Gone Fishing ... in a manner of speaking

Blogging will be slim this week. I am off to mingle with thousands of Quakers for a week, at the Friends General Conference annual gathering. This year it's in Wisconsin, so how could I not go? I may try to post once or twice, but I don't know.

See you next week!

Depressingly Inevitable/Inevitably Depressing

'Taco Bell High' may come to Canada

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

I despise the selling of naming rights for public facilities. The local library board did that here a few years ago when they built a new branch, amid much controversy. In a cool turn of events, a local couple bought the rights and then proceeded to name the library after the person it should have been named after in the first place! But it doesn't always work out that way.

And selling the naming rights of public schools seems particularly distasteful. (Hey ... the biggest and most successful business in my neighborhood is a porn shop. What if they bought the naming rights to my school -- The Red Letter News Elementary School. Hmmm.)

Food for Thought Regarding Biofuels

Mr. Ether and I, in figuring out ways to reduce our carbon footprint, have been discussing trading in our automobiles for one that can run on biodiesel. There is a biodiesel co-operative right down the street from our house, where they manufacture fuel from waste cooking oil. On a small scale, this seems like a viable and sustainable option.

Truthout has published an op-ed piece that tells a very different story about large-scale reliance on biofuels:

Have you ever tried to solve a problem only to discover that you made things worse in the process? This is happening right now with biofuels. We are on the road to disaster because the problem we are trying to solve has been framed inadequately. Harmful impacts from large-scale biofuel production are largely overlooked. And we aren't even addressing the right problem! The truth can be seen when we frame issues in the context of livability. (More here.)

I love the suggestion that we frame issues in the context of livability. Imagine what the world would look like if all decisions were made looking through that lens. It is a different way of articulating the Native American idea that you base decisions on how they will impact seven generations down the road.

Of course, one real answer to living sustainably when it comes to fuel consumption -- the hard one -- is to become less reliant on one's car. There are personal choices that people can make, but it also requires a societal paradigm and infrastructure shift. And the author of this piece argues that if we as Americans simply shift our fuel reliance from fossil fuels to so-called biofuels, that change in infrastructure won't happen.

Very interesting article.

When I think of Hillary Clinton ...

...and believe me, I try not to, I most often think of this Japanese cartoon called Pom Poko. Why? Well, maybe this sentence from Wikipedia will illuminate things:

It's worth noting to Western viewers that prominent testicles are an integral part of the Tanuki [raccoon] folklore, and they are shown and referred to throughout the movie, and also used frequently in their shapeshifting.

Got that? Prominent Testicles. Except in the English dubbing, they are called "pouches." They use them in the most interesting ways. If you want to see a truly strange and goofy movie, that will have you turning to your companion more than once and saying "euwwwwwww" or "Huh?", then Pom Poko is the movie for you.

And try not to think of Hillary.
(And what made me think of this, you ask? I was riding my bike and thinking about war mongering, actually. And it just took off from there.)

Farewell, Star Books

If you are one of the several (dozens? thousands? millions? oh, what the hell ...) who read my blog on a regular basis, you know that I have a special rant against big box book stores (including that virtual one, the one that shall not be mentioned, but the one that puts $$ into Rethuglican coffers and that it galls me so many Lefty blogs link to on a regular basis, and it starts with an "A" ... )

Anyway, where was I? My neighborhood was blessed with a little independently owned book store, Star Books. It had a great used book section, always had a large selection of Terry Pratchett books, and anything they didn't have in stock they could usually get within a week. I use the past tense, because I've been hearing rumors that they are going out of business. Today I biked past, and sure enough, the window has a big STORE CLOSING sign.

A lot of people I talk to don't seem to think it's any big deal. "They just didn't find their niche," is one comment I've heard. But what the hell does that mean? Isn't being a local neighborhood independently owned book store that can get anything you want a good enough "niche"? Isn't it the responsibility of the people who claim to care about such things, to support them when they're there? I think it is.

Anything that Crooks and Liars or Digby or Bob Harris or Tom Tomorrow sells through Amazon, can be purchased just as quickly and easily, usually over the phone, at your locally owned book store. Every dollar you spend is a vote. What kind of a world do you vote for?

Well, I'm grieving today.

Thanks, Mitt ...

... for giving me my joke of the summer:

Car too full? That's OK, we'll just strap the dog to the roof!

What is with these Rethugs? There was Bill Frist who bragged about doing extracurricular experiments on kitty cats in med school. And Jo-ji* of course, who blew up frogs as a boy. Dick Cheney shoots anything that moves on 4 legs ... or 2.

You know, I have thought all along that John Kerry is a big wienie ... but I had to vote for him when I heard the story about him doing CPR -- or was it mouth-to-mouth resuscitation -- on Licorice, the almost-drowned hamster. Maybe I am a PETA person at heart.

*"Jo-ji" is what I've heard Koreans call our so-called president. It's baby talk for penis.

Dennis Kucinich Is So Nice I'd Vote for Him Twice

Come the next presidential primary, I will have voted for him twice. So there.

And PETA shouldn't have a problem with him, there's a relief. Isn't he veg?

My personal belief is, I've let fear decide my vote in the general election too many times. Rethugs, Dims -- the outcome is always the same. Big money talks.

This time I'm voting with my heart. All joking about Dennis' manly characteristic aside, he stands for so much of what I believe in. Peace. Hope. Decency (in the broadest sense of the word.)

That's it. I'm voting for Dennis Kucinich. Find out more here.

(Note to Left: You have the tendency to turn on your sweethearts when things don't go your way, calling them such things as "spoilers" or "media whores". The Right just loves it when you do that. Keep that in mind as we wend our way toward 2008 and beyond.)

Oh, For Pete's Sake!

PETA blasts Michael Moore for eating meat

Had Michael Moore made a movie skewering obese people, yeah, maybe then they'd have a leg to stand on. But since Moore is the first person to admit he's not a particularly fine specimen of fitness, good eating habits, or health AND since Sicko is about the messed up, for-profit health care system we have here in the US ...

... maybe PETA would be wise to steer away from the fat insults (Why is it still OK to discriminate and denigrate on the basis of body type anyway?) and join Mr. Moore in investigating a health care system which focuses almost solely on treating preventable illnesses while giving huge rewards to Big Pharma and Insurance companies. Sure, people need to also take personal responsibility for their own habits, but that is not what this movie is about.

As always, while I share some of PETA's core beliefs, I find the way they go about things so absurd and often offensive. I believe that they often lose sight of the forest for the trees, and do a lot to discredit their own message and turn off potentially sympathetic listeners.

I'm shaking my head.

(I once witnessed a local PETA activist verbally attacking a small-time organic goat/chicken farmer at the Farmers' Market. This is a farmer who ran a CSA, as well as selling homemade goat milk soaps and raising endangered heirloom varieties of chickens. In other words, he was practicing sustainable agriculture, and she was on his case about keeping animals in servitude, etc. When she walked away, the farmer looked at me and said, "She just doesn't get it. We're part of the solution, not the problem. I had to agree.)

The Botany of Desire: A Plant's-Eye View of the World

Working my way through my stack of books, I finished this one yesterday. This book takes a close look at the way 4 ubiquitous plants -- the apple, the tulip, marijuana and the potato -- have co-evolved with humans (with our help of course) to fulfill 4 very different human desires -- sweetness, beauty, intoxication, and control.

This book was a wonder, from start to finish. You might say, "But I'm no gardener!" to which I'll say that Pollan's book has little to do with gardening and a lot to do with what it means to be human.

It is full of fascinating information, from a history of John Chapman (a.k.a. Johnny Appleseed) to the ins and outs of growing marijuana in our current era of prohibition. (I was still way back in the seventies in my knowledge of that! I confess, it made me want to experience that kind of an altered consciousness again.)

Along the way Pollan weaves in hilarious anecdotes, mystery, intrigue, and ultimately illuminates the idiocy of the so-called War on Drugs, as well as the danger that biotech giant Monsanto poses to the world's food supply and life as we know it.

Highly recommended!

Remember, if you buy this book from Amazon, I won't share my Crackerjacks with you.

Not A Lap Dog

This from Think Progress:

Bush on Blair: “I’ve heard he’s been called Bush’s poodle. He’s bigger than that."

I guess that means he's more of a standard than a toy. And definitely not French. Or is he a different breed altogether?

You be the Decider. Go to the comments section right now and tell me, what breed of dog IS Tony Blair? Remember -- it's got to be bigger than a poodle (so I guess wiener dogs are out.)

Labor Unions -- The Folks Who Brought You the Weekend

Thanks to Quaker Dave (on hiatus,) who passed this on to me:

WASHINGTON - Senate Republicans on Tuesday blocked a bill that would have allowed labor organizations to unionize workplaces without secret ballot elections. Democrats were unable to get the 60 votes needed to force consideration of the Employee Free Choice Act, ending labor's chance to win its top legislative priority from Congress. (read more)

This bill would have amended the National Labor Relations Act to establish an efficient system to enable employees to form, join, or assist labor organizations, to provide for mandatory injunctions for unfair labor practices during organizing efforts, and for other purposes. The Employee Free Choice Act would

require employers to recognize unions after being presented union cards signed by a majority of eligible workers on their payrolls. Under current labor law, a company can demand a secret ballot election supervised by the federal government after being presented the union cards.

The vote broke down along predictable Dimocrat/Rethuglican party lines, with independents Bernie Sanders and (surprise) Joe Liebermann siding with the Dims.

Unionized labor has been under direct attack in this country for the past 25 years, since the air traffic controllers' strike was broken by the Insane Anglo War Lord (that's an anagram for Ronald Wilson Reagan -- neat, huh?) One of my favorite musicians, Steve Earle (whose dad was one of those fired air traffic controllers,) likes to point out that strong labor unions are an essential part of a strong democracy. Without the one, we will not have the other.

Legislation such as this is one part of the solution, and I hope it will continue to come up again and again, as the Dimocrats promise it will. The other pieces of this puzzle involve campaign finance reform, so that legislators cannot be so easily bought by anti-labor corporate lobbyists and, perhaps more importantly, education in labor history for the younger members of the work force who seem to lack an understanding of what unions have done/can do for them.

Oh yes, and jobs.

I also want to point out, that this is one more key piece of the Democrats' agenda which would have been vetoed by the branch of government formally known as "the Executive Branch," had it reached the required 60 votes. This is why I find it specious when the Dims say that "Impeachment is off the table" because they want to "focus on furthering their agenda." Until they get more of a majority, their agenda is going nowhere. Really fast.

Time's A-Gettin' Hard

There's an old Lee Hays song that goes like this:

Time's a gettin' hard, boys, money's gettin' scarce
If times don't get no better, boys, gonna leave this place
Take my true love by the hand, lead her through the town
Sayin' good-bye to everyone, good-bye to everyone

This past weekend I ran into a friend whom I hadn't seen in a while. (The school year makes hermits of all of us.) We have kids the same age and we've socialized over the years. We exchanged pleasantries, "how are yous?" and so forth, and then she told me that their family is moving to another state at the end of the summer. I said something inane like, "Wow. That's big." She went on to tell me that her husband has been unable to find work for over a year, that they have not been able to keep up with bills, that if they stay here they will have to sell their [very modest] house ... her husband got a job in another state and so they feel they have no choice but to go.

This is a family that was pretty settled here, not upwardly mobile or transient the way many younger professionals seem to be. Their kids have grown up here. They've put down roots.

That could very well be us, if not for the fact that I have so many years invested in my school system. My husband was laid off from his job for a good quarter of the last year. He works for a high end custom remodeling company, and clients were simply not signing their contracts, deciding to postpone projects. What does it mean when people who are comfortably well off get cold feet over spending money?

This is what I see when I begin to look around my immediate circle: Two of my siblings either unemployed or under-employed. Significant teacher lay-offs in my district (that's a first in my 20 years with this district). My neighbor unable to find a job.

Granted, this is viewing the world through a very small lens, but I think it implies a much greater problem than anyone seems to be talking about. What is keeping us afloat right now, aside from the "everything's fine" mentality? Is it the flood of cheap crap from Asia? Living on credit?

The jobs are going out the window, as is so articulately described in this article.

Nearly 80 years after the Great Depression, there seems to be a tendency to almost romanticize it, and certainly a lack of awareness as to how bad it really was. I see the signs, and I am frightened and saddened for my children's future.

It's A Nonissue ...

White House spokeswoman Dana Perino said today, that Vice President Dick Cheney can bite the heads off of cute little baby kittens if he wants to.

"This is a little bit of a nonissue," Perino said at a briefing dominated by the issue. Cheney is not subject to the rules of the American Humane Society, she said, "because the president gets to decide whether or not he should be able to bite the heads off of cute little baby kittens, and he's decided that he should. So there."

Tomfoolery

If you're of a certain age (and you know what age I mean) and you grew up in the US, you probably grew up with at least an awareness of the songs of Tom Lehrer. I grew up listening to his recordings over and over (when we weren't listening to Alan Sherman, Alvin & the Chipmunks, or Dirty Ed McCurdy) ... and I'm amazed that nobody called social services on my parents! No wonder I never fit in with my peers! I could sing along with every song -- I still have the lyrics squirreled away in my brain -- and I had absolutely no idea what any of them meant. Hearts full of youth, hearts full of truth, six parts gin to one part vermouth? Huh?

Tom Lehrer was an integral part of my childhood. Therefore, when I saw that a local community theater was putting on a review of his songs, called Tomfoolery, I had to go. Lehrer was a solo performer, but the songs lent themselves extremely well to this ensemble performance. And the cast of 5 -- none of whom were even conceived in his heyday -- captured the satirical puckishness of the songs so well. And of course we owe so much to today's warmongers and neocons who continue to make songs such as "So Long Mom, I'm Off To Drop the Bomb" as fresh and timely as ever. Thanks George, Dick, Condi, and all the members of the Carlisle Group ... sniff. [Wipes tear from eye.]

What fun.

Time for a Bedtime Story

It's about that horrifying album cover pictured in the previous post. The original photo was taken on a family vacation to Sleeping Bear Dunes on Lake Michigan. The 3 kids in the rubber raft are our daughter and her two cousins, being pushed around by Mr. Ether. They were all having a good time until a big wave came; the two younger kids started crying and the picture was taken for posterity.

Mr. Ether doesn't really have an iguana head; even I draw the tolerance line somewhere. But the band -- which he later joined as its electric bass player -- thought the photo, with a little alteration, would make a good album cover. And our daughter received a credit on the album.

A few years later, my brother is living out in Salt Lake City. His (now ex-)wife works in the public library and one of her cow-orkers is a guy who believes British author David Icke's theory that malevolent reptiloid beings are taking over the Earth. This guy finds an album in the library collection: The Reptile Palace Orchestra, Iguana Iguana! The name is enough to get his hackles up, then there's that scary picture on the front, and even more alarming ... in perusing the credits he finds someone with the same last name as his cow-orker's husband! What can it all mean?

The next chance he gets, he approaches my brother with the album. He asks him, in what I imagine to be a quavering voice, if he can explain any of it. "Oh yes," my brother says. "That's the band that my brother-in-law is in, and in fact the reptile on the album cover is my brother-in-law and the little girl is my niece." The poor guy is completely freaked out. My brother reports that the guy has approached him on more occasions to ask him about it, perhaps hoping that the answer will be different. Maybe my brother will laugh and say, "Ha ha, I was only kidding. I don't know any of those people." But he doesn't (bwahahahaha)

My brother relates this story to Mr. Ether. The band thinks this is too perfect of an opportunity to pass up. They name their next album We Know You Know.

(And just so you know, the band was completely unfamiliar with David Icke when they came up with the name Reptile Palace Orchestra. The Universe works in mysterious ways.)

BTW, click on "Mr. Ether" above and then listen to his song Impeach the Moron. And if you know how I can add that to my blog, please leave me a comment telling me how. Thanks.

Wow, this explains a lot!

By now, everyone has probably read the NYT article about first born children having a higher I.Q.
What I find truly amazing is, it explains why Mr. Ether learned to play the electric bass. He may not have his brother's I.Q., but he's a damned good bass player! (And actually he's pretty smart too.)

Some studies find that both the older and younger siblings tend to describe the first-born as more disciplined, responsible, a better student. Studies suggest — and parents know from experience — that to distinguish themselves, younger siblings often develop other skills, like social charm, a good curveball, mastery of the electric bass [my italics], acting skills. (Extry, extry, read all about it!)

I'm youngest of six ... where does that leave me?

Happy Solstice!

I am loving summer! The pace of my life goes through a radical change as soon as school is out. I have been hanging out washing, walking or biking on my errands, picking cherries from our tree and pitting them on the back porch steps in the late afternoon sun, weeding the various scraggly flower beds, cleaning the basement so I can set up my sewing area again (and maybe even sew!), listening to the birds ...

It makes me sooooooo happy.

Angelic Troublemaker 3

Before Al Gore became synonymous with global warming, Barry Commoner was warning the public about the delicate condition of planet Earth. Long associated with the Center for the Biology of Natural Systems at Queens College, Dr. Commoner has for decades been agitating to restore ecological balance to the biosphere, whether by outlawing nuclear testing or spreading the practice of recycling. Time magazine once nicknamed him “the Paul Revere of the environmental movement.” (read the whole interview)

I cast my first ever vote for president for Barry Commoner in 1980.

Anyone want to buy a shovel engraved "Gen. Vang Pao Elementary School" -- cheap?

I've written a couple of times about the ongoing controversy in my city over naming a new elementary school after Gen. Vang Pao (in recognition of the large Hmong community here.) Given that he is now jailed on charges of conspiring to violently overthrow the Laotian government, the school board reconsidered and on Monday evening voted to open the whole process up again (that's the process which they didn't follow in the first place.)

It saddens me that it has been such a divisive issue between the Hmong community and the wider Madison community. Here is a quote from last evening's paper: "Americans in general have not realized how severe the sacrifices were that the Hmong made on behalf of the United States during the Vietnam war." I have to say I believe that many Hmong are missing an important point, that being that a majority of Americans came to fervently oppose the war in Vietnam and Cambodia, and the role of the CIA in fomenting that war.

It was our war in that our tax dollars paid for it, and for that reason I believe that the U.S. does owe the refugees created by our wars something. And clearly the Hmong community in the U.S. has a collective belief that promises to them in exchange for their help were made and betrayed. But I am sick of the argument that we should honor Gen. Vang Pao because he aided our CIA. The CIA typically works against the best interests of the American people, waging covert wars and committing atrocities in our name. That's who Vang Pao collaborated with (and perhaps what brought the Communists down so hard on the Hmong people.)

I also see a disconnect when it is said that Vang Pao is "like our George Washington." There is an assumption there that everyone sees George Washington as a shining hero. Sort of like, we should blindly follow that other George in Washington because "he's the president."

I'm going to go out on a limb and say that, much as many long-time U.S. citizens are ignorant of Hmong culture, history, and politics, many Hmong remain ignorant of the varied nuances of the American historical and political spectrum.

And the bottom line? No, no, no we absolutely should not be naming an elementary school -- any school -- after a war lord.

My daughter, the high school graduate, suggests that the community should choose school names from among artists, peacemakers, or people who have contributed to the local community. (Thornton Wilder is a native son who has never been honored with anything here. Gaylord Nelson, father of Earth Day, was our senator for years. Blues singer Tracy Nelson grew up here, and -- does this count? -- Otis Redding died here. "Dock of the Bay" could be the school song.)

2 political thangs

1. I got a fund raising appeal tonight from the national Democratic party. I've noticed that whenever I get these calls, my husband starts skulking around; he thinks it's funny to hear how it will go. First of all, the caller told me that she was not asking for money, and then shortly thereafter asked for my "support." Huh? I spent at least 10 minutes patiently explaining why I might give political donations to individual candidates, but not to the national party. The caller would interrupt to say, "Ma'am, I hear what you are saying, but the Democrats are the party that is working to end the war in Iraq." I gave my opinion on that (you don't end the war by giving the White House all the funding they've demanded with no time line for pulling out the troops.) Over and over I told her that I MIGHT consider making a donation when Pelosi starts talking impeachment. Wow, she was a tenacious young woman. She argued with me a long time, which is an interesting thing to do when she called asking me for money! Either she finally wore out or she got what I was saying. Probably the former.

2. A few weeks ago I wrote about going to Tammy Baldwin's listening session. Today I got a letter from Tammy. I was expecting the usual "Your opinion matters to me, bow wow woof woof ..." and there was that, but Tammy herself had filled in my first name, signed it, and written a note on the bottom: "Thank you for your strong comments on impeachment." Nice. Now what's she going to do about it? (Maybe I can give her a call and ask, now that we're pen pals.)

A Local Defiant Garden

My city has a long history of being divided between east and west side, with the state capital building being the midpoint. In short, the west side (where I grew up) is home to the University of Wisconsin campus and the gracious living that accompanies that. (There were/are some notable exceptions: there was a large and vibrant working class Italian neighborhood called The Greenbush just south of campus which was razed in a shameful fit of "urban renewal" in the early sixties.) The east side (to which I migrated as a young adult and where I still live) was largely industrial; home to Gisholt, Oscar Mayer, Rayovac and numerous smaller industries.

When I was a child growing up on the west side, the east side was a scary place to me. We drove through it only to get out of town and visit my grandparents near Milwaukee. My dad's chosen route was Williamson Street, as down and out a street as existed in Madison at the time, inhabited by down and out people and home to a bona fide motorcycle gang, the C.C. Riders led by a guy named Dick Smith.

Fast forward a few years. I was a young adult, and Williamson Street was becoming the counter culture place to live. There was a fledgling food co-op and rent was cheap. My brothers were sharing an apartment on Willy Street (as it was and still is affectionately known) and I moved over there too. The neighborhood was undergoing some transformation, and one of the leaders was none other than Mr. Dick Smith (mentioned above.)

There was an empty lot kitty-corner to my apartment house and next to Dick's house. It was purchased by the restaurant chain Taco John's, which intended to put up a fast food taco joint there, development much opposed by the neighborhood. Taco John's didn't care; they went ahead and began building on the lot. That night, in glorious Monkey Wrench Gang tradition, Dick organized his motorcycle gang buddies and they dismantled everything that had been built. Same thing the next night and the next. This went on for some time, it ended up in court, and eventually (a few years later) Taco John's donated the land to the neighborhood association for a neighborhood park.

Willy Street is still a special place. Unfortunately it is undergoing major luxury condo-ification right now, with some of the early community members leading the charge. (Money talks.) But the park is small and funky, and there is not a chain store to be found (unless you count the St. Vincent DePaul thrift shop.). Every September the park is at the heart of an annual street festival, the Willy Street Fair, and Dick Smith has been a prominent feature, dressed like a combination of Bacchus (the Roman god of wine) and the Green Man, smeared in green make-up and swathed with fruiting grape vines. Not your image of a motorcycle gang member!

This story always warms me to the cockles of my heart.

Defiant Gardens

Sometime in the last year I read a news article about some prisoners at Guantanamo who were cultivating a garden. Using spoons and saving seeds from vegetables they got in salads (and we all know they're eating like royalty) these men had managed to grow a small vegetable garden in that harsh environment. I found that story very moving. I have not heard any more about it, so I do not know whether or not that garden continues.

Then last month I read an article by Robert Fisk, entitled Our Need For Beauty in the Midst of War about the almost impossible existence of flower markets and balcony gardens in Beirut and Baghdad. In his essay Fisk noted the publication of a new book, Defiant Gardens: Making Gardens in Wartime by Kenneth L. Helphand. I was happy to find it at my local public library and have been reading it.

There is so much in this book! The author mainly covers the first half of the 20th century, including WW1 "trench gardens" (grown by soldiers who were literally in the trenches), gardens in the Jewish ghettos of Eastern Europe, gardens grown by P.O.W.s -- civilian and military -- during WW1 and 2, gardens in the Japanese-American internment camps, and then he touches briefly on today's urban gardens, reclaimed from city lots, as well as examples from the first George Bush's Gulf War.

This book is both scholarly and poignant. It is a powerful testament to the stupidity and wastefulness of war (when will we ever learn?) as well as the remarkable resilience of the human spirit. It also illustrates again (and I think about this a lot with regards to children) how connection to the natural world is a basic human (and probably animal, although God forbid we should think of ourselves as animals) need.

I believe the heads behind the military machinery in any war are aware of this, and use it as a tool to crush the spirit of their adversaries. That is why the Nazis closed public parks to Jews, even before everyone was herded into the ghettos. That is also why the Israeli military bulldozes hundred-years old Palestinian olive and lemon groves; beyond destroying a source of material sustenance it is trampling on someone's heart.

Again and again throughout the book, Helphand emphasizes that creating gardens in hostile situations is ultimately an act of resistance against oppression. It gives me chills (and makes me want to get out into my garden.)

It's Summer ...

... and that means more time for reading! We added a screened back porch to our house 2 summers ago, and it is my favorite reading place.

I just finished An Unreasonable Woman: A True Story of Shrimpers, Politicos, Polluters and the Fight For Seadrift, Texas -- Diane Wilson's account of her (largely) one person stand against the Formosa Plastic Corporation. While similar stories have been told over and over since "ecology" first became a buzzword in the early seventies, Diane's feistiness and the connections she makes between environmental movements, sustainable living (including those who make their living as commercial fishermen/women) and workers' rights are invaluable. At times it is excruciatingly frustrating; when it appears that she has lost and Formosa will be able to continue polluting her beloved bay unchecked, Diane muses

"I felt like a huge game was being played - on me, on ordinary, regular people! In this game there were ten thousand stupid rules, like dot all your i's, and send in your petition properly and timely, and file all your legal briefs with the proper and duly appointed judge, and follow the proper sequence in the Codified Federal Registers. As long as us regular, ordinary people kept busy playing the game and we believed we were doing everything right and it would make a difference and we could control our own lives and make things better and safer ... well, then the game was working!"

But she goes on to show that one person, one unreasonable woman, can make a difference. This book is an inspiration.

Other books in my (impossibly towering) stack:

Mary Rose O'Reilly, The Love of Impermanent Things
Ian McEwan, Atonement Paul Hawken, Blessed Unrest
Kenneth Helphand, Defiant Gardens: Making Gardens in Wartime
Sonia Nieto, Why We Teach
Robert Hinshaw, Living With Nature's Extremes: The Life of Gilbert Fowler White
Hugh Barbour, The Quakers
John D'Emilio, Lost Prophet: The Life and Times of Bayard Rustin
Michael Pollan, The Botany of Desire
Sy Montgomery, The Good Good Pig

I need to insert some more fiction or I will burn out. The trouble is, Terry Pratchett has spoiled me for anything else. What am I to do? Last summer I took a young adult literature course and discovered Gary Paulsen, among others. (But not Hatchet.) Maybe I'll check out what's new in YA lit. I'm (almost) always open to suggestions; however, I much prefer historical fiction to anything futuristic or post-Apocalypse.

Pomp and Circumstance 2

I am a very proud mama.

And ... I spent most of yesterday crying.

In fact ... I'm crying right now as I write this.

My mind and my heart are still in toddlerhood; the last 18 years have gone by so fast! And yet ... every one of those 380+ graduating seniors looked elated, their feet barely touching the ground. It was a pretty cool moment when they all threw their caps into the air.

Sigh. This was a week of passages. I've been on emotional overload!

The Dildo Diaries

The incomparable Molly Ivins discusses Texas penal (or is it penile?) code. Sorry if this offends you. Blame it on Blue Gal.

Ride for Climate - Bicycles in Madison

Not only is Madison a great place for biking, it is also a great place for live music! That's The Motor Primitives, Mr. Ether's newest musical venture, recorded on Sunday at The Waterfront Festival. I hope you enjoy it.

The Red Balloon

We have a tradition at my school that I just love: each Wednesday for the last month of school, a colleague of mine shows international children's films to our students. These films are usually radically different from anything most of the kids have seen before; some of them are in black & white, some of them are subtitled, one was in Portuguese with no subtitles, so the kids had to figure out what was going on.

Today's film was the 1956 French classic The Red Balloon. The kids were squirmy for the first few minutes, but then they were captivated. It really is a wonderful movie, deserving of all the accolades it has received.

I had seen it many times before. Each of my own kids went through a period of time when it was a favorite. Today, however, I saw it through a new lens, perhaps because I am reading the book Suite Francaise, which was written by a French woman in 1942 during the Nazi occupation. 1956 was not so long after the end of the war, and Paris looks pretty war-weary. The war also would explain why Pascal, the hero, lives with an elderly woman (his grandmother, presumably) as well as the large gang of ruffian street-boys who ultimately pop the red balloon.

It made me kind of sad too, because the Paris it depicted is long gone. I first visited Europe when I was 9, in 1968, and that Europe is long gone too.

Anyway, if you have not seen The Red Balloon, it is way more than just a sweet children's movie. Check it out sometime.

Reader, I Married Him.

That's it. 20 years today.
Happy Anniversary, my dear.

What did you learn in school today?

It's a good day when I can say I have learned something new. (Like the day I learned what "luminiferous ether" was ... that was a very good day.) What did I learn today? I was reading Harper's Weekly Review and learned that a "gingerist'" is someone who discriminates against people with red hair.

My principal at my last school had red hair ... but that's not why I didn't care for her. It had more to do with the fact that she was an evil life-sucking reptilian space alien who didn't know squat about running a school or teaching children. (And if you email me, I'll tell you what I really think of her.)

Impeachment: It's Not Just For Blow Jobs

Back in 2003, former Senate Intelligence Committee Chair Bob Graham (D-FL) was one of 23 thoughtful senators voting against the Iraq war resolution. There is an interview with him at Think Progress today where he talks about impeachment. It's pretty good, but I disagree with this part:

Graham added that it’s unlikely Bush would be impeached, explaining that he learned the word impeachment is an “incendiary word” that Americans shy away from. “Americans don’t like impeachment because it connotes the kind of instability that so many other countries around the world have known.”

This makes me think, once again, that these people are a) out of touch and/or b)misinformed about American citizenry. It seems that the only ones shying away from impeachment are the members of Congress who somehow see it as a political liability. I'm good and sick of these cowards explaining (often in a condescending tone) why they don't think impeachment is a viable option. Perhaps they need to go back and read the Constitution. (I'd say reread, but I wonder how many of them have read it the first time.) And if Americans don't quite understand the purpose of impeachment, wouldn't it be the job of a lawmaker to educate his/her constituents?

Pomp and Circumstance 1

This evening my youngest child graduates from elementary school. She goes to 6th grade next year. I will no longer be the mom of an elementary school child. Sniff. (But she looks ready, doesn't she?)

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes (and I don't like them!)

Speaking of Robert Redford (yes I was, at the end of my previous post) his first Sundance Theater just opened here. Anticipation of its coming put a small locally owned movie theater out of business; they saw the handwriting on the wall. Movie tickets at Sundance cost $10 plus a $3 "service charge" even when you walk up to the box office 5 minutes before the show starts because "every seat is reserved." (That may be par for the course in big cities, but it is unheard of here.) Now the hoi polloi of our fair city can enjoy independent films in a rarefied setting and congratulate themselves on how they are patrons of the arts. (Yes, I know I'm being cynical and unfair. But I'm feeling curmudgeonly.)

Sigh. I miss the old Majestic theater in downtown Madison, with its broken down seats, precariously hanging chandelier which we always sat under on the off-chance it would fall so we could sue them and never have to work again, brewers yeast to shake on your popcorn, and every night a double-feature of independently made, vintage, or art films all for a couple of bucks. That was before independent film making was big business, raking it in for the likes of Robert Redford, and there were art cinema houses in just about every college town. It was big excitement when the Majestic would publish their monthly calendar, which was stuck with magnets to many a refrigerator around the near east side of Madison.

Oh jeez, I'm turning into a codger. My 18-year old daughter, who is planning to study film production in the fall, does not believe that once upon a time her mom really loved movies. Were the movies themselves better, or just the environment?

Two Enthusiastic Thumbs Up

Since I plugged this book as a favorite, and I hadn't read it in a number of years, I thought I should probably reread it so I didn't end up with virtual egg on my blogging face.

I pulled my copy off the shelf and was surprised on opening it to rediscover that it is inscribed to me and autographed by the author (a gift from my brother in 1988.)

I finished it this morning and was struck, once again, by just how good it is. Here's a passage describing what happens when Wendall, the protagonist, has the bad fortune to be sprayed by a skunk:

Crawling from beneath the steps, he thought for sure he was going to suffocate in the stench that had been dealt him. His eyes smarted so sharply he thought he was going blind, and whatever it was that had been olfactory in his nose had been repulsed all the way to the inside top of his head where it clung by its sticky nodule feet upside down like a terrified lizard. Even the skin on his hands, as if attacked by flames, seemed to be shriveling, the skin splitting banana-like and peeling back off each finger.

Disaster was a magnet to Cornelia: she reached him quicker than she had when he'd gone hunting cobwebs in the barn with John T.'s .410.

"Oh Lord!" she shrieked. "A skunk!"

Bright deduction. Wendall removed his glasses, surprised that the plastic frames hadn't melted or at least been bubbled a little. He stood up shaking and squinted onion-sized tears out of his eyes. He pinched his nose, the nostrils of which burned witheringly, and the pinching only made the raw pain worse. He thought: If it hadn't been for the war, Fred would never have gone overseas, he himself would never have gone to Aunt Nancy, Aunt Nancy would never have sent him to Stebbinsville, he would never have met his grandfather, his grandfather would never have urged him to trap pigeons, he would never have crawled under the damn porch ...

Now I am planning to reread The Milagro Beanfield War which I recall had passages that made me laugh until my sides ached the first time I read it. (It was also made into a bad movie by Robert Redford.)

Deja Vu All Over Again

I have a strange feeling that I've read this before ...

(Sorry, I couldn't resist temptation.)

Cabinet of Curiosities

My long-time friend, photographer Lewis Koch, has just posted this interactive art installation on the web. It is beautiful and, I think, hope-inspiring. I hope you find it so as well.

I have always admired Lewis' absolute commitment to a creative life. The first time I visited his home, some 26 or so years ago, I was awestruck by an enormous bulletin board in his kitchen that was a virtual scrapbook of his adult life -- photographs, labels, postcards, a shriveled carrot ... I am fond of creating mini-museums on windowsills, the dashboard of my car, any relatively stationery flat surface, and I think I can credit Lew's bulletin board for being one inspiration.

I also love the way he combines his photography with found objects and snippets of text harvested from works both well known and obscure. At various times his work has made me laugh, made me cry, and always moved me.

(If you watch the "Duct Tape Works" video segment, and you don't blink from 5:26-5:28, you will catch a glimpse of a 14 year younger version of me, looking awkward as usual in a party situation.)

Tag, I'm "It"!

So here's a question: If Dick Cheney plays tag, does he tag himself?

I did a Dick Cheney and tagged myself for the meme at Blue Gal's site. Why? Because I wanted to, that's why. And you're either for me or you're for the terrorists.

OK, so I'm naming three favorite books that others may not have heard of:

1) Hannah Coulter by Wendell Berry; this book spoke to me. Wendell Berry has written numerous works of fiction about Port Williams, Kentucky. This one chronicles the life of Hannah Coulter, from when she is a pregnant young bride during WW2 to when she is an elderly woman. There are passages in this book that sing.

2) The Wizard of Loneliness by John Nichols (but not the journalist John Nichols that writes for The Progressive, etc. This John Nichols also wrote The Milagro Beanfield War.) This is a beautiful and funny coming-of-age story about a rather neglected, motherless boy who goes to live with relatives in Vermont when his father enlists and is shipped overseas during WW2. It was made into a dreadful movie about 15 years ago, so even if you saw the movie and hated it, please give the book a try.

3) The Summer Book by Tove Jansson; this author from Finland is best known for the children's "Moomintroll" series, which is delightful in its own right. The Summer Book is a novel about the relationship between a little girl and her grandmother one summer that they spend together in a cottage on an island in the gulf of Finland.

As always, if you order any of these books from Amazon I will never speak to you again.

Tag, everyone is "it"! What are your favorite books?

Hell, Yes!

Some time ago I blogged about a decision our school board made to name a new elementary school General Vang Pao School, in recognition of the sizable Hmong community that exists here. This was after soliciting suggestions of suitable names from the wider community on the school district website. The decision to name the school Vang Pao caused immediate negative reaction in our community, because of his alleged drug running and summary executions carried out when he was working with the CIA to fight the Communists in Laos. While those charges are serious, I don't know enough about the man or his history to damn him on those points. But I strongly object to naming a school after him simply because of his military background; one of my friends called it when he questioned why we would name a public school after a warlord.

This is not the first time this controversy has arisen here. General Vang Pao is generally revered by Hmong people and several years ago there was a proposal to name a city park after him. It was ditched when the same allegations were brought up. Unfortunately it becomes an us/them kind of debate, with mostly Hmong people pitted against mostly white people. Very divisive and ugly.

Despite all of this, the school board staunchly stood behind their decision to name the school, and even broke ground for it 2 weeks ago using shovels emblazoned with "General Vang Pao." Fast forward to the revelations this weekend that General Vang Pao has been indicted on charges of allegedly masterminding a plot to overthrow the Communist Laotian government. Imagine the backpedaling that was going on at last night's school board meeting! (I shouldn't sound so gleeful, except that the initial decision was a perfect example of certain people bending over backward not to appear racist and making a decision without ever having done any background research, and in the process creating a huge amount of turmoil and bad feelings. Dummies.)

I took particular pleasure in this delicious little passage, taken from our morning paper:

Cher Peng Her, who spoke in defense of naming the school after Vang Pao, said later that even if the charges against Vang Pao turn out to be true, Vang Pao is simply defending his own people from a Laotian government that has sanctioned the killings, rapes and persecution of Hmong.

Her said President Bush used similar rationale for overthrowing Iraqi dictator Saddam Hussein. "Should we bring charges against our president for doing exactly what Vang Pao is alleged?" Her asked. (To which I yelled out loud -- in the teachers' lounge -- "Hell, yes!")

Well, it's bound to get curiouser and curiouser. I'll keep you posted.

Peace Rally

I've been grumbling for the last week about this peace rally I attended on Memorial Day. It was organized by Veterans for Peace -- a great organization, by the way. My grumblings go something like this: "I gave in to feelings of guilt to show up for this peace rally on my one day off, and it was mind-numbingly boring with a lot of self-congratulatory speakers (the same ones who are at every peace rally) telling us how long they've been involved with the peace movement, interspersed with the one folk singer who seems to donate her time to events such as this" and so on and so forth, in the same curmudgeonly vein.

But in light of the infighting and back-biting of the Left that has been written about in the wake of Cindy Sheehan's departure from the scene, all of a sudden that kind of whining sounds trivial and mean. I appreciate that people are trying to organize events and get people out. I would like to see more young people protesting, and I think to interest the 18-30 crowd they need to get music with more youth appeal at these rallies. And maybe food. And maybe not have every speaker lecture on the full history of their organization (interesting as it may be.) And maybe door prizes. And trained dogs doing tricks.

One thing I really enjoyed (and this is really the main reason I went) was hearing my city's oldest living veteran speak. Clarence Kailin is a veteran of the Abraham Lincoln Brigade of the Spanish Civil War, and a longtime peace activist (and Communist.) I loved that he started his speech by saying, "I didn't want to come today, but my daughters dragged me out of the nursing home ..." and then made an appeal for impeachment and activism. He is a treasure to be cherished.

So I guess the question should not be, "Why can't these people get a clue and organize good peace rallies?" but "How can I help?"

Ego Strokes

One small thing I like about my town is that I frequently bump into John Nichols, author and contributor to The Nation and The Progressive. I saw him at the neighborhood grocery store on Thursday after my "chat" with Congresswoman Tammy Baldwin and was telling him about it. Yesterday I saw him again, and he told me he had gotten an email from someone who was speaking in glowing terms about the teacher who spoke out at Tammy's listening session. That made me feel good. (And then his daughter sang me a song about pollution. It included the word "poop" several times. Sigh. I miss those potty humor days ....)

Cindy Sheehan and the State of the Peace Movement

By now, so much has been written about Cindy's Memorial Day departure from being "the face of the peace movement" that it feels like old hat to be writing anything. But I wasn't blogging at full capacity for a few days and have some thoughts on it, so bear with me please.

Two summers ago, like many people, I was riveted to the story of Cindy Sheehan and Camp Casey in Crawford, Texas. I became possessed by the idea of going there, to be part of what felt like the stirrings (FINALLY!) of a sleeping giant. So, a week before school began, when I should have been setting up my classroom, I convinced a friend to come with me, and together with our two teen-aged daughters we drove the thousand or so miles to Crawford for the weekend. It was an amazing experience (helped by the fact that Joan Baez was there too) that I wish more people could have shared.

Cindy Sheehan did so much to wake up hope in people like me, people who were opposed to the war from before it began but had been absolutely marginalized by the mainstream media and the silence of those around us. She personifies the Gandhi quote "Be the change you want to see in the world." I read about every action she took, and was inspired to take action on my own. And I was deeply saddened to hear the despair in her voice last week.

Cindy's message also spoke to me on the level of being a mother who has lost a child. In the context of Cindy's loss, everything she has done makes sense to me. Having a child die is, in my mind, the most devastating and ultimately transforming of human experiences. You fall to the lowest of lows, where getting through each minute and hour of each day is a sort of triumph (except that you know you have to wake up the next day and your child -- that person who is literally a piece of you -- is still dead, and you have to do it all over again.) It takes years to integrate that loss into your life, and you are never the same. The transformation is not necessarily for the worse; my child's death was/is an almost religious experience. Yet, 13 years later for me, there are moments when the sense of bereavement brings me to my knees.

Anyway, I believe that anyone, in the face of devastating grief, seeks to make meaning of the loss. Often that is a very private journey, and I think that we who believe in peace owe Cindy a huge debt of gratitude for making her journey so very public. I also suspect that the anger which has kept her going has probably kept her from doing some essential private grief work. The thing about grief is, it is patient. It doesn't go away, but waits for you to get to it. The part of Cindy's resignation that saddened me more than anything else, was her statement that she came to the realization that Casey had died for nothing. I hope that Cindy feels the thoughts of all of us little people who are not in the public eye and don't have the public ear: I want to say that Casey's life meant everything and I am grateful that she shared him with us.

Well, I don't mean to lapse into psychobabble. The other prevailing thought I've been having is anger at those who are supposedly on my side who attacked her. (Kind of like those who have attacked Ralph Nader, Michael Moore, and others. Sheesh. What is wrong with these people???) Particularly those who applied the label, "whore." Isn't it interesting how easy it is to fall into the old misogynistic name calling when a woman gets "uppity"?

Anyway, I am here to say that the cause of peace is not dead. Every little action that any one of us does makes a difference. It isn't easy; in fact, sometimes it seems downright impossible. But we need to lift each other up, not denigrate fellow activists. We are all the faces of the peace movement.

Peace.