In a quick backward glance I am driving my Mustang on the Nimitz Freeway near Hayward California . I'm on my way to my first teaching assignment, barely older than my students, and I am singing along with Dionne Warwick: while combing my hair now, and wond'ring what dress to wear now, I say a little prayer for you....
To me the song is about Vietnam. I don't have a boyfriend or husband fighting there but I keep the boys in my heart; they are my friends, my classmates, my contemporaries. I want them to come home. They do not belong in this war they cannot - and perhaps should not - win.
I can't see ahead and so I don't know the violence, the losses, the tragedies that await us in 1968. We have already been unspeakably changed by the assassination four years before. We Baby Boomers, who for the most part lived a golden, sheltered life in the fifties with Howdy Doody on the tiny TV screen and doting parents who rented cotton candy machines on Halloween and took us to a fledgling Disneyland...we now knew that bad things can happen, that terrible events can transform us, but in 1967 we don't yet know that the ripples from that poisoned pebble will expand throughout our lives and muddy the waters decades later. It is not an easy fix. There is no closure for this kind of wound.
I say a little prayer for you.
Today, I say one for Barack Obama and all of our candidates. I say one every morning. Because I know bad things can happen, and I know hateful people always live among us. And I am disturbed by the language I am hearing in the McCain campaign. The tenor of the talk has become feverish and infused with meanness. I am worried, I am frightened by it.
I am waiting for John McCain to step up and ask his followers to stop it.
Because John McCain knows bad things can happen. He has lived through them. He remembers.
Sarah Palin does not. Sarah Palin is proud of being in the second grade when Joe Biden was already in Congress. Sarah Palin thinks youth and ignorance are prizes to be worn like beauty contest sashes.
Sarah Palin was not yet born when a shot from a rifle rang through the Dallas morning and cut down a young president. She cannot know the great grief that never quite heals. The place in the heart that one carries in silence. The assassination of a president, regardless of one's political leanings, is something that hurts and in many cases hardens. The death of John Kennedy robbed a generation of its youth and much of its idealism.
Sarah Palin was four years old when Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy were gunned down. She cannot understand. There was anger in the land, an unpopular war and an ineffective, hated president in the White House. There was indecision, worry, and strong words among the people.
Some politicians used the fear in the land to advance their own causes. Anger was condoned, racial slurs and half truths abounded. Rumors spread rapidly, even without our instant internet communication. Violence marred a political convention and blood ran in the streets.
And today, in an atmosphere of strife, economic disaster and an unpopular war, the most disliked president in our history sits helplessly on the sidelines while another campaign draws to its conclusion. And out of desperation, out of a sense that they must win at any cost, again the comments are being made.
They are reckless comments. They use a candidate's middle name because it conjures a hated dictator. They imply that a candidate "pals around with terrorists." They suggest that he is dangerous. They cast doubts. They play on fear and pander to the worst in their supporters.
I ask John McCain to stop. I ask him to tutor and rein in his young vice presidential nominee.
She thinks that whatever she says, she can say freely and without consequence. She does not know the horror of the consequences and I pray she never learns.
She does not know that her words can reap the whirlwind.
I remind my fellow Boomers to tell the story. Share the pain and the lesson with a new generation, who only read of John Kennedy in dusty history books. Who don't remember Robert Kennedy's campaign born of sorrow, or Martin Luther King's devotion to his cause.
Tell the story you carry in your heart. Quiet the noise, take a deep breath, step back.
Both campaigns : have respect for one another. Our country cannot bear another tragic loss. Keep all of our candidates safe, let them fulfill their destinies whatever those may be. Let them sail these treacherous waters with all of us as ballast. Let all participants in the political wars show responsibility and restraint.
I say a little prayer.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
GET A LIFE
I went over to the local Wal Mart the other day to get a life.
Everyone keeps saying “Get a life” these days. They tell each other to get a life on TV, in movies, in commercials, and especially when they are disgusted with each other. So I figured, I would just go on over and get myself one.
The thing was, WalMart actually had several different lives for sale over on the Notions Aisle.
At the very front of the aisle I found Married Life, and just beyond it, Single Life.
They were both CDs I could easily run on my home pc, and the best part was, they had them on sale two for one. However, they warned me if I tried to run them both at the same time I might be in for some serious download problems.
So I took my two lives home, and checked them out.
I installed the Married Life first out of curiosity. Having been single for such a long time, I was naturally interested in what I had been missing.
The Married Life CD had a lot of really cool stuff on it.
It offered a very good looking opposite sex spouse of my choice (I had chosen Marriage, Traditional, not Marriage, Alternate) and I decided to name him Max, a solid name, a name with a future.
I could morph Max into any age, hair color, height or weight, but no matter what I did with him, he was always smiling, never complained, and always looked very attractive.
He dressed nice, too, kind of preppy in golf shirts and great fitting slacks with a v-neck sweater tied across his shoulders and unpretentious sunglasses. And I assumed he smelled good, although my pc doesn’t come equipped with that capability yet.
Max came equipped with an entire monologue that, in a nutshell, boiled down to the following phrases: “Yes honey, I agree, you’re certainly right. Gosh you look beautiful. Of course you don’t look fat. Can I give you a massage? I’m sorry you had a bad day. Come here and give me a smooch, you sexy thing. What do you want for dinner?”
Also in the Married, Traditional program was a bouquet of flowers of my choice from 1-800 –Flowers, a Kama Sutra book, a king size, heated water bed, two tickets to Sandal’s Couples Only Resort in the Caribbean, Max’s 401K plan (richly endowed), one 4-bedroom, 3 bath, 3800 square foot home exquisitely decorated with gourmet kitchen, two walk-in closets just for me, a private hot tub off the master bedroom, and a time-share in Aruba.
I selected the No Kids button, but I did opt for Grandkids. Hey, I could have it all without any of the aggravation. This was my life, after all. I decided I liked this Married Life a lot. Reluctantly I closed it and inserted the disk for the Single Life.
It contained a copy of “Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus,” coupons for one latte at my local Starbucks, an individual pizza from Pizza Hut and a map of all the straight singles bars within 10 miles of my house. (Remember, I chose Single, Traditional, not Single, Alternate.) It offered two potential dates, who promised they were sensitive and “authentic,” but they were both too short.
This Single Life CD didn’t impress me, so I took it back to the WalMart and complained that there seemed to be a lot more in the Married Life package.
The manager asked if I had chosen my CD from the Married- Life- Is- Better Preconceived Notions Aisle. I said I had no idea.
“Well,” said the manager, “these Get A Life programs are all set up to match your expectations. If you were divorced, say, and hated being married, you’d pick up a Single, Traditional program in the Single- Is- Better section. But you obviously think being married is great, so that’s the program you picked.”
Could I exchange my two CDs for the other two, in which single was better and married wasn’t so hot? I could.
Back home I came with my new lives, and popped in the Married CD. All it offered was a bald, tired-looking guy named Howard asking me where I had been and if I had taken out the garbage. Oh, and an appointment with a marriage counselor in my neighborhood.
But the Single CD Rom? Spectacular.
As soon as I opened it, the room was filled with upbeat Latin swing music. Dozens of incredibly good looking men, who could be adjusted to whatever specifications I desired, appeared on the screen. They all assured me that I was beautiful, desirable and interesting. They presented their credentials. All were well educated, emotionally and financially secure, and knew how to cook. I had my choice of any of them, and when I grew tired of one I could come back for my choice from an infinite variety.
When I felt tired, or irritable, or bloated, I pressed the “Not Tonight” feature and all of them disappeared from the screen. Up popped scruffy slippers, an extra large t-shirt, an old video of “Sleepless in Seattle” and a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Chunky Monkey super rich ice cream, spoon already inserted.
Single Life, Traditional, also came with standard features such as my choice of cat or dog, my choice of neighborhood, my choice of décor, my choice of the right or left side of the bed, my choice of vacation spots, and exclusive access to the TV Remote.
It also included a great group of girlfriends to hang out with, a job perfectly suited to my talents which I loved and could work late at with no apologies, and 139 pair of Manolo Blahnik shoes. Size 6, what else?
I really couldn’t make up my mind which life to get. So the other day I took both CD programs back to WalMart. They’re pretty good about refunds. I decided the life I already had was okay because, after all, it belonged to me, and I liked the idea that every day was a fresh new adventure and not pre-programmed. Que sera, sera, I told myself, and decided to stay away from the Preconceived Notions Aisle from now on.
Everyone keeps saying “Get a life” these days. They tell each other to get a life on TV, in movies, in commercials, and especially when they are disgusted with each other. So I figured, I would just go on over and get myself one.
The thing was, WalMart actually had several different lives for sale over on the Notions Aisle.
At the very front of the aisle I found Married Life, and just beyond it, Single Life.
They were both CDs I could easily run on my home pc, and the best part was, they had them on sale two for one. However, they warned me if I tried to run them both at the same time I might be in for some serious download problems.
So I took my two lives home, and checked them out.
I installed the Married Life first out of curiosity. Having been single for such a long time, I was naturally interested in what I had been missing.
The Married Life CD had a lot of really cool stuff on it.
It offered a very good looking opposite sex spouse of my choice (I had chosen Marriage, Traditional, not Marriage, Alternate) and I decided to name him Max, a solid name, a name with a future.
I could morph Max into any age, hair color, height or weight, but no matter what I did with him, he was always smiling, never complained, and always looked very attractive.
He dressed nice, too, kind of preppy in golf shirts and great fitting slacks with a v-neck sweater tied across his shoulders and unpretentious sunglasses. And I assumed he smelled good, although my pc doesn’t come equipped with that capability yet.
Max came equipped with an entire monologue that, in a nutshell, boiled down to the following phrases: “Yes honey, I agree, you’re certainly right. Gosh you look beautiful. Of course you don’t look fat. Can I give you a massage? I’m sorry you had a bad day. Come here and give me a smooch, you sexy thing. What do you want for dinner?”
Also in the Married, Traditional program was a bouquet of flowers of my choice from 1-800 –Flowers, a Kama Sutra book, a king size, heated water bed, two tickets to Sandal’s Couples Only Resort in the Caribbean, Max’s 401K plan (richly endowed), one 4-bedroom, 3 bath, 3800 square foot home exquisitely decorated with gourmet kitchen, two walk-in closets just for me, a private hot tub off the master bedroom, and a time-share in Aruba.
I selected the No Kids button, but I did opt for Grandkids. Hey, I could have it all without any of the aggravation. This was my life, after all. I decided I liked this Married Life a lot. Reluctantly I closed it and inserted the disk for the Single Life.
It contained a copy of “Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus,” coupons for one latte at my local Starbucks, an individual pizza from Pizza Hut and a map of all the straight singles bars within 10 miles of my house. (Remember, I chose Single, Traditional, not Single, Alternate.) It offered two potential dates, who promised they were sensitive and “authentic,” but they were both too short.
This Single Life CD didn’t impress me, so I took it back to the WalMart and complained that there seemed to be a lot more in the Married Life package.
The manager asked if I had chosen my CD from the Married- Life- Is- Better Preconceived Notions Aisle. I said I had no idea.
“Well,” said the manager, “these Get A Life programs are all set up to match your expectations. If you were divorced, say, and hated being married, you’d pick up a Single, Traditional program in the Single- Is- Better section. But you obviously think being married is great, so that’s the program you picked.”
Could I exchange my two CDs for the other two, in which single was better and married wasn’t so hot? I could.
Back home I came with my new lives, and popped in the Married CD. All it offered was a bald, tired-looking guy named Howard asking me where I had been and if I had taken out the garbage. Oh, and an appointment with a marriage counselor in my neighborhood.
But the Single CD Rom? Spectacular.
As soon as I opened it, the room was filled with upbeat Latin swing music. Dozens of incredibly good looking men, who could be adjusted to whatever specifications I desired, appeared on the screen. They all assured me that I was beautiful, desirable and interesting. They presented their credentials. All were well educated, emotionally and financially secure, and knew how to cook. I had my choice of any of them, and when I grew tired of one I could come back for my choice from an infinite variety.
When I felt tired, or irritable, or bloated, I pressed the “Not Tonight” feature and all of them disappeared from the screen. Up popped scruffy slippers, an extra large t-shirt, an old video of “Sleepless in Seattle” and a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Chunky Monkey super rich ice cream, spoon already inserted.
Single Life, Traditional, also came with standard features such as my choice of cat or dog, my choice of neighborhood, my choice of décor, my choice of the right or left side of the bed, my choice of vacation spots, and exclusive access to the TV Remote.
It also included a great group of girlfriends to hang out with, a job perfectly suited to my talents which I loved and could work late at with no apologies, and 139 pair of Manolo Blahnik shoes. Size 6, what else?
I really couldn’t make up my mind which life to get. So the other day I took both CD programs back to WalMart. They’re pretty good about refunds. I decided the life I already had was okay because, after all, it belonged to me, and I liked the idea that every day was a fresh new adventure and not pre-programmed. Que sera, sera, I told myself, and decided to stay away from the Preconceived Notions Aisle from now on.
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