May 6, 2008

Hugging, not kicking, My HRC supporting Friends

I’m not really sure how to make up with my Hillary Clinton supporting friends.

I got damn mad at them. They got damn mad at me.

Even when we tried to be civil, we were gritting our teeth and muttering swear words.

I accused their candidate of turning GOP. Of dirty tricks. Of lies. Of stealing delegates. Of race baiting.

They called me a cult member said my candidate was inexperienced, a dreamer, filled with talk and no substance. They called my candidate unpatriotic and went after those in his past and present.

I got angry enough to spew very hate-filled speech post South Carolina.

I’m still not sorry.

I’m pretty sure they are not either.

So now what?

Do we hug it out? Because really-that’s all I have left.

I currently have nothing nice to say about what went on between the Clinton and Obama campaigns. I can’t yet blog about uniting the Clinton and Obama voters or give the ‘let’s all just go against McCain together’ pitch.

I still want to yell and scream.  I want the former President Bill Clinton to explain himself. I want Senator Clinton to tell me why she got so damn right winged in her fear-mongering rhetoric.

I realize those answers are not coming.

I realize we have to move forward to beat John McCain.

But I have NOTHING to get us moving on this immediately.

Except hug.

Weak? Maybe.

But trust me I’ve gone through every option I can think of -it’s all I have got.

You know how you have those crazy relatives in your family you will never, EVER agree with and fight with all the time? You get SOOOOO MAD at the things they do, yet…they are family. And somehow you hug and move on.

I’m hugging my HRC supporting friends because I don’t know what else to do.

And I really don’t want to kick them.

Or do I?

I do. I still want to kick them.

But I won’t.

Free hugs.

Who wants one?

May 5, 2008

Needling

I don’t know too many kids who like getting shots. I don’t know too many adults who like getting shots. So when the time comes to pack up the van and take the kids to their 3 and 5-year old check-up, I am filled with anxiety and they are blissfully ignorant as to what is about to happen.

Sneak attack.

Sometimes it just has to be done.

For the greater good, it was better for everyone the children did not know, until moments before getting stuck, that needles were coming.

I rarely use the sneak attack move. In extreme cases ONLY would I ever advocate the sneak attack move.

However sometimes it MUST be done.

Senator Barack Obama needs to bust out a sneak attack move.

The unexpected, from left field, swift, shocking, borderline-evil sneak attack.

It’s for the greater good.

If Obama does not employ this parental and strategic hit, I can guarantee Senator Clinton will continue to act just like my children would have, had they known those immunizations were coming. They would have begged, stalled, attempted to change my mind, stalled some more, lied to get out of it, stalled again, and then odds are I’d have to carry one or both of them to the car in tears as I tried to tell them everything would be ok.

In the end they KNOW they are getting those shots. They realize it is GOING TO HAPPEN, yet they would do their best to wiggle and manipulate to stop the inevitable.

The sneak attack makes it easier on everyone. It saves myself the pain of going through the horrific process of getting to the doctor and it saves them the anxiety and desperation.

Senator Barack Obama the time is NOW for your sneak attack.

I know you have one.

Save us ALL the pain of going through this another day.

Senator Clinton is facing the inevitable and handling it like a spoiled child. You can feel free to let her know she will not be the nominee, but don’t expect this to be over until Summer. With more stalling, and lies, and desperation.

Or you sneak attack.

Cold cocked. Blindsided. Needle in arm before she knows what’s hit her.

There will be screams.

There will be tears.

Then we will all get on with our lives.

March 26, 2008

The Story I Didn’t Tell You

On Super Tuesday, February 5th 2008, I drove to Central Los Angeles (with pneumonia) and interviewed Congresswoman Maxine Waters for BlogHer.com.

During the course of the interview we discussed why she was supporting Senator Hillary Clinton and I shared with her the story of my very stubborn grandfather who, no joke here, thought I would grow up and be a ‘fine secretary’ one day. I thought it was an important point to make; a 90-year old man with some very ‘traditional’ ideas was going to vote for a woman. I’d like to think it meant progress.

What I didn’t tell the viewer, or the Congresswoman, was that in the same breathe my grandfather championed Hillary, he called Senator Obama (and I’m paraphrasing) slimy like that Jesse Jackson and a typical black politician. Mind you all of this information came to me through my Dad, who I am guessing censored.

While a 90-year old, former Chrysler worker, blue-collar, union, grandfather being racist may not be all that shocking, what happened in my mind is - I just shrugged it off and accepted it as life.

In my mind, I filed it in the ’some people are just like that’ category and moved on.

Now I’m not saying I was going to give my grandfather a call and lecture him, as he is not always very clear on thought these days, but I could have at least processed the gravity of what I had just witnessed.

My grandfather let go of sexism (sort of) before he let go of his racism.

I say ’sort of’ because I can’t seem to shake conversations I’ve had over the years. The ones where he would be proud to the point of playing tapes for his friends of my radio news days, yet convinced I should be having more than two children.

I’m also very used to racism in my own family. My childhood memories are littered with my uncle screaming N***** RUN! at the tv while watching football. My cousin knew she was being a rebel by putting a poster of Michael Jordan on her bedroom wall.

As I watch the race issue continue to unfold in this election, I wonder how many more grandfathers and uncles are out there. The ones who would congratulate me on ‘marrying well’ and then decide voting for a woman was a much better option than voting for a black man.

I don’t have the knowledge or the expertise to go into all the reasons why these things are the way they are, but I am watching poll numbers for Senator Obama dip since the Wright flap. It’s beyond discouraging. It leaves me without much pride for this nation. It is starting to make me very angry that it matters.

God Damn America, indeed.

There. I said it. Let’s see the outrage. Let’s see the hate. Tell me how unpatriotic I am and how I’m evil.

Let me say it louder

GOD DAMN AMERICA

Prove me wrong. Show me you’re not a bunch of racist idiots.

Don’t let them fool you-the Rev. Wright fiasco is ENTIRELY about race.

How many of you have been to a black church? Show of hands please. How many of you know or even TRY to know the reasons for anything that *may* happen inside a black congregation? How many of you have seen or read the ENTIRE sermon?

I am not an African-American. I am not a minority. I do not even pretend to know the experience. But at the very least I have attempted to educate myself. At the very least I have stepped outside of my safe suburb and stood at First AME in Los Angeles.

Rev. Chip Murray, who has since retired, was one of the most inspirational men I have EVER met in my life. I have struggled with religion since I was a child and I can honestly say the ONLY person who ever came close to bringing me to God was a black preacher in Los Angeles.

That particular church had members doing and saying exactly the words of Rev. Wright and this white girl was always welcome in those doors. Welcomed with hugs and kisses and invitations to picnics after services.

In the end I have to believe that if my 90-year old grandfather can make just enough progress to vote for a woman, the rest of you-who have far longer lives ahead of you and far more clear thoughts left, can go all the way and make enough progress to vote for a person of color.

It is time. Hell, even Dave Winer admits he’s racist and voting for Obama.

The discussions are happening. Be real. Get yourself involved in them. Talk about it, write about it, be honest about it ALL.

It is time for this nation to get over this, or at the very least make an honest effort to try. You can’t do that if you’re afraid to ask or to speak up or to learn.

If not, we are a damned America, for certain.

March 18, 2008

5 Years Too Many

My son was born March 24th, 2003.

5 days before the life changing birth of my first child, the war in Iraq began.

Every phone call of congratulations mixed with worry and sadness. Every moment of joy, marred by CNN in the background. Every visitor with gifts and head shaking as they talked of the news.

Every single moment of my son’s life we have been at war.

His uncle is on his second tour in Iraq. Not first, second.

His cousins are stationed in Germany with their Mother and a new sister who has yet to meet her Dad.

I’ve spent five years grabbing the remote to change the channel quickly before little eyes see burned out convoys and dead bodies on the news.

I’ve spent five years biting my tongue as family marches off to serve.

I’ve spent five years looking at photos, always seeing the background before the bouncing baby.

Five. Years. Too. Many.

We will be* in Northridge tomorrow for a candle light vigil marking this anniversary. You can join us, or use your voice and blog.

*edited at 4pm march 19th-smalled child is passed out on my living room floor. Not sure we’re going to make the vigil. Please join the blogswarm.