The Look of Things: Getting Political

Maybe it really is all about the accessories.

A couple of days ago, students from Covington Catholic school in Kentucky boarded buses and headed to Washington, DC  to participate in the March for Life.

By now, you probably know that their field trip became a big news story when media outlets reported that a student wearing a “MAGA” hat disrespected and “stared down” Native American activist Nathan Phillips.

A number of my fellow-liberal buddies posted on FB about this incident. Many were harsh in regard to the teen in the forefront, Nick Sandmann. The vitriol spewed in these threads that followed reminded me of a witch hunt.

So I did what seemed appropriate. I viewed a number of videos, over and over again, each time trying to understand the situation and to be objective. Each time, I questioned why people were condemning the student. True, some of the other students appeared to be disrespectful. Not Nick. Participating in this perfect emotional/political storm was a small but vocal group identified as the Black Hebrew Israelites who voiced their own protests toward the kids in heated, harsh language, language that I will not repeat. At one point, they verbally harassed an African American young teen from the school group, who was subsequently and vehemently defended by his peers. Meanwhile, Mr. Phillips was beating a drum in the face of Nick, who stood, smiled at times, even looking down at the drum, probably anxious as hell and not knowing how to respond. At one point, I thought he was suppressing a laugh, possibly trying to be polite. I might have had to suppress nervous laughter, too.

But here is what Nick never did: He never made a remark. He never moved toward Phillips. He never did anything that in any rational thought process can be called even close to disrespect.

The whole thing left me wondering. A lot.

Would this have happened if the MAGA hats were not present? And by “this”, I mean would the media have made an instant call to judgment and condemnation? And by “this”, I mean would people across our nation have been up in arms, calling these kids entitled rich kids (or so, so much worse)? And by “this”, I mean what if the students were promoting female rights, or at almost any other kind of rally? I ask you who have condemned the kids here to imagine that they were wearing “pussy” hats (a term I find personally offensive) instead. Seem different?

Make no assumptions about my motive. I am not, and never have been a supporter of Trump, nor his presumptuous, ridiculous “Make America Great Again” catchphrase, now undoubtedly a handsome source of income for hat makers. I am Catholic, but socially liberal.

But I call it as I see it. This kid was framed. He was framed by a media looking for a juicy partisan-fest. He was framed by people who had an agenda long before Nick and some of his less mature buddies stepped foot on the bus in Kentucky.

And he was framed by what now has become an everyone-has-an-opinion knee-jerk (emphasize jerk) ocean of social media op-ed wannabes who have forgotten the golden rule.

I have some advice for all young people: In spite of the unfortunate way adults behave, do your best to stay kind and respectful. Stay strong in the face of false accusation.

And one more thing.

At the next March for Life rally?

Lose the MAGA hat.

Breathing, reading, and other odd ideas

Hi. I’ve been thinking of ways to clear my often-cluttered head. If you’re like many people, you are trying to juggle family, friends, work, faith, dishes, laundry…and yeah, things like eating, exercise…the list goes on.

Everyone’s situation is different, but most people have moments (or more) of stress and tension each day. Here are some concrete ideas to try:

1. Stop trying to read everyone’s posts every day. (Including mine – so altruistic…moving on…) Choose a set amount of time for social media, and experiment with it. Then put the phone down, close the computer. I often skip posts in particular groups I like and save them to read in short batches, when I have 5 or 10 minutes to really enjoy them, as opposed to feeling obligated to read/comment. You get to choose the way you spend your time on social media. Here’s a question: what do you get from it? Hint: there is no right answer. My late husband Ted used to tell me “You do not have to answer the phone every time it rings.” Your time, your choice.

2. Take those now-extra few minutes to do nothing. Or something fun of a calming nature. Read, breathe, stretch, have decaf tea, look out the window, walk, and breathe again.

3. Turn off the TV when you’ve had enough. Whether it’s politics or reruns of something you could recite back, sometimes enough is enough. 

4. If you pray, try making it a simple conversation. If you have a partner, hold hands, or dance. If you have a small child, color together.

5. Move gently. I have started doing modified, simple ballet moves in the confines of my own living space. (Those of you who know me can stop snickering. I never promised to be a ballerina.) But the gentle movement really feels good for those sore muscles and adult joints. Both genders can try this. Hold onto something if you’re new at it, and please, no broken bones. G-E-N-T-L-Y does it.         

Do you have a moment?

I know you only have 3 seconds to read this. I get it. So I’ll be brief.

OK. That’s it. Thanks for reading.

Oh. One more thing.

Don’t give up.

Don’t give up working on something that’s important to you.

Don’t give up on forgiving yourself if you do not finish it. Or haven’t finished it yet.

Don’t give up on hoping for a time when we can face problems together without harsh rhetoric.

Don’t give up taking a few moments each day to sit, reflect, pray or meditate. Try just 30 seconds.

And lastly, don’t give up when things seem dire.

Breathe. Have tea. Wrap a blanket around yourself and your wishes.

♥ You are never alone.  ♥

One Minute Movie Review: Won’t You Be My Neighbor?

Run, jog, or ask your neighbor to drive you to see the engaging documentary “Won’t You Be My Neighbor?” – a nostalgic, lovely look at the formation and history of minister Fred Rogers’ influential PBS TV show for children – and grown-ups – who listened to his messages of love, connection, and tolerance in the slow-paced Land of Make-Believe, beginning in the late 1960s and continuing until 2001. I watched this new 2018 film, and laughed, cried, and ate snacks, while hearing and remembering his message that I’m special and loved just the way I am. But this time, I saw the way “Mr. Rogers” had responded to current events of the day, something that, as a young mom, I had somehow missed back then. When my oldest child was small, I saw the show as a somewhat placid, reliably clean and non-violent hour that, frankly, gave me a time to rest while very pregnant with my second child. With my 4-year-old safely next to me each late afternoon watching Mr. Rogers, I’d get a well-deserved nap. Now, I have an even greater appreciation for this beautiful, unique human being – one unafraid to teach the basic good lessons of life to our most vulnerable young people on the most popular forum of television. One can hope that the older ones heard it, too. Don’t ignore this film. You’re too special to miss out.

Writing: learning, bite by bite

I just returned from the well-loved Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop in Ohio, where I learned so many things about what I should be doing. I did not see playing Senior Bingo and watching Hallmark romances on the list. See, those things are  fun until you have to wear the figurative cone of shame, which in this case means finding that pile of very important contacts, connections, and writing tips a year from now under a pile of stuff marked “”THIS WEEK!!!!!” in bold, purple Sharpie.

I’m tired. Tired from traveling, tired from learning, tired from laughing. I had a cumulative four and a half hours sleep over a period of three days. That’s not true. It was more like five. I did lose some sleep because when I laugh so much, something inside me says I should stay up and write and watch lots of TV sitcoms so the humor area of my brain (located very, very close to the chocolate area) can pull in all the funny it can hold and not spill out.

Here’s my plan for this, based on the workshop:

Day 1: Get up early, make a to-do list that includes all things writing-related, about thirty of them, some of which should take, oh , maybe a year. Get car fixed, eat spaghetti, walk, have just one piece of chocolate (with caramel) (that’s dark chocolate) (in case you want to try this weekly plan), and read a really great novel I brought with me to EBWW but had no time to read because of that whole learning thing.

Day 2: Update my blog, wash hair, have cake for lunch, try to write, take a nap, rewrite this list to ease into re-entry (see part about brain contents disappearing.) Postpone daily exercise by a day.

Day 3: Have therapy, remember the “I can write” mantra of the conference, examine if I really want to keep writing as opposed to the equally fulfilling prospect of day trips to casinos, have lots of coffee, and WRITE. Danish pastry? Yes, please. Evening: sleepwalk.

Day 4: Look over notes from last year’s “Columnists” conference in June, put them on top of this year’s “Erma” conference pile, make soup, decide how many times one should may properly use quotation marks in a day of “writing” (to paraphrase an old TV laxative commercial and talking about prunes: “Are two enough? Six too many?”), have tea and a croissant. WRITE, for God’s sake. Update the blog that didn’t get updated two days ago because we all know it didn’t happen.

Day 5: Have pizza and a small (less than the height of a refrigerator) ice cream sundae to reward self. Because it’s the weekend. THE WEEKEND, PEOPLE! TIME OFF! After that, I will definitely get back to writing.

The New Valentine’s Me

Remember the good old days when Valentine’s Day was wonderful?

Me, neither.

Seems it’s so often filled with angst instead of love and romance.

If you’re in love, it can be a great day to celebrate your relationship by going out together and investing lots of cash on your loved one in hopes that the evening may or may not return on your investment. And by that, I mean finding out if she or he will share the chocolate with you.

If you’re not in love, or not with the one you love, there is the danger of cynicism or random feelings of wanting to punch something, and by that, I mean the Valentine’s card display at your local pharmacy. Please don’t do that, because it’s unbecoming to be on all fours cleaning up a mess of cards and muttering, “Damn those medication side effects.”

By now, I either have your attention or you are deleting pictures from your phone because your storage is full. Which brings me to my point of this Valentine’s Day message of love. See, I’m getting older, and when it turned 2018, I made a very quiet promise to myself that I would let the real me out. The unabridged version, the version you may not like. I may end up with fewer friends. But I think I will feel better about myself. To that end, and for today, I have a few words.

If you really love someone, you will never, ever send them, on “Messenger”, one of those cartoons or photos or videos that people send around at holidays and other times when they see something inspiring, which usually follows large amounts of caffeine consumption. If you love someone, you will never, ever send the video of that 5-year-old who sings like the next Beverly Sills. You won’t even send the cool one of the hands passing a glowing ball of light to each other. And you especially will not send a picture of Valentine’s roses.

Why?

Because I, like millions of people around the world, get the “Your storage is almost full” message on my phone quite regularly. And I just spent an hour deleting, one by one, a bunch of these things from Messenger to free up enough space to take my own pictures, get apps for things I need or want, and so on.

Not to be mean or ungrateful, but STOP IT. Not to be unkind, but STOP IT. Not to be bossy, but STOPPPPPP ITTTTT. For everyone’s sake, STOP IT. Also, some of them may be insidiously harmful in other ways (viruses or hacking.)

If you really, really love someone, or even might like them, you will call them, visit them, send a handwritten note (WHAT?!?!?), email, text, or message them with your own real words. Yes, real words. Like the kind we used to make up. Before pre-fab messages were born. Those really were the good old days, the days of awkwardly saying, from the heart, “I’m interested in getting to know you” or the famed “I love you.”

So please – skip the pictures that we’ve all seen a thousand times. RESIST the temptation to send that picture of a bouquet of flowers to everyone on your Messenger list.

JUST. STOP. IT.

Any questions?

PS – I love you.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Family Vacation: Be Careful Where You Step

It’s winter. You’re freezing. Grab a hot cup of tea and a cookie. Here’s a little story for you. It’s free. There’ll be time enough later to suffer the winter challenges. (Click link below for full story)

Relax. (And hurry up about it)

Seriously – just for a moment

The Thanksgiving leftovers are just about gone, converted to sandwiches and soup, innovative snacks involving biscuits and desserts, without concern for normal mealtimes or format. That’s fine with me, as it never made sense to me that we usually ascribe certain foods to set meals.

Now – we move along toward the December holidays! This year, I make my usual promise to keep things simple. I envision a simple tree with just a few plainly wrapped packages. In my fantasy, I even see them tied with string instead of the fancy colorful ribbons. The reality is I’ve already started lists for family and close friends, and my kids have already started asking me what I want.

But for today, I will keep it simple. An ice cream outing with family, maybe do some writing, maybe read the book I recently bought by a local mystery writer…and because our national attention span is something like seven seconds, I’ll keep this message simple: Enjoy what you have, share what you can, keep the simple holiday fantasies going and give in to materialism only when it feels important.

The case of being forever not young

Reposted from “Lightly Roasted” – My Generation Magazine – link below for full column)

Relax. (And hurry up about it) by Kathy Eliscu

Never a Cop When You’re Trying To Ignore Something

Burdened: A dark tale of a driver and a bird