Thursday, November 27, 2008
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Monday, November 24, 2008
received
Two mysterious text messages of unknown origin arrived this morning. My hope is that the sender figures out why the recipient may not be replying in a timely fashion. And I am reminded, in trying to decipher their meaning (a diminutive Rosetta stone to the next generation), that I am in some ways too old for such things. I find it difficult, even within the confines of texting, to eschew the grammatically required apostrophes, and am loath to disembowel words of their lovely vowels or silent consonants. One might argue, I suppose, that they embody a certain innate poetry, a quickness of thought, of key stroke, that captures an undulating vocal linguistic style to which we are not often exposed in print. But one also might not.
Itz jess y u at da hospital bri told me
Ima hit u up when i get home do nt txt dis num ite ma 1
Itz jess y u at da hospital bri told me
Ima hit u up when i get home do nt txt dis num ite ma 1
Thursday, November 20, 2008
a shout out to my fellow whedonites
Venice Diaries, fantasizing about Our First Geek President, postulates that Obama may secretly have been joking on the campaign trail about McCain being a 'wee puppet man.'
In other geek news, a team of Columbia Libraries student employees took this year's grand prize at, yes, the one and only Pimp My Bookcart Contest
In other geek news, a team of Columbia Libraries student employees took this year's grand prize at, yes, the one and only Pimp My Bookcart Contest
loyalties
As all you loyal readers know, I tend to drink a cup of coffee of a morning. And as you also know, I've developed a bit of a camaraderie with my coffee suppliers, those sweet men who work at the various places from which I purchase said coffee.
Which is a lovely thing, and something that I truly adore about this great, seething, teeming city of mine. But it also leads to divided loyalties.
I've been going to the stand on 116th & Broadway for awhile now, though I couldn't really tell you why. I think it's because he remembers to put only one sugar in my coffee, instead of the three heaping spoonfuls that generally equals a 'regular' in this town.
But this morning I decided to go to Hamilton Deli instead, though again I couldn't really tell you why. And when I got up to the counter, my deli man glanced up, did a double-take, rubbed his eyes, looked at me again, and crowed, "Emily! Where have you been??"
Needless to say, it was with more than a little guilt that I handed over my dollar bill and a quarter before heading back up the stairs into the winter cold.
Which is a lovely thing, and something that I truly adore about this great, seething, teeming city of mine. But it also leads to divided loyalties.
I've been going to the stand on 116th & Broadway for awhile now, though I couldn't really tell you why. I think it's because he remembers to put only one sugar in my coffee, instead of the three heaping spoonfuls that generally equals a 'regular' in this town.
But this morning I decided to go to Hamilton Deli instead, though again I couldn't really tell you why. And when I got up to the counter, my deli man glanced up, did a double-take, rubbed his eyes, looked at me again, and crowed, "Emily! Where have you been??"
Needless to say, it was with more than a little guilt that I handed over my dollar bill and a quarter before heading back up the stairs into the winter cold.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
the birds and the bees, or, just one of the differences between the girls and the boys
Lauren and I were sharing an evening last Friday of lounging around my living room, eating pizza, talking, having a couple drinks. Our wide-ranging discussion jumped from marriages to gay rights to biracial presidents to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints to identity politics to felony-convicted congressmen to our desire to have or to not have children.
Suddenly she turned to me and said, "How old would it be now?"
It took me a moment to understand what she was asking, and then it took me a moment to absorb her question, to appreciate her awareness of my life and the role she's played in it. She was one of the first people I told about the pregnancy and sat with me on the lawn outside of work one afternoon, our hands curled around cups of coffee, listening patiently as I talked myself in circles about how best to proceed.
It, that boy or girl child that I chose not to have back in June of 2002, would be going on six years old now. I do not often wonder about this boy or girl child, this wholly unknown creature, and I do not regret the decision that we made. But I do wonder, sometimes, about motherhood, especially as I watch more and more of my friends starting families. I wonder what we might have been like as parents together. Not back then, which would have been a tragedy, but now, as I find myself grounded in the world in a way that was hard to imagine six years ago. I wonder because I never wanted children, from the time I was a small girl myself, until I met this man and fell in love and suddenly, shockingly, found myself wanting it all. Marriage, babies, intermingled family Christmases, an entire life I had never wanted, never even dreamed of wanting, before.
I was trying to explain some of this to Lauren, this ongoing struggle to figure out how much of what this man and I shared was mine, is mine, to bring forward into a future without him. I got tangled up in words, a blizzard of words, until finally Lauren brought me back to earth again, laughingly saying, "Well, thank God, because I deal with enough first graders at school every day!"
The next evening I was having dinner with two couples, four men who are dear to me, warm and wonderful and kind. But tension crept in when one of them, in the framework of a "You won't believe what so-and-so said!" story, told us how his grandmother had recently asked his stepmother if she had ever considered aborting her child. It was supposed to be a gotcha kind of moment (to steal another phrase from the recent media), and I suppose it was, at least to the guys around the dinner table.
But to me, it felt like a revelation, a moment of openness and connection between two grown women wondering about each other's histories and feeling close enough, intimate enough, to ask.
Suddenly she turned to me and said, "How old would it be now?"
It took me a moment to understand what she was asking, and then it took me a moment to absorb her question, to appreciate her awareness of my life and the role she's played in it. She was one of the first people I told about the pregnancy and sat with me on the lawn outside of work one afternoon, our hands curled around cups of coffee, listening patiently as I talked myself in circles about how best to proceed.
It, that boy or girl child that I chose not to have back in June of 2002, would be going on six years old now. I do not often wonder about this boy or girl child, this wholly unknown creature, and I do not regret the decision that we made. But I do wonder, sometimes, about motherhood, especially as I watch more and more of my friends starting families. I wonder what we might have been like as parents together. Not back then, which would have been a tragedy, but now, as I find myself grounded in the world in a way that was hard to imagine six years ago. I wonder because I never wanted children, from the time I was a small girl myself, until I met this man and fell in love and suddenly, shockingly, found myself wanting it all. Marriage, babies, intermingled family Christmases, an entire life I had never wanted, never even dreamed of wanting, before.
I was trying to explain some of this to Lauren, this ongoing struggle to figure out how much of what this man and I shared was mine, is mine, to bring forward into a future without him. I got tangled up in words, a blizzard of words, until finally Lauren brought me back to earth again, laughingly saying, "Well, thank God, because I deal with enough first graders at school every day!"
The next evening I was having dinner with two couples, four men who are dear to me, warm and wonderful and kind. But tension crept in when one of them, in the framework of a "You won't believe what so-and-so said!" story, told us how his grandmother had recently asked his stepmother if she had ever considered aborting her child. It was supposed to be a gotcha kind of moment (to steal another phrase from the recent media), and I suppose it was, at least to the guys around the dinner table.
But to me, it felt like a revelation, a moment of openness and connection between two grown women wondering about each other's histories and feeling close enough, intimate enough, to ask.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Monday, November 10, 2008
'human skin can be hard to live in...'
I've been pre-occupied with yet another Icelandic band lately, by the odd name of Seabear (at least odd if you're from Anacortes and are more familiar with this other Seabear).
arms
singing arc
i sing i swim
and just for good measure, a little more mum
arms
singing arc
i sing i swim
and just for good measure, a little more mum
Sunday, November 09, 2008
letters
Erica teases me on a regular basis about letters. In that I write a lot of them. And then I go to work and complain or regale her with stories about whatever politician or celebrity or newspaper article or friend or relative most recently inspired or aggravated me into writing another letter. At which point she rolls her eyes and says, "Oh, McNeil, of course you did." Chuckling good-naturedly, thank God.
John McCain's campaign, for example, received a rather irate missive earlier this fall about McCain's claims that his campaign website had proof that Obama actually wanted kindergarten children to learn about sex. (I never found it and I never heard back).
Governor Paterson received a heartfelt thank you last summer for being as supportive of gay rights as he is (generic response posted here) and a more recent plea to push through same-sex marriage rights here in New York now that California, Arkansas, Florida, and Arizona have, for the moment at least, fallen by the wayside when it comes to equality.
Last Monday almost-President-elect Barack Obama received a somewhat grumbly email in response to his less than full-throated opposition to California's Proposition 8. In an interview with MTV, Obama was brave enough to admit that he opposed the notion of amending a state constitution to remove rights from a select group of American citizens. But he also clarified that he believes marriage should be between a man and a woman and that he is in fact opposed to gay marriage. I asked why he couldn't have stopped after the first part. (I got an automated response from the Obama-Biden Transition Team on Thursday thanking me for my support. In all fairness to the team, they have the most inclusive non-discriminatory hiring policy I've ever seen. But still, this was disappointing.)
Not quite in the same vein, but I recently stumbled across a letter from one Democratic Candidate for U.S. Senate, published in the Windy City Times, and dated February 11th, 2004. It's quite a letter ("As a state Senator, I have taken on the issue of civil rights for the LGBT community as if they were my own struggle because I believe strongly that the infringement of rights for any one group eventually endangers the rights enjoyed under law by the entire population.") and I can only hope that this former senate candidate, after his January Presidential inauguration, lives up to his earlier self.
Lastly, feeling both inspired and demoralized after finally reaching the end of a long, long campaign season, I sent my 91-year-old grandmother a letter yesterday morning:
Dear Grandma,
I've been thinking about you a lot this week, in the wake of Barack Obama's election Tuesday night, but also in the wake of gay rights being so soundly defeated. It's a heartbreaking thing, that America is so ready to move forward in some ways and yet still so ready to oppress in other ways. But what I've been thinking is how very lucky Nathan and I, and all of your grandchildren, are to have had you all these years as a role model. I know that, were you in California, you would have been among the tragically small number of older people to vote against Proposition 8, to see the immorality of taking away human rights and human dignity. And so I wanted to write to you, to tell you how grateful I've always felt to have you as my grandmother, a woman so committed to common sense and simple human decency that in some ways you're a woman generations ahead of your time. I love you, Grandma Mac. Thank you for being you.
Love,
Emily
John McCain's campaign, for example, received a rather irate missive earlier this fall about McCain's claims that his campaign website had proof that Obama actually wanted kindergarten children to learn about sex. (I never found it and I never heard back).
Governor Paterson received a heartfelt thank you last summer for being as supportive of gay rights as he is (generic response posted here) and a more recent plea to push through same-sex marriage rights here in New York now that California, Arkansas, Florida, and Arizona have, for the moment at least, fallen by the wayside when it comes to equality.
Last Monday almost-President-elect Barack Obama received a somewhat grumbly email in response to his less than full-throated opposition to California's Proposition 8. In an interview with MTV, Obama was brave enough to admit that he opposed the notion of amending a state constitution to remove rights from a select group of American citizens. But he also clarified that he believes marriage should be between a man and a woman and that he is in fact opposed to gay marriage. I asked why he couldn't have stopped after the first part. (I got an automated response from the Obama-Biden Transition Team on Thursday thanking me for my support. In all fairness to the team, they have the most inclusive non-discriminatory hiring policy I've ever seen. But still, this was disappointing.)
Not quite in the same vein, but I recently stumbled across a letter from one Democratic Candidate for U.S. Senate, published in the Windy City Times, and dated February 11th, 2004. It's quite a letter ("As a state Senator, I have taken on the issue of civil rights for the LGBT community as if they were my own struggle because I believe strongly that the infringement of rights for any one group eventually endangers the rights enjoyed under law by the entire population.") and I can only hope that this former senate candidate, after his January Presidential inauguration, lives up to his earlier self.
Lastly, feeling both inspired and demoralized after finally reaching the end of a long, long campaign season, I sent my 91-year-old grandmother a letter yesterday morning:
Dear Grandma,
I've been thinking about you a lot this week, in the wake of Barack Obama's election Tuesday night, but also in the wake of gay rights being so soundly defeated. It's a heartbreaking thing, that America is so ready to move forward in some ways and yet still so ready to oppress in other ways. But what I've been thinking is how very lucky Nathan and I, and all of your grandchildren, are to have had you all these years as a role model. I know that, were you in California, you would have been among the tragically small number of older people to vote against Proposition 8, to see the immorality of taking away human rights and human dignity. And so I wanted to write to you, to tell you how grateful I've always felt to have you as my grandmother, a woman so committed to common sense and simple human decency that in some ways you're a woman generations ahead of your time. I love you, Grandma Mac. Thank you for being you.
Love,
Emily
Friday, November 07, 2008
when 'wife' just won't suffice...
"Mr. President-elect, congratulations to you. What an awesome night for you, your family and your supporters. Laura and I called to congratulate you and your good bride."
-Bush to Obama, 11.4.08
-Bush to Obama, 11.4.08
Thursday, November 06, 2008
quote of the day
I hereby order that "mandate" immediately be stricken from all the dictionaries and vocabularies of every Democrat in the country. That dirty word has no place in a democracy. That said, feel free to use
the phrase, "Wow, we kicked some ass."
-Sherman Alexie
the phrase, "Wow, we kicked some ass."
-Sherman Alexie
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
random thoughts on the election
I was very happy and lucky to be in a room full of people I love last night, with other people I love a mere phone call away, to share the joy of the day's presidential election results.
Chris and Andrew called from Harlem to report rejoicing in the streets, as evidenced by the wild shouting and laughing of thousands of Obama supporters in the back ground.
Omar, newly arrived to New York City from Puerto Rico, declared complete satisfaction with his decision to choose to vote here in New York for this historic presidential campaign, despite forfeiting his right to vote in Puerto Rico.
Other Andrew, somewhat less newly arrived to New York City from Wichita, Kansas via the United States Army, seemed thrilled to find himself surrounded for once by bleeding heart liberals (and elated bleeding heart liberals at that) on election night.
Mom, when we got through to each other on the phone, said that she'd left the living room, daring to step away from the television for a moment, only to hear Paul start shouting (which, if you know Paul, is cause for alarm). Much to her relief, it quickly became clear that this was a shout of joy.
But then there are the heartbreakers. Arizona apparently couldn't get it right two years ago, but this time around managed to adopt legislation banning same-sex marriage. Floridians and Californians*, in their open-mindedness and commitment to the notion of all people being created equal, actually voted to amend their Constitutions to take away the rights of gays to marry. Arkansas went beyond gay marriage and decided that unmarried couples (of any sort) don't have the right to adopt or foster children. (Because, you know, it's better for kids to be stuck in orphanages or abusive homes than to be placed in the care of loving, supportive families.) Alaska decided to send a convicted felon back to Washington, where he will get to cast votes in the Senate, even though Alaskan felons are not permitted to vote until after having served their time.
But on the other hand, Connecticut voters soundly rejected a plan to convene a state convention with the intention of overturning gay marriage rights there, so same-sex weddings can commence next week. South Dakota voters rejected draconian anti-abortion legislation again. And Colorado, bless its little heart, not only broke for Obama but also defeated a ballot measure redefining the legal term "person" to include all fertilized (human) eggs.
And did I mention that the Democrats won a majority in the New York State Legislature for the first time since 1964??
Oh yeah.
*Can someone explain to me how, exactly, it's fair or just for a mere straight-up majority to decide to take away a minority group's rights? Isn't it the Constitution's job to protect minorities from the tyranny of the majority? And does anyone else find it odd that the Mormon Church is so obsessed with defining marriage between a man and a woman, anyway? I mean sure, they outlawed "plural marriage" back in 1890, but only to gain statehood, and yet somehow they've got the moral highground on this one??
Chris and Andrew called from Harlem to report rejoicing in the streets, as evidenced by the wild shouting and laughing of thousands of Obama supporters in the back ground.
Omar, newly arrived to New York City from Puerto Rico, declared complete satisfaction with his decision to choose to vote here in New York for this historic presidential campaign, despite forfeiting his right to vote in Puerto Rico.
Other Andrew, somewhat less newly arrived to New York City from Wichita, Kansas via the United States Army, seemed thrilled to find himself surrounded for once by bleeding heart liberals (and elated bleeding heart liberals at that) on election night.
Mom, when we got through to each other on the phone, said that she'd left the living room, daring to step away from the television for a moment, only to hear Paul start shouting (which, if you know Paul, is cause for alarm). Much to her relief, it quickly became clear that this was a shout of joy.
But then there are the heartbreakers. Arizona apparently couldn't get it right two years ago, but this time around managed to adopt legislation banning same-sex marriage. Floridians and Californians*, in their open-mindedness and commitment to the notion of all people being created equal, actually voted to amend their Constitutions to take away the rights of gays to marry. Arkansas went beyond gay marriage and decided that unmarried couples (of any sort) don't have the right to adopt or foster children. (Because, you know, it's better for kids to be stuck in orphanages or abusive homes than to be placed in the care of loving, supportive families.) Alaska decided to send a convicted felon back to Washington, where he will get to cast votes in the Senate, even though Alaskan felons are not permitted to vote until after having served their time.
But on the other hand, Connecticut voters soundly rejected a plan to convene a state convention with the intention of overturning gay marriage rights there, so same-sex weddings can commence next week. South Dakota voters rejected draconian anti-abortion legislation again. And Colorado, bless its little heart, not only broke for Obama but also defeated a ballot measure redefining the legal term "person" to include all fertilized (human) eggs.
And did I mention that the Democrats won a majority in the New York State Legislature for the first time since 1964??
Oh yeah.
*Can someone explain to me how, exactly, it's fair or just for a mere straight-up majority to decide to take away a minority group's rights? Isn't it the Constitution's job to protect minorities from the tyranny of the majority? And does anyone else find it odd that the Mormon Church is so obsessed with defining marriage between a man and a woman, anyway? I mean sure, they outlawed "plural marriage" back in 1890, but only to gain statehood, and yet somehow they've got the moral highground on this one??
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
the coffee stand man & me, or, oh how i love this town
Him: Hello, miss! Your usual?
Me: Yes, please.
Him: Have you voted yet?
Me: Gah, I spent over an hour on line this morning!
Him: Me, I cannot vote. But can I ask... who did you vote for?
Me: Obama.
Him: You New Yorkers, you are all the same!
Me (slightly taken aback): Oh... who would you have voted for?
Him: Mr. Obama, of course!
Me: Yes, please.
Him: Have you voted yet?
Me: Gah, I spent over an hour on line this morning!
Him: Me, I cannot vote. But can I ask... who did you vote for?
Me: Obama.
Him: You New Yorkers, you are all the same!
Me (slightly taken aback): Oh... who would you have voted for?
Him: Mr. Obama, of course!
Sunday, November 02, 2008
third party politics (also quote of the day)
You probably haven't heard of the Working Families Party, a small third party outfit here in the great state of New York. I've barely heard of it, and I'm not only practically a native New Yorker, but a New Yorker with at least a passing interest in most things political.
Back in those heady days of late October 2004, family friend Bill McAllister sent out a mass email to his NY friends & cohorts asking us to vote for John Kerry on the Working Families Party ballot line. So I did. And then promptly forgot about it.
But there was an article in the Times last week that I found intriguing, so I've been doing a little research.
The WFP came into existence only ten years ago, as a kind of coalition of local labor unions and progressive community organizations here in New York City, and has slowly been growing into a force to be reckoned with. The party has not only thrown its weight behind various Democrats (Charles Schumer pulled in over 150,000 votes back in 2004 on the WFP line) and even some Republicans (State Senator Nicholas Spano won the WFP's support in 2004 due to his strong stance on increasing the state minimum wage, defeating Andrea Stewart-Cousins by about 18 votes*), but also has one of its own members, Letitia James, on the New York City Council.
The WFP is committed to progressive advocacy: fighting for universal health care; standing up for gay rights, women's rights, immigrant rights; protecting the environment; improving education; overturning the draconian Rockefeller drug laws; calling a moratorium on the death penalty.
So, in two days' time, I'll be voting for Barack Obama on the Working Families line, and I would encourage all you New Yorkers to do the same. A vote for Obama is a vote for Obama, but a a vote for Obama on the WFP line shows support for a broad range of progressive policies and practices we would all do well to applaud (and helps to keep the WFP on the ballot at all).
(For a much more eloquent, studied take on all this, take a look at Katrina Vanden Heuvel's editorial in The Nation.)
Quote of the Day:
"Yesterday, Dick Cheney came out of his undisclosed location. He said that he is, and I quote, 'Delighted to support John McCain.' He's delighted. You've never seen Dick Cheney delighted before. But he is. That's kind of hard to picture."
(Barack Obama, I can only imagine, delightedly)
*Oddly enough, Spano was defeated in 2006 by Andrea Stewart-Cousins, who had the backing of Act Now NY, my friend Andrew's political action group. Unfortunately for Spano, in the cut-throat world that is politics, he had not only not won the support of Act Now NY, but had also lost the support of the WFP -- not because he "had stopped being a loyal ally" but rather because he was "no longer viewed as an effective one."* And so it goes. Poor bastard.
Back in those heady days of late October 2004, family friend Bill McAllister sent out a mass email to his NY friends & cohorts asking us to vote for John Kerry on the Working Families Party ballot line. So I did. And then promptly forgot about it.
But there was an article in the Times last week that I found intriguing, so I've been doing a little research.
The WFP came into existence only ten years ago, as a kind of coalition of local labor unions and progressive community organizations here in New York City, and has slowly been growing into a force to be reckoned with. The party has not only thrown its weight behind various Democrats (Charles Schumer pulled in over 150,000 votes back in 2004 on the WFP line) and even some Republicans (State Senator Nicholas Spano won the WFP's support in 2004 due to his strong stance on increasing the state minimum wage, defeating Andrea Stewart-Cousins by about 18 votes*), but also has one of its own members, Letitia James, on the New York City Council.
The WFP is committed to progressive advocacy: fighting for universal health care; standing up for gay rights, women's rights, immigrant rights; protecting the environment; improving education; overturning the draconian Rockefeller drug laws; calling a moratorium on the death penalty.
So, in two days' time, I'll be voting for Barack Obama on the Working Families line, and I would encourage all you New Yorkers to do the same. A vote for Obama is a vote for Obama, but a a vote for Obama on the WFP line shows support for a broad range of progressive policies and practices we would all do well to applaud (and helps to keep the WFP on the ballot at all).
(For a much more eloquent, studied take on all this, take a look at Katrina Vanden Heuvel's editorial in The Nation.)
Quote of the Day:
"Yesterday, Dick Cheney came out of his undisclosed location. He said that he is, and I quote, 'Delighted to support John McCain.' He's delighted. You've never seen Dick Cheney delighted before. But he is. That's kind of hard to picture."
(Barack Obama, I can only imagine, delightedly)
*Oddly enough, Spano was defeated in 2006 by Andrea Stewart-Cousins, who had the backing of Act Now NY, my friend Andrew's political action group. Unfortunately for Spano, in the cut-throat world that is politics, he had not only not won the support of Act Now NY, but had also lost the support of the WFP -- not because he "had stopped being a loyal ally" but rather because he was "no longer viewed as an effective one."* And so it goes. Poor bastard.
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