You started it

People who can hold grudges fascinate me. I mean the "from my cold, dead hands" kind of grudge. It's ferociously perplexing to me how such (seemingly) parsimoniously spiritual beings manage to function so über-reasonably well in this world.

Quiet and cool resentment is a total fail for me. Anger comes quickly and then it's all turned over to hurt, desperation, bewilderment. . . It's hard to let go. Usually, time along with the eventual tired old redundancy (!) of insanity (doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results) moves me on.

I'm missing my dad. He was a good man. He did the very best he could, but it wasn't enough for me. I gave up (see above). And it was O.K. We had a relationship on terms he didn't exactly dictate and I didn't exactly acquiesce to, but it was the best we could do. My resentment became like a pheasant cock dashing to the ditch. It flashed pretty plumage and went away.

With his decline--full-blown cancer and alcoholic dementia; nursing home--came more pain and confusion. But it wasn't resentment I felt during his last months. It was tenderness. It was the understanding that he did the very best he could with the earthbound life he was dealt. Considering what he was dealt, he did pretty damn well. And I considered myself lucky to be a part of his history. And today, well--I'm proud to be a carrier of his cracker-ass genes, as are my children, his grandchildren. I can take what I like and leave the rest for the owls to chew and chaw on and puke up. The beauty of it all, for me, was that I ultimately did not hold a grudge. I forgave him.

I forgave him because it was the only way. Forgiveness--no matter how it happens--is the only way to peace. I regret not honoring him as I wish I could have when his spirit left his body. There were shame issues among his family members, and I wasn't strong enough to protest nor did I understand what it truly meant to have his bodily existence exit the planet.

He was a warrior whose battles were mostly fought with himself, and he doesn't fight anymore. His body lies beneath the frozen ground. He rests in peace.

We are spiritual beings. We arrive all messy and brittle, encased in our transportation for life. We walk and we talk. We scoot along. Sometimes we float! There may be times of triumph. We glow, all health and terrific smile. . . and then we do not. We stumble and fall down and we hurt others and we say stupid, completely inappropriate things.

I am moving toward being conscious of my work-in-progress-ness. In this season of darkness-into-light, I am grateful to be a walking, talking part of the spiritworld that connects us; grateful to have the chance to make mistakes, to learn from my mistakes, to change.

Appetizers for the holidays

When Kay Orr was Governor of Nebraska, her husband, Bill, produced a book called The First Gentlemen's Cookbook (Jacob North Printing Company, 1989). This book is kindly on loan to me by my husband's mother. A certain recipe caught my eye. Steak Tartare.

Okay, so my husband once told the tale of eating at a place here in this city (now defunct--the restaurant, not the city) called The Lincoln Exchange. It was in downtown Lincoln and later became Julio's (also now defunct). He ate there with a woman who became his second wife. He described the Steak Tartare as being sort of salad-like, as in served on a bed of lettuce or something. Anyway, he became violently sick soon after eating it, and one can completely understand why; here's an appetizer version (with comments), as presented in the aforementioned cookbook:

STEAK TARTARE

The only way to make this is by using good lean meat with NO fat. Credit [!!!] for the recipe goes to the chef at the Fairmont Hotel in New Orleans.

Larry Myers, President

Commercial Computer Systems

Lincoln, NE

1 lb. extra lean ground beef [you're going to fry it and drain off even the bitlets of grease, right? alas, no]

2 tsp. Grey Poupon Dijon mustard

2 tsp. capers [husband is over the moon about these; must have caught his eye when he read the dish's description on the menu. Obviously he missed the part about the RAW hamburger. But of course, he ate this in the early '80s. There probably weren't so many warning signs posted in restaurants about the dangers of eating uncharred meat]

1/4 cup chopped onion

1 tbsp. olive oil

1 tbsp. red wine vinegar

4 anchovy filets [not really???--oh no]

juice of 1/2 lemon

chopped parsley for garnish

salt and pepper

1/2 tsp. Worcestershire sauce

1 egg yolk [WHAT?]

Tabasco sauce to taste

To begin, put pepper and salt in a bowl (to your taste). Add capers, onions and anchovies and finely crush. Add lemon juice, mustard, Worcestershire sauce, egg yolk and Tabasco and mix.

Now add olive oil and wine vinegar and mix. Finally, add ground beef and toss till well blended.

Serve with melba toast or plain crackers. [Find a toilet, or a bucket, or a towel--whatever--for inevitable later use]

[These are the First Gentlemen's notes following the recipe] WDO: Larry is the kind of guy who usually is hesitant about expressing an opinion or taking a position on a particular subject [because he's sort of nauseous a lot of the time]. Some of his friends, including yours truly, have been able to draw him out [of the bathroom], and we find Larry has some pretty definite ideas on a number of subjects. Larry is in his "second" career, the first having been spent as a CPA.

Well. Let's get the party started, then! Here's hoping Larry is still alive and not a victim of Mad Cow disease or Alzheimer's. Sheesh. And, Yuck.

Metanoia

Very dismayed re our elegant President Obama's speech outlining his decision about Afghanistan. More troops, harder war effort--but preparing to begin to leave in mid-2011. Got a "message" from Vice President Biden about it; "he" wrote, "It's a clean break from the failed Afghanistan policy of the Bush administration, and a new, focused strategy that can succeed." Really.

Really?

I think the only "clean break" could have been saying good-bye to Afghanistan and welcoming home our men and women who are currently engaged there. It's the most sensible solution. Matthew P. Hoh said it best--thoughtfully, with the perspective of both a Marine and a diplomat. Surely the President has read the lowly Hoh's letter. Surely, a huge portion of him agrees that this is the most sensible solution.

Watching him deliver his speech was unnerving. I don't think the cadets meant to nod off; they probably get up at 4 a.m. and the speech may have bled over into their bedtimes! I don't think it was a cynical thing, either, for the President to use this venue to outline what he had decided. (Yep, he's the decider now. With a Nobel Peace Prize.) And I don't think that Obama regards the military as his adversary. But I do think he's overwhelmingly ambivalent about this war. And the nation he leads is ambivalent. And if we're not wholly engaged (we're not--the "timetable" says so; we're not going to build the nation of Afghanistan; it is "beyond our responsibility, our means, and our interests")--if we're not going in wholeheartedly; if we ultimately just want to get out of there, well. . . then let's get out of there. Now.

A great many of the Afghan people are, uh, semi-pastoral nomads. This means that they're not interested in a strong national government. We in the United States do not understand them, and they do not understand us.

So here's what we can do. Instead of all that money pushed into Afghanistan through military engagement, we should surge money into our own Central Intelligence Agency.

We need a new spook shop. Something super duper secret. We're talking about the deepest cover imaginable. Deepest midnight-blue-with-that-hint-of-green-as-the-sun-rises ops. Something like the Agency for International Development (which was used by the CIA during the Vietnam conflict), but sneakier. Pour treasure into it; this is our security we're talking about, right? Pakistan is where we belong because Pakistan is where the bomb lives and cannot be consumed by the Taliban. (For me, listening to Obama pronounce "Pakistan" and "Taliban" was the best part of his speech.) Make it worldwide so we can recruit as many brown, blue-eyed people who need dental work as we can. Typical CIA field officer prepsters won't work for this. (But Cofer Black could come home to run it, maybe.) Make it worldwide so we can be everywhere--especially Europe and other shady places.

I don't think these people who hate us can be snuffed out. It's like trying to control the weather. The best we can do is try to be on top of it, everywhere. And raise up the women. Provide money for that, too, instead of military might. It's worth noting that there can be no "timetable" for this surge of intelligence. It will likely have to be a forever mission. But it's got elements of genuine humanitarianism. Worthwhile. Either that or resign to get attacked again and again 9/11-style--and we don't handle that sort of panic and death so well. It's hard to picture the U.S.A. "adjusting" to frequent acts of terrorism at home the way other nations have (Israel; the steely U.K.).

I am reminded of something a wise comrade texted to me: If something unkind is said about you, live as though no one will believe it. While I was listening to the President's speech, it occurred to me that maybe what he was describing--prescribing--was, actually, a new doctrine--the part (a teeny bit JFKish) about

not seek[ing] to occupy other nations and not claim[ing] another nation's resources or target[ing] other peoples because their faith or ethnicity is different from ours. What we have fought for — and what we continue to fight for — is a better future for our children and grandchildren, and we believe that their lives will be better if other peoples' children and grandchildren can live in freedom and access opportunity.

So let's do it. We have the communications technology. Special ops can sweep in and clean up quickly and quietly--a small yet necessary part of the strategy.

Okay, I don't know what the hell I'm talking about. (getting really audacious and dare I say logorrheic here) But the President doesn't seem to, either. Afghanistan: We need to git gone.

William Stafford

ASK ME

Some time when the river is ice ask me
mistakes I have made. Ask me whether
what I have done is my life. Others
have come in their slow way into
my thought, and some have tried to help
or to hurt: ask me what difference
their strongest love or hate has made.

I will listen to what you say.
You and I can turn and look
at the silent river and wait. We know
the current is there, hidden; and there
are comings and goings from miles away
that hold the stillness exactly before us.
What the river says, that is what I say.

- William Stafford



[Thinking of Neil and hoping he's o.k.]

Where the hell am I?

It's been a bad couple of weeks. Husband's job is on shaky ground, as apparently are so many others' jobs--unemployment has climbed to 10.3 percent nationally, higher for men and single moms. But that's a subject for another time. Right now, I want to discuss What I've Learned During My Week in the Rental Car.

Yes, I had to rent a car this week courtesy of the young adult man who ran into my real car with his '85 Chrysler New Yorker. This rental car's stereo system would not permit tuning in 91.5 KIOS, which is Omaha's public radio station that offers some good news and information programming in the morning. So I was thinking about the conversation I recently had with my brother who lives in Omaha and, remembering what he said, became a bit nostalgic for Gary Saddlemeyer and thought, Ah well--why not? Turn on and tune in to good ol' KFAB 1110--the superstation of my childhood! Maybe I'd get to hear one of those amazingly hilarious traffic reports I'd heard tell about.

KFAB is now a FOX news affiliate. I don't know when this happened. The morning program is a locally-produced call-in talk show of the politically right persuasion. Whatever. I got to hear the substitute host interview a gentleman from Iowa who heads a pro-gun rights organization there. This Iowan was relating an incident in which a student was expelled somewhere in Iowa for bringing some empty plastic shotgun shell "blanks" for show-and-tell. Whatever happened to personal responsibility--to the chance to explain yourself? he asked. This is why we need more charter schools, he offered. On the day I heard this program, the Supreme Court was getting ready to hear arguments for and against sentencing juveniles to life without parole. It would have been interesting to hear his thoughts on whether or not 13-year-old rapists should be locked up forever and ever. But I had to go to class.

And then--and then, as I drove away from campus to pick up the little ones, the radio still tuned to 1110 on the AM dial, what did I find myself listening to but. . . Glenn Beck. Glenn Beck's radio program. Now, I had seen Glenn Beck on TV back when he had a program on the Headline News channel. And I had seen a video of him someone shared from You Tube in which he hollered a lot about the treatment he received during his hemorrhoid surgery. But I really had no idea about the 9/12ers. I hadn't heard about the seeds, either; or the special emergency food. Vacuumed-packed meals for. . . for what? My best buddy told me that her elderly uncle has done this for years--stockpiled food. I understand the whole Cold War thing about stocking up on canned goods (don't forget to include a can opener!); but from Glenn Beck's show, I have now learned that it is a good idea to stock up on astronaut meals produced (?) and sold by one of his show's sponsors. I didn't learn exactly why this is a good idea, but I think--I suspect--it has something to do with a "revolution." I would really like to know: Why a revolution? and, Whose revolution? I am guessing it has something to do with the "direction" this country is headed and anger about that. And who is directing this country? I am guessing Glenn Beck would say it's our President, Barack Hussein Obama.

So it's all about the President. Here is what I would like to say to Glenn Beck: This is my country, too. And it's millions of others' country as well--millions of people who exercised their right to vote in 2008. And Barack Hussein Obama won. The bigger the front, the bigger the back. Also, Mr. Beck, here's a civics lesson for you: There are three branches of government in our constitutional system. They "check and balance" each other--remember that from fifth grade?

I would also like to request, sir, that you get over it. Calm down. Don't tread on our great republic--or on me--just because a brown guy got elected President (naturally brown, not orange like that Boehner guy who leads the Republican Party in the House of Representatives). Leave the man alone. You can disagree with him; and, please, by all means do! But the stuff you say is hateful, non-factual, and racist. AH, there's the rub. . . Right? Admit it. Your ilk is unhappy that the Executive is occupied by a man who's half Black. Your prodigious incitement of your audience towards committing unspeakable acts is quite transparent and breathtaking in its recklessness. 

If you want to collect nonhybrid seeds, fine. But how about sowing a little less hysteria and fear and a little more truth?  And about this "socialism" you speak of? In case you hadn't heard: The Cold War is over. I haven't done much international travel (less than Sarah Palin, even); but I've been to France, a "socialist" democracy. It's a pleasant place. And the people there seem to be living pretty happy, fulfilling lives. Maybe their focused, kind countenances have something to do with their knowing that they won't get bankrupt if they get really sick or need emergency medical care.

re: God

To believe in God for me is to feel that there is a God, not a dead one, or a stuffed one, but a living one, who with irresistible force urges us towards more loving. --Vincent van Gogh

Sequencing

Recently I have been interviewing for placement for practicum next semester. In order to complete my degree in social work, I must complete a 480-hour internship (worth 9 hours of credit).

I haven't been pursued the job market for 10 years. When I was expecting my first child, I had a career that I loved. I visited child care centers and tried to find good in-home care providers for the baby I was carrying. Even though the caregivers at these places were probably loving and skilled people (mostly women), what I saw and felt when I visited and searched was mostly sadness. And the amount of money I would need to pay someone to presumably walk through fire, if necessary, for my child was almost all of my paycheck--and, I sadly suspected, wasn't nearly enough. (If you really want to look at a society's values, follow the money. People who care for the loved ones of others--day care and nursing home workers--are not truly and fairly compensated for their work. Motherhood isn't counted in our economy at all; women who have children often have no choice but to work outside the home, and those who are able to be with their children full-time lose precious years of nest-egg building for their contribution to the well-being of society's future. (The cynicism of the GOP's nomination of Sarah Palin for the vice-presidency shined a light on the hypocrisy of the nation's attitude towards women in general and the Republican party's in particular. But I digress.)

I know that, when interviewing for a job (and what I'm interviewing for isn't a job, but an internship), there are certain questions prospective employers aren't allowed to ask and certain information prospective employees would be wise not to offer. It's part of the whole "personal is political" issue that surrounds women's lives more than men's. Even though it's illegal to discriminate based on gender, marital status, whatever, it is a fact that working mothers are probably more likely to have to scramble when their kids are sick than working fathers. So when interviewing, you keep that information to yourself. What I am wondering is, How?

I consider the time that I've spent being with my children (and admittedly I've been more of a part-time caregiver in recent years as I've pursued my degree; I'm very blessed in that respect and don't deny that earning a bachelor's degree is of great importance to me, perhaps selfishly so. But I love to learn, and I want to set an example for my children on the value of education) to not be wasted years. I believe I've nurtured an attachment to them that will serve my family well. And, perhaps, other mothers reentering the work force have an easier time negotiating the transition; for me, undoing the mistakes of my past has been a haunting theme of my journey. My status of mother is, for me, primary.

What I've found is that I cannot pursue meaningful internship placement without expressing the place my children occupy in my life.

Gratitude and good stuff

Abraham Lincoln said something like, "Most folks are as happy as they make their minds up to be."  He would have known, what with all that was on his plate during his time.  He had more than his share of heartaches to face.  I didn't know him, but from what I have read I understand that he got up every morning anyway even though he was surrounded by adversaries and was leading a nation through a terrible and bloody war (what other kinds of wars are there? Hm. But the American Civil War was especially horrific, perhaps. . . And Lincoln was frustrated by his war leaders' unwillingness to lead, yet deeply sorrowful and acutely aware of the great loss of life). His darling 11-year-old son died--how does a president engaged in a war to save his nation grieve the loss of his child? His wife spent too much money and was crazy with grief herself. He had enemies--lots of them--and incomprehensibly huge responsibilities.

And then there's the lovely woman I spoke with at church yesterday. She, her husband, and their kids had taken charge of serving coffee, juice, and cookies to the congregation after the service. I learned that her father had recently fallen and broken his neck and was having a difficult time in rehabilitation. But there she was with her family, helping others enjoy fellowship in that sun-soaked room.

Driving my son to preschool this morning, I noticed a squirrel writhing in the street. It had been a long time since I'd seen such graphic suffering in real time. After I was careful to pass over it, straddling the wheels so as not to further squish it, I didn't know if it was the right thing to do. Should I have smashed it with my tires and put it out of its misery? Should I have stopped and phoned Animal Control?

Last night I slept with a window open and heard crickets. It's a gorgeous October day. As I stood in the yard this morning, the air felt like spring. There were birds chirping away. The colors are amazing--fall is shining and glittering with color. I have two children I am worried about (for various reasons--too much to speak about here and now). I have a messy house, and I don't know what's for dinner tonight. I have work to do--LOTS of work--for school, and field work/internship to arrange for next semester even as I struggle this semester with uncertainty about the whole bachelor's degree thing--disbelief; self-sabotage, perhaps; sloth.

But I am grateful and focusing on the good stuff; here's a short list:
1. Kids are not sick
2. I was born in the United States
3. My husband is employed and we have good health insurance through his hard work
4. My daughter goes to a great school and has wonderful teachers and good friends
5. My son goes to a great daycare and has fabulously compassionate and smart teachers who are quite fond of him
6. I actually have the opportunity and the resources to fulfill a 21-year-old dream
7. I am sober and mindful on this beautiful day--a day of brilliant October sky and warmth.

I remember and feel now the glow I felt yesterday in church while in prayer with the sunshine streaming through the windows. I hold in my heart all the wonderful people I've walked with on this path. I am as happy as I make my mind up to be.