over 300 verses on social justice, the poor, and God’s concern for both.

Ps. 140:12. I know that the LORD will maintain the cause of the afflicted, and justice for the poor.
Luke 6:20-21. Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. Blessed are you who hunger now, for you shall be satisfied. Blessed are you who weep now, for you shall laugh.
James 2:5. Did not God choose the poor of this world to be rich in faith and heirs of the kingdom which He promised to those who love Him?

In the Bible, God commands us to help the needy and the sick. Sadly many churches, especially on the Christian Right, have abandoned these core principles upon which the Christian religion was built. The Christian Left, however, has NOT abandoned them. They have embraced them.

Deut. 15:7. If there is a poor man among you, one of your brothers, in any of the towns of the land which the LORD your God is giving you, you shall not harden your heart, nor close your hand to your poor brother; but you shall freely open your hand to him, and generously lend him sufficient for his need in whatever he lacks.
Prov. 31:8ff. [Commandment to kings.] Open your mouth for the dumb, for the rights of all the unfortunate. Open your mouth, judge righteously, and defend the rights of the afflicted and needy.
Jer. 22:3. Do justice and righteousness, and deliver the one who has been robbed from the power of his oppressor. Also do not mistreat or do violence to the stranger, the orphan, or the widow; and do not shed innocent blood in this place.

According to the Bible, there are serious consequences for those who seek to oppress and take from the poor.

Is. 10:1-3. “Woe to those who enact evil statutes, and to those who continually record unjust decisions, so as to deprive the needy of justice, and rob the poor of My people of their rights… Now what will you do in the day of punishment, and in the devastation which will come from afar?”

The Christian Left has made it their mission to fight for the poor and the sick. Here is their mission as stated on their Facebook page.

“To follow Jesus by taking actions on behalf of the oppressed, the sick, the hungry, the poor, the incarcerated, the lonely, the disabled, the mentally ill, the mistreated, the war-torn, and the weak.”

The Christian Right on the other hand, has made it their mission to punish the poor on behalf of the wealthy. They have chosen war over peace, hate over love, believe in the death penalty, and believe the disabled are inferior. I believe the following Bible verse talks about both sides. I’m sure you’ll be able to tell which side is the righteous side.

Prov. 29:7. The righteous is concerned for the rights of the poor; the wicked does not understand such concern.

It’s pretty clear that the Christian Left is a righteous group that strives to improve the plight of the poor, while the Christian Right strives to steal from the poor so that the rich can be richer. Do you sometimes wonder exactly who is being robbed when the Right advocates against the poor? The answer comes to us straight out of the Bible itself.

Prov. 14:31. He who oppresses the poor reproaches his Maker, but he who is gracious to the needy honors Him.

When the Christian Right turns their backs on the poor, they turn their backs on God. That’s not righteous at all.

The Christian Left is also all-inclusive. They believe everyone has a place at God’s table, no matter their color, nationality, sexuality, or gender. They are the complete opposite of the Christian Right who believe only wealthy white people deserve to eat with the Lord. Unlike the right-wing, the Christian Left believes homosexuals are God’s children too. The only sexual morality we should each be concerned with is our own. Concerning ourselves with abortion and homosexuality only divides us and distracts us from real issues like making sure everyone has health care and making sure the poor are cared for. Even the Bible acknowledges this. Sodom wasn’t destroyed because of sexual immorality; it was destroyed because it “had arrogance, abundant food, and careless ease”– a pretty accurate description of America isn’t it?– and it “did not help the poor and needy”.

Members of the Christian Left do not always march in lockstep, but they agree that we need to practice the true teachings of Jesus and care for our fellow human beings in need. In a world where money and greed have become values, the Christian Left opens their hearts every day to those in need. They travel on a righteous and spiritual road toward salvation and love, and have committed themselves to the noble work of Jesus Christ. The Christian Left also welcomes anyone who would like to join them and their cause. If you consider yourself a member of the Christian Left or if you’re interested in learning more about them, you can visit their Facebook page, facebook.com/TheChristianLeft or you can visit them on the web at http://www.thechristianleft.org/.

I count myself as a member of the Christian Left, and I hope you will take the time to support them as well. Together, we can make the world a better place for everyone and make sure that the true teachings of Jesus flourish in America.

I need to be twins

I should have divided when I was newly in my mother's womb. I should have split into two identical twins. My parents are both very old and very sick. This week, they've both been in the hospital, Dad in Reidsville and Mom in Greensboro. I need to be a twin to be in two towns at once. My dad destroyed our family for another woman 41 years ago. He couldn't even be bothered to come to my high school graduation, and that is just the tip of the iceberg. In any contest for my help or my loyalty, Mom wins. She was always there for me. But now that they have both been in the hospital, this only child has needed to be twins just to keep up with the things that must be done for each of them.

In June, my father fell and hurt himself badly at the assisted living center in Reidsville where he has lived for several years. He was as sick and weak as if he had been beaten by a gang of hooligans. He was incontinent and out of his head. He spent four days in the hospital and was then transferred to a skilled nursing and rehabilitation center. The plan was that he would have daily physical therapy, occupational therapy, and grow strong enough to return to his assisted living center.

But his mind never snapped back into place. He had mild dementia before the fall, but was much worse after the fall. The doctors say they checked him out neurologically and that nothing had happened before or during the fall. He stayed six weeks in rehab, and then last Thursday, August 11, I took him, walking with his new walker, and his things back to assisted living. He immediately sat down in his rocker-recliner. But he did not rock. That is not normal for a Walker. People in my family all rock. But Dad sat still and watched me put his underwear and socks in the chest of drawers and hang his pants and shirts in his closet, put his toiletries in the bathroom. As I worked, many residents came into his room to welcome him back and to tell him how much they had missed him. He looked at these people as if he had never seen them before in his life.

Then he asked me, "Can we go now?"

"Go where?" I questioned.

"Home," he answered.

"We are home," I explained. "This is where you have lived for five years. You love it here. This IS your home. Isn't it wonderful to be back?"

And then he stood up to leave. He went with his walker to the nearest exit and stopped and just stood there. He waited a long time. Finally, he shouted my name.

"Vicki!" he said angrily. "Come open this door."

I had to tell him I could not do that for him, that he could not leave, that he had to stay. By now it was clear to me that he was not going to make it in assisted living. He reached out with one hand and opened the door himself and started to go through it, out into the hot August air. He was going to leave that place on his own.  I called for help. I took him by the arm to stop him, and then I thought he was going to hit me or knock me down - to shake me off of him so that he could continue to leave. He was very angry.

Again I asked him where he wanted to go. "Home," he said. "To the place in the country." We haven't had a place in the country since 1968, back when my parents were still married.

"I'm confused," he said. "And I want to leave this place."

The top two people were still out to lunch, in more ways than one, but the woman in charge came running to help. She got Dad back inside his room and told me they could handle him and for me to leave because my presence seemed to agitate him even more. He asked me, "What are you doing to me?" It was the worst I've ever felt in my entire life. I told Gayle, the acting director, that I needed a nerve pill and to get out of there.

I was so upset that I had trouble backing out of my parking space and drove up on the ALC's lawn. To an observer, I must have looked quite strange. Finally, I was out and headed south for Greensboro. But I couldn't just go home, get that nerve pill, and sit down and cry. I couldn't because my mom was in the hospital here in Greensboro and I had had to leave her all alone in order to move Dad in the first place. I had no siblings to help me. I needed to be twins.

Everyone thinks that Dad thought I was taking him home with me, and the home he associates with me is my house in the country in the Blue Ridge Mountains in Boone, NC, a house I decided to sell when I became disabled and my income went down. It was a large, beautiful place, and Dad loved it. He came to visit often, sometimes bringing Gabby, his German Shepherd. I have to say that if I had left Avante thinking I was going back to that home in Boone, but ended up being taken to Highgrove ALC, I'd have been angry, too.

Last Saturday I had picked Mom up in Reidsville and brought her to my house. We had gone out for what we jokingly called her "last meal" because the next day, she would be on a clear liquid diet, culminating in that awful stuff you drink in preparation for a colonoscopy, which Mom has scheduled for first thing Monday morning. Mom's doctor had found that for the first time in decades her blood work did not look good. She was extremely anemic and iron deficient, so much so that the doctor was convinced that she was losing blood somewhere internally. He prescribed a colonoscopy. Mom chose to have it done by a member of one of the best practices in this part of the country, here in Greensboro. Dr. Gessner told her that if he didn't find an answer to the question of the cause of her blood loss during that procedure, he wanted to do an endoscopy while she was still asleep to check out her stomach. And he noticed a horrible red, splotch, swollen patch on her left calf that her own family doctor had inititially declined to even look at. She left with instructions, a copy of which were sent to her primary care doctor, to follow up with him on the leg infection, but when she tried to, he was out of town.

Mom came through both procedures just fine. She had many polyps in her colon and her stomach. I didn't even know you could get polyps in the stomach. All were removed and turned out to be benign. But several of the stomach polyps had been very large and bloody, and Dr. Gessner believes he has found the source of her blood loss.

After the procedure, Dr. Gessner noted that the leg infection looked even worse than it had at the office visit the week before. He stepped up to the plate and hit a home run. He diagnosed cellulitis and admitted her on the spot. This is still Monday. I spent as much time as I could at the hospital with her the rest of the week until Thursday, when I had to leave her to go move Dad back to assisted living.

On Friday morning, I received a call from Dad's ALC, letting me know that he had calmed down, had eaten dinner and breakfast, and slept peacefully. You know they say if something sounds too good to be true, it probably is too good to be true. That's the thought I had when they claimed Dad was doing so well. I didn't buy it.

Friday was the day that Mom might be released. She had two doctors, an infectious disease specialist treating her for a treatment-resistant staph infection, and her Gastroenterologist. Doctor #1 wanted to keep her in the hospital on an antibiotic drip until Saturday, but doctor #2 favored Friday. Doctor #2 was the admitting physician, so he would have the final say on discharge, and he was leaning toward Friday. I went to the hospital Friday morning to fulfill an appointment I had made with mom's social worker who was trying to get her some financial help with the medicine they were going to prescribe for her after her release. The medicine was over $100.00 per pill, and she would need two daily for seven days to make $1400.00 plus. Addison was a very caring, very sweet woman, but she could not help Mom because Mom had Part D Medicare prescription insurance. It's the plan endorsed by AARP with United Health Care. We would see later that day that her plan, the plan that disqualified her for assistance, would not pay one penny toward the cost of this medication, yet it stopped her from getting help. Mom had to pay it all out of pocket.

Mom's admitting doctor and his PA came by and told us they'd be sending her home as soon as the paperwork was finished. She is to see the infectious disease specialist in his office on August 22 and do labwork that day. She will see the GI specialist on August 26, and she is to stay with me and be taken care of as long as I can persuade her to stay.

As I finished up my meeting the doctor and the PA, who thought United was going to pay 2/3 of the cost, my cell phone began singing "I still haven't found what I'm looking for," by U2, my anthem and ring tone. It was Dad's ALC informing me that he had gone wandering into another patient's room without his walker and had fallen, and they had sent him back to the hospital ER. I had to tell them that they would have to handle it, that I was in my mom's hospital room and that she was in the process of being discharged. There was no way I could get to the hospital in Reidsville. He'd have to go it alone. I called my cousin Van, spoke with his wife, and told her the situation. Van went to the ER and was very upset to see the van from the ALC coming to pick Dad up to take him back there. "He can't do assisted living," said Van. I told him I had already realized that and was already trying to get him back into Avante, the nursing and rehab center but that the only bed available to him for that night was at the assisted living center. You think I'm going to bring him into my home when my mom is already here and subject her to his presence after all he did to her?  This time when Dad goes to Avante he wouldn't be going in for rehab to go back to assisted living. This time it would be permanent. His bed was taken as soon as he checked out. There was no opening, but Debbie, the director of admissions, told me she had to work part of Saturday and that she would call me around 10:00 am.

By the time we got Mom out of the hospital and picked up the $1400 antibiotics, it was going on 6 pm Friday evening. We came in, had a small snack, and both of us collapsed and rested. I needed to go see about Dad but I couldn't leave Mom alone. She has some dementia too, and wasn't totally back to her old smart self, plus the infection on her leg makes it hard to walk safely and here her bedroom is upstairs. She needs watching and to be waited on. I need to be twins. An only child can't handle this. There needs to be another me.

Sure enough, right at 10 o'clock Saturday morning, Debbie called me and told me she had a bed for Dad and did I want it? DID I WANT IT? Of course I grabbed it. She said I did not need to leave my mother, that the ALC would pack up Dad's clothes and transport him back to Avante. I wouldn't have to be there. God bless the staffs at Highgrove and Avante for the work they did on Saturday morning for my father. By 11:30 he was settled back in a new room at Avante.

In mid-afternoon, I received a call from Avante saying that they had found Dad in the floor near his bed. He had tried to walk without his walker again and had gone down beside his bed. I couldn't go to Reidsville to check on him because I was helping Mom with her leg and with walking. I need to be twins. I was so glad that Avante hadn't over-reacted and sent him to the ER again. They checked him over, put alcohol and a bandaid on a scratch, and gave him a good talking to. "What are we going to do with him?" I had asked when the woman told me he had fallen again. This type of incident is extremely rare for Avante. They have alarms on the bed and on the wheelchairs that go off if the person gets up and the weight is gone. I don't expect any more trouble with falling at Avante. And they are staffed well enough that someone is always able to come when you need them. They do a great job. It's just a depressing place by its very nature, but they do it as well as it could be done.

Now, I have to go to Reidsville ASAP for a couple of reasons. One is that I have to sign the re-admission form for Dad at Avante. The second is I have to move all of Dad's personal belongings from his room at the Assisted Living Center. There's his rocker-recliner, an end table, a lamp, pictures on the wall, and antique school chair, a reproduction antique radio I got Dad when I lived in Kentucky,  teddy bear. He had a large L-shaped room with an area for sleeping and a sitting area with his chair and other chairs for guests. At Avante he would have to share a room the size of a hospital room and there is no room for any of the personal effects I just mentioned. And I can't carry them on my back. And I have no place to carry them. I need to be twins and one of us needs a basement. And we need a brother with a truck.

Mother and I just rested and read and napped on Saturday, knowing that Dad was being taken care of, and I tried not to think about the maddening confusion he must be experiencing from all this moving around.

So this only child will have to make arrangements for Mother on Monday, August 15. I will have to go to Reidsville and carry out duties for the other parent. And I have to be back in Greensboro by 3 pm for an appointment with my therapist, one I assure you I cannot afford to miss.

Dad smartly bought long term care insurance many years ago, so we can afford to have him in these centers. Mom did not. She didn't realize that everyone she knew was buying it. No agent tried to sell it to her. She just didn't understand. So it falls to me or to whatever she can pay for out of pocket to provide long term care for her. So when there's a choice between which one I'll be with, she wins, all things being equal.

I feel like my life ended this week. I see the rest of my 60's taken up, long days cleaning up Dad's messes, providing care for Mom. I think they will outlive me. Even if they don't, in 8 years, I will be 70 years old. I will start being sick at some point, and not only do I not have twins, I was never able to have children of my own. My family is crazy. I wanted the craziness to stop with me. I tell people I loved my children enough not to have them, although I wanted desperately to be a mother and babies and small children still make me want to cry. There will be no one to take care of me.

Well, it's Sunday afternoon. Mom is napping in the living room. I've been looking at real estate on the internet for a house big enough for the two of us to live together. We both have small houses, ok to have guests, but Mom wouldn't be able to bring a thing with her if she came here. I wish I had a twin. I wish she lived in Florida. I wish Mom could spend the winters with her and the summers with me. Ah, but I may as well be wishing for the moon. Mom had a miscarriage in 1961. I would have had a younger brother. Dad never acknowledged the reality of the pregnancy, never grieved the son he lost.

Life's just hard sometimes, you know?

Rick Perry

Just an hour ago, Texas Gov. Rick Perry announced he is running for president of the United States at the Red State Gathering in South Carolina, saying, "It is time to get America working again. That's why, with the support of my family, and an unwavering belief in the goodness of America, I declare to you today my candidacy for President of the United States."

Perry was quick to blame President Obama for Standard and Poor's downgrading of our AAA credit rating for the first time in history. He remarked, "In reality, though, this is just the most recent downgrade. The fact is that for nearly three years, President Obama has been downgrading American jobs, he’s been downgrading our standing in the world, he’s been downgrading our financial stability, he’s been downgrading our confidence and downgrading the hope for a better future for our children. That is a fact."

So he's in, but who is he?

In April, during a drought, while over 8,000 wild fires burned across Texas, Governor Perry signed a Proclamation designating the period from Friday, April 22, 2011, to Sunday, April 24, as Days of Prayer for Rain in the State of Texas. In May he revealed how he would handle some problems he might encounter as President of the United States: “I think it’s time for us to just hand it over to God, and say, ‘God: You’re going to have to fix this.’”

Last week, this Methodist governor attracted 30,000 people to Reliant Stadium in Houston for his Christians-only Response prayer meeting. And if you can't judge a book by it's cover, you sure can judge it by its contents. Just who was part of Perry's response and what do they believe?

First of all, there is C. Peter Wagoner, founder of the New Apostolic Reformation Movement, which seeks to bring about the end of the world by taking over all government and public functions, clearing the way for the Rapture and the End of the World. The End of the World? Yes. They want the world that we want to save to end. They are like the historical Marxist-Leninist who opposed reform because reform appeased the people, delaying revolution. They don't want to do anything to delay the end of the world. In addition, Wagoner seems to be obsessed with a sexual relationship between the Sun Goddess and the Emperor of Japan.

There is Bryan Fischer of the American Family Association, which the Southern Poverty Law Center counts as a hate group because of their attitudes toward gays. Fischer says there should be no more Mosques permitted to be built anywhere in the United States. Period. Fischer says that Hitler discovered that straight soldiers could not be made to be savage enough for his purposes, so he had to recruit gay men as Storm Troopers and Brown Shirts. He says there was no end to the savagery of the homosexual men. Fischer would deny rights of freedom of religion, guaranteed by the First Amendment, to the "counterfeit" religious. Hmmm, wonder which ones they are? Well, it's anything other than his idea of Christianity. Watch out Episcopalians! I'm serious. Eventually they will come for you.

There is Mike Bickle, who speaks of the coming of the "harlot of Babylon," who will prepare the way for the AntiChrist. He thinks it's probably Oprah.

There is John Hagee, who believes and states openly that God sent Hitler to fulfill His will by killing the Jews. It was all part of God's plan to nudge the Jews into moving back to Israel, see? Just a little persuasion. All part of God's will. Hagee has also called the Catholic Church a whore.

There is John Benefiel who thinks the Statue of Liberty is a demonic idol. There is a whole slew of these characters who want to remake American in their image of their idea of God and Christianity. They are beyond mainstream Christians, even beyond mainstream fundamentalists. They are extreme religious nuts. So far out there, they are from a galaxy far, far away.

Rick Perry didn't just have a prayer event. Rick Perry had a New Apostolic Reformation event. Yes, take over the government, the schools, the DMV, for heaven's sake. Bring out the harlot, bring on the rapture. These people WANT the world to end. Get it? T H E Y  W A N T  D E S T R U C T I O N.

What is Christianity? Is it what Rick Perry believes and represents or is it what mainstream Christians and the Christian Left believe? This question matters because Texas Governor Rick Perry may well be our next president, and he has a very idiosyncratic view of the constitution and of the union that makes us these United States. For starters, he finds both Social Security and Medicare unconstitutional.

Take the words of Jesus Christ and reconcile them with anything in this New Apostolic Reformation movement, but you can't. Christianity is the Beatitudes, the Sermon on the Mount, the babe in a manger, the Resurrection, the protection of even the guilty, the love of one's enemies. Christianity is the Golden Rule: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

You know, I don't think Rick Perry, Methodist and former Democrat, believes the stuff coming out of the mouths of these right wing religious fanatics for one minute, but I think he'll say he does. And I think he'll act as if he does because he believes that victory lies in the overwrought emotions of the right, overwrought since the election of Barack Obama, since the onset of Obama Derangement Syndrome. He thinks it's a winner, and as long as he thinks that, he will hold tightly to his Bible and to these people.

Who is Rick Perry?

Perry was George Bush's Lieutenant Governor, ascending to the Governorship in December 2000 after Bush was elected our 43rd president but before Bush took office on January 20, 2001. I knew little or nothing about Perry other than that he was quite handsome and youthful, a pleasure to this little old lady's eyes. And at the time, I thought no one could be dumber than Bush, meaner than Bush, more foolhardy than Bush, or more disrespectful of the spirit and the letter of the Constitution than Bush-Cheney. I could have been wrong. Perry may be worse than Bush.

After that, Perry was elected Governor in his own right in three times, so Texans must like him, or at least enough Texans like him. He is current and former chairman of the Republican Governors Association.  A 1972 graduate of Texas A&M, Perry was a mediocre-to-poor student, majoring in animal science and was once placed on academic probation. This poor record may explain his current attempt to gut Texas higher education by treating students like customers or consumers and placing inordinate faith in student evaluation of professors. His professors doled out many C's and D's. He did not do well in Economics class. He was a member of Alpha Gamma Rho fraternity and of the team of Yell Leaders. Yes, that IS like cheerleaders. After college, Perry served in the Air Force as a pilot until 1977, coming home to work the farm with his father. In 1982, he married his childhood sweetheart, Anita Thigpen, a graduate in nursing from West Texas State University, with whom he has two children.

In 1984 he joined the Texas House of Representatives as a Democrat, where he was considered a very effective legislator. He supported Al Gore in the 1988 presidential race,  but in no time he was fighting for austere budgets. He became a Republican in 1989. Think about it. This means he was a Democrat during both Reagan's terms in the office of President. You know there's no one more fervent than a convert, and Perry proves that old adage.

Early in his term as Governor, Perry increased funding to health care and education, the last vestiges of the Democrat he had once been. He was tough on crime and even vetoed a bill that would prevent the state from executing the mentally handicapped, and Texas has executed the retarded or otherwise mentally impaired. Over 230 people have been executed by the state of Texas during his tenure. He has allowed the execution of a man almost everyone believes was innocent and has been accused of covering that fact up. Perry has generally been for cutting spending and not raising taxes. In fact, he is for the repeal of the 16th amendment, which authorized the federal income tax, saying that is where Washington "went wrong." In general, Perry is a strong supporter of his own interpretation of the Tenth Amendment, guaranteeing States' Rights, but he's not much on individual rights. He is against gay marriage, against abortion rights, requiring that all mothers seeking abortion have an sonogram and be forced to look at their babies before they can have an abortion. He believes in teaching intelligent design in the schools but is a skeptic when it comes to man-made climate change.

Perry, who is from Paint Creek in the rolling hills of West Texas, describes himself as a Methodist and an Evangelical Christian. He believes that if you don't confess your sins to God and become cleansed by the blood of Christ, "you are going straight to hell." And he's a strong supporter of Israel, believing that God gave the Holy Land to the Jewish people centuries ago. And at the prayer fest he just sponsored he said that he thought God was too wise to become affiliated with any political party. I didn't expect that last statement.

Perhaps Perry's attitude toward secession is one of his better knows aspects. He stated in April, 2009, at a tea party rally that Texas came into the union with a special deal from the gitgo: that it could leave any time it wanted. Which of course is false. He went on to say that such action might be appropriate if Washington doesn't stop "thumbing its nose" at the people. How can you be president of a country you threaten to secede from? Why would you even want to if not to bring it down from the inside. That, of course, would be treason, and I don't mind saying it.

They want the world to end and they are traitors. Is that enough to get them elected? It just might be.

Little Bird

Little Bird

Kasey Chambers

A little bird once told me all the same things that he told Kasey Chambers: "If I hold my breath and do everything right, you might come back." Yes, if I just change and stop being me, he might come back and love me. If I only I had those breast implants, if I just "don't make a scene," "if I color my hair and I wear it down," "if I do not cry," "if I keep my opinion under my breath," "if I burn my records and listen to yours"...if I "look like the other girls."

If only Kasey's single Little Bird had come out that year. My heart smiles when she sings out, "But I don't want you that bad."

I was even told that if I voted Republican, I could come home, but I didn't want to go home that bad. Even if I had wanted to vote Republican, which I did not, I couldn't have gone home under those conditions. Sell my vote for you? No. I don't want you that bad.

Oh God, how I loved that man, I never really got over the break in my heart from so many years ago. It still aches. He got over it just fine, but not me. I really tried to make myself over UP TO A POINT.  But like it says in "Don't think twice, it's all right," "I gave him my heart, but he wanted my soul." But I didn't want him that bad.

Michele's headaches

Michele Bachmann suffers from migraine headache, sometimes very severe ones. She's now being hounded by the press, who follow her asking if she ever missed a floor vote due to a migraine, and other "vital" questions. Commentators comment that she might, if elected president, be incapacitated at times. There's a media frenzy building among folks who obviously do NOT suffer migraines and know nothing about them or their treatment. And her fitness for the presidency is being called into question because of these headaches.

I am no fan of Michele Bachmann. I don't think she and I could disagree more, but I think this attack based on her migraines is disgusting. She's in good company. There are stories that Abraham Lincoln suffered from these cursed spells on top of his depression. I don't doubt it. Other distinguished sufferers include Presidents Woodrow Wilson and Thomas Jefferson. Yet all three of these MEN did their jobs despite their headaches, and I am sure Bachmann does, too. She joins Alfred Nobel, Sigmund Freud, George Eliot, Alexander Graham Bell, George Bernard Shaw, and scores and scores of other high functioning, high achievers who did what they did despite that hemi-cranium pain that we've come to call migraine. And she joins me.

Attack Michele Bachmann on her voting record, on her speeches, on her positions, on her ideology. Do not stoop to attack by saying she might be incapacitated at times, that she is not physically fit for the presidency. I rarely hear these kinds of things said of male migraine sufferers. If John F. Kennedy's health did not keep him from doing his job, then migraines wouldn't stop Michele Bachmann.

I strongly dislike Michele Bachmann and disagree with her on almost everything. But I will fight her on the issues, on her ideology, not on her headaches. I know how she suffers. On that, I feel compassion.

Black Bugs

I had driven at least fifteen miles toward home in silence before I realized there was no music. On the way to the nursing home to see my dad yesterday morning, I had played one of my hand-mixed CDs. There was Percy Sledge, Otis Redding, Marvin Gaye, the Hollies, the Mamas and the Papas, all of them singing songs from my late teens and early twenties. Now that I noticed it as I drove home to Greensboro, the silence was uncomfortable, oppressive. So I turned on the CD player: James Taylor sang "Carolina in my mind," and then the late but beautiful Minnie Ripperton began to sing "Loving you." I had to turn it off and finish the trip home in silence. I've made this trip almost 14 times in the last 2 weeks, but I never needed the quiet until yesterday.

Two weeks ago today, I received a call from the assisted living center where my dad, who will be 87 in September, lives. They told me that he had been sent to the hospital Emergency Room after taking a bad fall. I called Van, my cousin, Dad's nephew, who went straight to the hospital. By the time I got there, they had decided to admit Dad. He didn't look like a man who had fallen. He looked like a man who had been bludgeoned violently by a madman. There were cuts, scrapes, scratches, and bruises all over him, and he was completely disoriented. He has dementia anyway, but he was totally out of it that day.

Dad spent four days in the hospital and then was discharged to a skilled nursing home. Highgrove, the assisted living center, will hold his room for a total of 30 days. So for a while he can go to Avante for rehabilitation, which he desperately needed, for he couldn't even sit up on his own. He seemed to me months from being able to get in and out of bed on his own or taking himself to the bathroom. And he was totally incontinent. He was as weak as a spaghetti noodle. At Avante he will have physical therapy every day. They will try to build his strength back.

Avante is just across the street and down the block from the hospital, so I walked over to do the paperwork. There was more paperwork than in my last mortgage. But I met the admissions director, who was very kind to me, and the social worker, who took me to her office so that she could learn a bit about Dad. She, too, was kind and gentle with me, a nervous daughter. When I first turned from the public areas to walk with her down the hallway past the rooms of residents and patients, my first vision took my breath away. There down both sides of the hall, all the way down the left, all the way down the right, were black faux-leather wheelchairs, each with a resident sitting in it. A few residents were trying to make their way up or down the hall, but most of the others were just sitting there. Many were resting their heads on their chests; some had their eyes closed and their mouths open. From the opening at the head of the hall, where I got my first glimpse, the black chairs looked like big black bugs crawling along the baseboard. It was to me a most distressing sight.

The next day, my father was transferred by ambulance from the hospital to the nursing home. I had gotten seven days' of clothing from Highgrove, and I had bought him some new socks and underwear, and new trousers in a much smaller size. He has lost so much weight, his pants were just barely hanging on him. And a new, smaller belt. He was okay for shirts, shoes, pajamas, robe. I tried so hard to think of everything he'd need and to move it from Highgrove to Avante or to buy it new. They placed Dad in a bed in a room he shares with a much younger gentleman. They brought his meals to his room and he ate on the over-the-bed tray for a few days. And he wore pajamas for one day.

Then came Day Two. When I arrived, I walked through the lobby as always, seeing the nice and friendly people, making my way to the wards. I turned onto B, which is Dad's. And there he was. In a black bug. I'm so sorry to have to say that my first emotion was grief that my Dad was one of the ones out there in the hall just sitting in a wheelchair doing nothing. It was only my second thought to be happy that he had been given a good bath and a shave and dressed in street clothes. All I could see was how skinny he is, and the black bug. My heart broke. But I was able to shift my consciousness to focus on his gains. He was sitting up; he was dressed, even though he was having to wear Depends. But think about it. His life is out of his own hands now. Someone else wakes him up, picks out the day's clothing, helps him bathe and dress. The home serves the breakfast that it serves. Then he is told he cannot lie down but must sit up. Someone else decides when he goes to lunch, to bed, everything. The only decision he gets to make all day is what he's going to think about as he sits in his black bug.

I took him for a walk, pushing his wheelchair everywhere we could go. Finally we went back to his room. He was always begging to go back to bed, but his nurse would tell him NO. She said he had to sit up a while to get stronger. If he just lay in bed, he'd never get stronger, never get to go back to Highgrove, where he had a private room and his own furniture and was teacher's pet. It shocked me when he told me he couldn't remember Highgrove, so the next morning I called Tammy, the administrator there, and she offered to go visit him at Avante, to cheer him up, to jog his memory, and to motivate him.

He was giving up. The fight was going out of him. He was still taking his meals in bed. Each day his eyes were red and swollen from crying, and he begged anyone who came to see him to please take him with them when they left. He asked me, "Why can't I just go live with you til I die?" I tried to explain that my bedrooms are upstairs and he can't even walk to the bathroom, much less up a flight of stairs. I didn't remind him that he bought his long-term-care insurance so that I would never have to "take care of" him. I didn't remind him that I have a mother, too. Those of you who read my post about my shaky relationship with my dad, about his abuse of my mother and me, will understand that I cannot wipe and bathe this man. My mind, which is bent, would break. If you'd like to read that post, you can find it at http://measuredcoffeespoons.blogspot.com/2011/02/have-you-got-any-news.html.

I saw him again yesterday. I go as frequently as I can. Yesterday I gussied up in white cropped pants, a red silk shell, and a matching red long-sleeved blouse (it was a cool day). And my red wedge sandals. I wore all this red because I wanted to cheer Dad up and I wanted to play up the beautiful new earrings that Carol gave me when we went for our Buddhist chanting meeting last Tuesday night. They are red and silver. The silver part is a butterfly. I had told Carol how much I liked her butterfly earrings. I told her that when my precious German Shepherd Bo, the D.C. police dog flunk-out, died, my mother and I decided to make butterflies the symbol of Bo and his spirit. So I think of him, he who had made it through all the obedience parts of training and was the best dog I ever had, I think of him whenever I see a butterfly. Carol remembered all this. She has a friend who makes jewelry, and she had these made for me, and I wore the red and silver butterfly earrings yesterday.

Dad and I visited in his room for quite a while, talking. His eyes were no longer red and swollen. He's beginning to accept being there. For a nursing home, Avante is a wonderful place, but by definition, nursing homes are depressing to me and to him. When I was young, just out of college and working at my first job, I lived next door to an older gentleman, Mr. Foxe, who visited his elderly mother in a nursing home every Sunday afternoon. His kitchen window faced my living room windows. Every Sunday night, I would see Mr. Foxe standing in his kitchen drinking shots. Now I understand.

When it was almost time for Dad to go to the dining room for lunch - Yay! They don't bring him a tray anymore! - I left to spend some time with my 86-year-old mom. The two of them have been divorced for 40 years. I'm their only child. This ain't easy.

I went to Mom's house and convinced her to let me take her out to lunch. She finally agreed, but just so I'd get a good lunch. She didn't feel she was dressed up enough, and she didn't feel like changing, so she just decided to go to the Mayberry (yes, it's true) Restaurant just as she was. We each ordered sandwiches in this very popular, crowded, and very casual place. When once again she commented that she did not look good enough to be there, I said, "Mom, we are eating sandwiches on paper in plastic baskets. How good does one need to look in a place like this?" She laughed. Besides, she looked fine and was dressed nicely. After lunch, we headed for the grocery store and picked up some groceries for her. I wanted to get more, but she can be stubborn. We got her groceries in and put away. Then we hugged and told each other how much fun lunch had been and how much we loved each other. She stood in her open front door as I drove out of sight. My last sight of her is her waving to me as I pulled away in tears.

It was back to the nursing home to check on Dad before heading back to Greensboro to collapse. He told me he thinks he lost his wallet at the swimming pool. He hasn't been near a pool in years. When it was time for me to go, he didn't ask me to take him with me, but he did ask to see me to my car and watch me drive away. So I pushed his wheelchair into the lobby and placed him by a front window. I pointed out my car. A nursing administrator was in the lobby, and he offered to take Dad back to his room after I left, so I could grant his wish. I drove away and could see him waving in the window, and for the second time yesterday, I broke into tears.

Dad's got a long way to go in 2 short weeks or he loses his room at Highgrove. He has to become ambulatory, and right now he is just too weak to walk. The tests the hospital did show that he did not have a stroke causing the fall. Nor did he sustain a concussion in the fall. Yet that fall accelerated his dementia significantly. At this point I don't know if he will be able to go home to Highgrove or not. I pray for this. I chant for this. And don't think I don't know how lucky my mom and I are that she is able to be so independent at her age. We are thankful for that.

And I was thankful for Kia and the Kats when I got home, got into comfortable clothes and crashed on the sofa.

This "parents in the eighties" thing is hard as hell.

I'm still here!

Well, I'm still alive. The FBI says I was a victim of a scam they so imaginatively call "The Hit Man Scam," and the local police couldn't even find out that much. Apparently, the scam started in Russia in 2006 targeting people in the Pacific Northwest, and by now it can come from anywhere and find you all over the United States. So many people in countries less rich than ours think that each individual American is rich, so we make their favorite marks. Thanks for all of you who emailed me or commented and expressed your concern.

A bigger problem is my pancreas. Test results are ambiguous. The biopsy could only obtain fluid from the cyst, no tissue, because of the difficult location of the pancreas. My doctor wants to watch and wait and repeat the test in 3 months. He has decided my pain doesn't come from the pancreas. There's no evidence of this, he just decided it. The pain is right where the tests showed the cyst to be. My MRI indicated a mucinous cystadenoma, which the Mayo clinic website says is precancerous or cancer. I'm thinking of going to another doctor for a second opinion. I know the pancreas is very hard to get to, and that is why most cancers are so advanced by the time they are found. As a result, pancreatic cancer is almost always terminal. Here's a chance to catch one early, but the guy's doing nothing. But it's still early. Thanks for asking.

I want to write soon about Mitt Romney and other topics, but for today let me just share with you this morning a photo of the Cliffs of Moher in Ireland, one of the most beautiful places on earth.

The Blue Ridge

The Blue Ridge

And when I turn homeward
My heart breaks in song,
For the high hills and mountains
Are where I belong.

"The High Hills and Mountains," a song by Jean Ritchie

Sarah Palin and Paul Revere

Statue of Paul Revere in front of the Old North Church in Boston.

I can't believe it. Sarah Palin visited Paul Revere's House and the Old North Church in Boston last week and said this:

He warned the the British that they weren't going to be taking away our arms by ringing those bells and um making sure as he's riding his horse through town to send those warning shots and bells that we were gonna be secure and we were gonna be free.

Nooooooooooooooooooooooooo! We just went through this in mid-March with Michele Bachmann, who thought the Shot Heard 'Round the World at Lexington and Concord took place in New Hampshire, not Massachusetts. I wrote a blog post based on Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's poem "Paul Revere's Ride" on March 15 to inform Michele that Paul Revere set out late on the 18th of April in 1775 when the lamps appeared in the belfry of the Old North Church in Boston. It was in the wee hours of the morning of April 19, 1775, when Revere arrived in Lexington, then Concord an hour later, warning the militias that the British were coming. It was in the battle that ensued at Lexington and Concord, Massachusetts, that the Shot Heard 'Round the world was fired. It's a great post. Click on the link below, and read it and enjoy!

Michele Bachmann and What?

And now we have Sarah Palin mangling the beginning of Paul Revere's ride. And what amazes me most about both women is that it is clear that Bachmann has no idea the Lexington and Concord have anything to do with Paul Revere's ride and it is clear that Palin has no idea that Paul Revere's ride has anything to do with Lexington and Concord. Forget the bells. That's just nuts. They should have known the link between the beginning and end of Paul Revere's ride, the link between Paul Revere and Lexington and Concord, the link between Paul Revere and the Shot Heard 'Round the World since they were nine years old. And they are considered serious contenders for Commander in Chief. Oh, God help us.

I don't have the energy to write a whole new blog post for Palin when everything I said about Bachmann on March 15 works for her, too. It's a fun post. I had a blast writing it, and I hope you will click on the link and give it a read.

Surprise! It's a Death Threat!

Yesterday afternoon at 3:34 pm, I received a death threat.

A hit man somewhere in this big world sent me an email message informing me that someone whom I call my friend wants me dead. He has already been paid to do the deed. He has already investigated me and found me and is all set and ready to go. But he has the "friend" on tape. He offered me an exchange. My life and that tape for $8,000.00. I really would have thought I'd be worth more than $8,000 and was a little hurt, but it is okay because I can't afford even the $8K.

The email's provenance in very confusing. When the mail came in, it was listed as from Grace King. On the email itself it says reply to <jerryhong1@megamail.pt>. Megamail is an email service in Portugal I learned. The return path of the email is listed as <mrsking88888888888.ffffffffffffff@msn.com>. That's America. In the body of the message, I was told to reply to Alex Igos at <alexigos@megamail.pt> Portugal again. To settle any doubts I may have, Mr. Igos, the author of the message,  promised to send my name and address in his next email. He said the hit had to be performed within the next 10 days. I was instructed not to call to police and to tell no one.

The first things I did were to call the police and to post this on Facebook. A very nice and thorough officer came to my house twice yesterday afternoon and last night. He said he felt it was a scam - he called it "bull shit" - to extort money, but noted there was always a chance that I was truly in danger. Officer Mills recommended that I leave town for ten days. I have just had a biopsy done on a pancreatic cyst, I have 2 cats and a dog, I have depression...packing and actually leaving seems harder than dying.

Officer Mills filed his report and now the case is in the hands of investigators. Mills said he will now be "out of the loop." He was a nice man. I will miss him.

Late last night Mr. Alex Igos told me that he wants me to wire the money by Western Union to someone called Nzekwe Chinasa in the city of Cotonou in the Republic of Benin - another country, that makes 3, another continent, 3,  -  immediately. Otherwise he will go ahead with the hit. He says his network is all over the world and there is nowhere I can go to be safe. I emailed him back that it was 10 pm on a Friday night of a holiday weekend and there was no way I could meet his demand. I asked him to back up his promise to prove himself by showing that he knows where to find me. I asked him to send me my address.

So far, nothing.

This morning as I walked my precious dog Kia, a car pulled up beside me and stopped. The window went down. I was as calm and cool as a cucumber, but I believed with all my heart that a gun was going to appear in that window and that I would die there trying to walk my loving canine companion. But it was only a former neighbor, whose house here is for sale, coming to check on some things at the house. How nice to have friends to talk to, but I could have done without it this morning.

Now I am posting this, telling the whole world or anyone who will listen. This is a form of terrorism. The police asked so many personal questions about who might not like me that the questioning was painful. The stopping car almost stopped my heart. Maybe it is just a scam and they are hoping I will be so scared that I will wire them the money. They probably chose hundreds of Americans at random to receive their threats. Maybe they will punish me by killing me if I don't comply. I don't know. I don't recognize the world anymore, can't understand it. Maybe this is just a cruel update of the funds from Nigeria transfer scam. Watch this spot. See if I am still around in two weeks, and pray for me about that biopsy.  The doctor said it was ambiguous so he want to watch it and repeat it in 3 or 4 months.

Still no more messages from Alex Igos <alexigos@megamail.pt> in Portugal who wants his money wired to Africa. What is going on?

Oh, and the messages from Alex Igos? They were all signed William Yahman. What a jumble to make it hard to trace.

depression

abject, barren, bleak, blue, dejected, depressed, desolate, despair, desperate, despondent, destroyed, devastated, disconsolate, discouraged, dismal, dispirited, doleful, dolorous, down, downcast,  downhearted, forlorn, gloomy,  glum, grieving, grim, hopeless, joyless, lachrymose, lonely, malignant, melancholy, mirthless, miserable, mortified, mournful, sad, solitary, solitude, somber, sorrow, suffering, suicide, unhappy, wistful, woeful, wretched...

Purposeless

I bought some things at Rite Aid on Friday, and the cashier said, "Happy Mothers' Day, if you're a mother." I thanked him and thought to myself, "Of course I'm a mother. What other purpose would my life have?" The problem with this thinking is that I'm not a mother, and I don't know what purpose my life has had.

My Susan

Susan is gone.

I was an only child who never attended day care or nursery school, and so I was very attached to my mother. When the time came for me to start to school, my mom walked me there that first day and got me settled in, then turned to go home. I fell apart. I held onto her. I cried. I begged her not to leave me. I made quite a scene. Then a pretty little blonde girl in a frilly dress and white socks and black Mary Janes came and took my hand and asked me to come with her. She led me back to the desk next to hers and got me involved in whatever she was doing. This was Susan. I didn't notice when my mother left.

Susan and I were best friends from that first day of school when she reached out to me through high school, gaining emotional distance only when we gained physical distance by going to different colleges. She was an only child, too. I loved her mom and dad almost as much as I loved her. We had countless sleep-overs at each other's homes. I remember she had a turquoise princess telephone in her room, and I thought that was really something. There are so many memories, too many to write them all. I'll just write impressions.

Susan and I took up baton twirling in first grade, but somehow that didn't last. Susan had a real majorette dress and real majorette boots. When we were little, our mothers shopped together, dragging us along. Her mom made the best and most tender pot roast, and my mom made the best fried chicken. We were in the ninth grade when JFK was assassinated. I remember how impressed Susan was with Jackie Kennedy, her poise, grace, serenity, and beauty. Susan saved pictures from newspapers and magazines of Mrs. Kennedy. She made me love her, too. I spent the weekend after the funeral at Susan's, and we made a pizza. A weekend repeated countless times.

Susan and I loved the same music, Carolina Beach Music and Motown Soul. Under the Boardwalk. Up on the Roof. My Girl. We sang along into our hairbrushes as though they were microphones. We were there when the Drifters came to UNCG, and we saw Martha Reeves and the Vandellas at the Beach Club. We double-dated Bill and Butch to a concert in Greensboro where we saw Joe Tex, Major Lance, Chuck Jackson, the Impressions, and more that I can't even remember. My memory is terrible. I have blackouts because of my father's abuse. In the 60s, 45 rpm records were only 98 cents apiece, and we bought all we could, never duplicating, and traded them back and forth. Between us, we had an impressive Soul and R&B library. Albums were only $2.98, so we had quite a few of those, too. And shagging, the dance that fits the music! There were pep rallies and dances from 7:30 to 9:30 on Thursday nights at the American Legion Hut throughout the school year. John Mellencamp's "Cherry Bomb" always makes me think of these dances, where one of the bands that played was called the El Rays, made up of boys from school.

The "El Rays" was a twist on the Spanish for "the kings," and I was dating James Brown. Well, not really. His name was Bill, but he could dance and do splits and all the things that James Brown could do. He played the organ and the saxophone. I was mesmerized. Bill and I and Susan and Butch double-dated all the time. We did a lot of silly stuff, like get take-out hamburgers one night and then go climb up on the roof of the high school to eat them. We got into some mischief, too. Not telling. And lots of times we just stayed at Susan's house and played records and talked. And made pizza. One of the records we played was "Misty," and that became Bill's and my song.

Susan and I valued proper English and had a grand old time collecting examples of local violations. We used to joke about "secaturl" school, which is secretarial school, and rinching our hair, which of course is rinsing. I lived in the country on a farm where we had a party line telephone. As kids, Susan and I were terrible eavesdroppers, listening to old country ladies talk about their gall bladders and other ills. We were awful.

Susan's parents always invited me on all their family vacations as a companion for Susan. We used to go to Bugg's Island Lake in Virginia, where Susan's father taught me to water ski. But mostly we went to Ocean Drive Beach, SC. It's now called North Myrtle Beach, but it will always be O.D. to us. We would walk miles on the beach in each direction every day. Every morning I awoke to the sound of her father whistling tunes as he drank his morning coffee and read the paper. He was such a happy, cheerful man. I never saw him even frown. Early one morning, and I mean early, like 5 am, Susan and I walked several miles to the Krispy Kreme doughnut bakery and on the way back, we met two guys. They told us that Susan, the blonde, was the prettiest girl they had ever seen and that I, with my dark hair and dark eyes, was the cutest. I didn't even mind.

One year, the night before we left for the beach, Susan and I made a list of things that would disqualify a young man from our consideration. Socks with sandals. Arms hanging out the car window while driving. White zinc oxide noses.  Panama hats, which I now think are cool. Things like that. We were terrible.

Susan had a sleep-over party after the prom. Back then the prom didn't last all night. We had a wonderful time and music was at the center of it all. I remember we all cracked up when Janet introduced a record, "This is Gladys and these are the Knights and these are the Pips."

My home life was so tumultuous and traumatic, and Susan's family understood that. I had my own bedroom and bathroom at their house with a toothbrush and clothes that stayed there all the time so that I could go home from school with her any day on short notice if my family erupted. We could talk all night and never run out of things to say. But this wonderful friend and her loving parents gave me a home to come to whenever I needed it, no notice required. The value of that gift can never be calculated. Even when we didn't sleep over, we talked on the telephone into the morning many a night, whispering, trying not to get caught. We just never ran out. God sent me a family.

I went to church with Susan very frequently. I got into a bad relationship and Susan's parents arranged for me to receive counseling from their pastor. I still remember what he said about Mike, and he was right. If only I had listened.

Every Christmas season, Susan and I worked together at an upscale men's clothing store called Hooper & Moore. They did offer a few items for women, some very conservative skirts and sweaters, and of course they sold Bass Weejuns. We all had Weejuns in every color and style they made. Olive green, navy blue, brown, with and without tassels, you had to have Weejuns to shag. On our first day on the job, Mr. Moore had to break us in right, so he sent us to his competitor, Williams and Company, to ask for shelf stretchers and sky hooks to borrow. Silly us. We went and asked, not thinking it through, not realizing there were no such things as shelf stretchers and sky hooks. Everyone had a great laugh at our expense, and we laughed at ourselves.

Once there was a controversy among the girls in my peer group, and everyone was mad at me for something except Susan. She stood by me. After a few days of mulling things over, I had a change of heart, and I said to her, "I'm wrong, aren't I?" Susan replied, "Yes, Vicki, I think you are," but she would never have told me had I not realized it on my own. She stood by me.

There was egging at Halloween, the capturing of a downed - we didn't down it, honest! - stop sign. But that's the worst we ever did. We were good girls. We didn't smoke, drink, or do drugs. We were so happy and had so much fun, we didn't need to. We wanted to be cheerleaders more than life itself, and we got to be JV cheerleaders in the tenth grade. The fun, the cutting up, the AWAY games, the memories...it was the highlight of high school for each of us.

Because we were so close, we thought it would be best to go to different colleges, to make new friends and to learn to stand on our own. But we grew too far apart. Susan went society and I went hippie. Susan met her future husband the first semester of freshman year. They are still married. I was in their wedding in the early 1970s. There was an empty seat next to me at the rehearsal dinner, reserved for my estranged husband George, who did not come with me. Susan and Eddie have two beautiful daughters, one grandchild, a boy named Walker, and another on the way. Susan drove from Richmond to Arlington several days a week to help with Walker until recently. Last year she planted 500 impatiens plants in the yard of her house on Monument Avenue.

Recently, Susan's parents' home was on the market and I was shopping for a house, so I considered buying the home where I used to spend so much happy time. When I went to view the house, I was struck by the collection of very large professionally taken black and white photos her mother had placed on one living room wall. There was the fair and blonde Susan with her two blonde little girls. She was the prettiest girl I've ever seen. Those photos revealed the essence of beauty and motherhood.

Cancer has been dogging Susan for about ten or twelve years. She has faced it with the spirit and disposition of her father, always cheerful, always hopeful, always brave. And she has held it at bay until now. In the meantime, she has lost her father, and her mother has developed Alzheimer's. Susan passed away peacefully in her home surrounded by her husband and daughters on Friday, April, 22. She was only 62. I cannot bear to think that she will not see her second grandchild. My heart aches for Susan and her family. And for me. We can't make up the times we've missed. But no one could have been a better friend to me. No one could have given me better memories. From the day she took my hand the first day of school to this moment, Susan is My Susan. And she always will be.

Cutting taxes does not create jobs

Cutting taxes does not create jobs. For example:

From: Ben Horn [mailto:Ben@Horn.net]

I am sick every time I hear the Republicans say that we must lower taxes for the “job creators” (aka business owners) so they will create more jobs. It is the biggest lie of the year.

How many business owners have stood with those Republicans and promised to hire more workers if the taxes on their business profits were lowered? I have not seen any.

I have been a business owner for about 20 years and currently have about 10 employees. You can cut and cut and cut my income tax but I will not hire any more employees because of those cuts.

I hire more employees when demand for our products increases and I determine that profits will increase by adding staff. It would be stupid to hire more employees simply because my income taxes go down. Lowering my income tax just means I will have more money for me; it is not justification to add staff at my business!

The Republican stance makes no sense to me. Am I missing something?

Ben Horn
Minneapolis

The disappointment of Obama

A friend said today, 

"I voted for Obama…made the calls ..walked the walk..sent the money…Now..I can’t stand to hear his voice or look at him ..He was a stealth Reagan Republican. I pray he is challenged in the primary. We are so screwed …It is a win win for the oligarchs…With electronic voting they have all their bases covered.."

And another said:

"Why, if we hadn't elected Obama we might have had a president who refused to roll back taxes on the wealthy, who refused to establish a windfall profits tax on oil companies, who refused to investigate activities carried out by telecom companies who illegally helped the government tap our phones, and who continued to tap phones without a warrant, who would have turned his back on Miranda, who would refuse to investigate any of the Bush Admin. lies, incompetence, corruption or torture, who would support anti-democratic, murderous coup regimes in Central America, who might refuse to restore Habeas Corpus, who would have left Guantanamo open indefinitely and maintain that its inmates had no rights at all, who might have continued extraordinary rendition and torture, who might have fought to keep Dick Cheney's remarks to Plame investigators secret, who would have done nothing of substance to rein in Wall St., who would have continued to issue signing statements, who might have continued to delay investigations of CIA torture and even investigate those who protest that torture, who would have traded away the Public Option even while saying he was in favor of it, who would have expanded the war in Afghanistan, who would have opened "vast expanses" of Atlantic seaboard, Gulf of Mexico and Alaska to oil and natural gas drilling, who would have 'put politics before science' and at first minimized the BP oil spill and then might have claimed that there was practically no oil left and that "the microbes ate it!", who might have continually filed briefs in favor of large corporate polluters, who might have even been in favor of whale hunting, who might have used cluster bombs on civilians in Yemen, who might have refused to investigate Bush's political firings of US Attorneys, why we might even have a president who would appoint a bunch of right wing psychopaths to the Commission of Fiscal Responsibility and try to balance the budget on the backs of the poor and middle class while allowing Wall St. Banks, the filthy rich and military corporations to continue plundering our economy, or who might try to institute policies which would effectively shut down the Internet.

But wait…no. That's what Obama actually did do."

And another:

"I want help for the poor. Funding for programs that helps people who need it, and that group is growing every day. I want legislation to regulate big business like banks, GE, BP, pharmaceuticals and others that get away with doing pretty much what they want, then when they screw up get bailout money from government, then proceed to pay huge bonuses to their employees. I want our service people home. I want funding for education instead of education being the first on the chopping block. I want the elderly to not have to chose between food and medicine. I want the rich to pay and the Repubs to stop the BS stating they pay for jobs. They have been saying that forever, and all of our jobs have gone overseas. I want women to have the right to chose and have access to birth control. I want women to have equal pay for equal jobs. The list goes on. I thought these were things that the democratic party wanted as well. I don't see Obama standing up for these things, and this is discouraging."

And another:

"Remember when teachers, public employees, AmeriCorps, Planned Parenthood, NPR and PBS crashed the stock market, wiped out half of our 401Ks, took trillions in TARP money, spilled oil in the Gulf of Mexico, gave themselves billions in bonuses, and paid no taxes? Yeah, me neither."

And one more:

"Whatever happened to "transparency" in government?  Whatever happened to candidates keeping their campaign promises?  Whatever happened to those easily verifiable paper ballots?  Whatever happened to Congress Members and the White House actually representing the will of the MAJORITY of their constituents not just the majority of Big Business or special interest?"

I don't buy the argument that because the President, or Members of
Congress "sees things and hears things" which are unavailable to
American Citizens, we should meekly follow, support and comply.  If
that was indeed the case, then we need to reexamine transparency in
government quickly.  "Insider" excuses have gotten a lot of Countries
in a whole lot of trouble as their masses were lead to believe they
didn't' need to know why, but simply trust their leadership.  Those
countries ended up with a dictator and a fascist form of government.  I
refuse to be a "Good German" and blindly follow anyone just because
they are in a "leadership" position and "knows things" I don't know...
even President Obama who I worked for to be elected and voted for. What
a HUGE disappointment he has been."

Things look bad for Obama among progressives. It looks to us like Bush's third term. I don't understand why rabid Republicans hate Obama so much. He's the perfect Republican. He's no socialist. He's a corporatist. The election of 2012 really IS a win-win for the oligarchs. 


On April 5, The Raw Story ran a report called "President Obama's Top 5 Broken Campaign Promises" by Stephen Webster. The story points out that right now less than half the electorate want to see Obama re-elected and that disaffected liberals are multiplying rapidly. Here are the five broken promises. The comments are mine. So is disappointment number 6.


1) Health Care
Health care, you may recall, was to be paid for by the money saved by the expiration of Bush's tax cuts. which mostly benefited the wealthy anyway, and was to include a public option so that the mandate to buy health coverage wouldn't lead us all like lambs to the slaughter at the hands of for-profit BIG INSURANCE. Well, Obama let it be known through back channels early in the wrangling that the public option was negotiable. In fact, it was a bargaining chip. And he caved on extending the Bush tax cuts. He was too willing to compromise too early in the game. He gave away the store.


2) Close Guantanamo
Obama promised to close Guantanamo within his first year in office. Instead, we are still holding prisoners with no charges under indefinite detention. And now we're using Gitmo for military tribunals, showing a shocking lack of faith in our Article 3 cours. We'll be trying 9/11 suspects there in military tribunals instead of New York where the crimes occurred. And there's no end in sight for the prison.


3) Support Labor
Remember when Obama said that when unions needed his support, he'd put on comfortable shoes and walk the picket lines with them? Does he even know about Wisconsin, Michigan, Ohio, and all the other states where labor is under attack? Maybe he doesn't have any comfortable shoes.


4) Reform the Patriot Act
Obama failed to reform the Patriot Act. The act had a sunset clause, but he extended it even further in time than the Republicans asked, and he extended its reach dramatically when he declared that the president has the right to order any American citizen suspected of terrorism assassinated. No charges, no trial necessary. This statement goes way further than the executive power grabs of Bush 43.


5) End the wars
Obama promised to end the wars. Instead, he introduced a surge in Afghanistan, began bombing Pakistan, and started a new war in Libya.

6) Proper treatment of prisoners within the law
The torture and isolation of Bradley Manning, who has not been convicted of anything, is obscene. I expected such behavior from the Bush administration, but I cannot believe that this is happening under Obama. So far nothing ties Manning to Wikileaks, yet he is already being punished for something that wouldn't be a crime in the first place. And the punishment is forced nudity, solitary confinement, and so much more. Many human rights groups have judged that it equals torture.

Why don't the Republicans love him?
Oh, I forgot. He's black. Don't you just love how that drives them crazy?

And now here we are with the Republicans trying to roll back all the gains of the twentieth century. And Social Security, Medicare, Medicaid, the EPA, and PBS are fighting for their lives. And the R's don't believe in global warming, belief in which is critical for our survival, and I don't feel safe knowing Obama is there to fight for us. He'll fold. He'll cave. And you won't be able to tell him from one of them. 

That hopey changey thing would have worked out really well for us if only we had gotten it.