Just discovered that John Edwards is dropping out of the presidential race today. While I didn’t believe he had a chance to get the nomination, it was very important that he brought important issues and ideas to the debate. He held Obama and Clinton accountable.
Now it’s only them. They can go all corporate and centrist, and no one will be there to call them on it.
Oh yeah, and there’s Romney and McCain, too.
That hope I felt the other day is nowhere to be found.
I’ve been feeling down lately about the present and future of this country. The damage done in the past seven years will take many, many years to undo and we need strong, brave leaders who understand that desperate times require bold solutions. I believe Edwards is the best candidate to get this country back on track but his populist, progressive message is a threat to our corporate media and the DLC which are doing their best to marginalize him. I don’t believe Edwards can get the nomination and I’ll just say that I’m less than thrilled with the two other leading candidates.
So why am I feeling hope?
Hope Reason Number One: I found out tonight that a woman and writer I very much admire is going to run for public office. You gotta love that kind of grassroots spunk and determination!
Hope Reason Number Two: Last Friday night when I was at the caucus training for the upcoming Colorado caucuses (Feb 5) our party secretary told us that in 2004, a total of 2100 people in our county participated in caucuses but that as of Friday, the party phone line had already received 2700 inquiries about caucus locations! More people are getting involved which means more ideas and more passion and maybe, just maybe, more progressive solutions to the many problems!
Hope Reason Number Three: Tonight I helped with the weekly spaghetti dinner for the homeless and working poor. And guess what? Folks were talking about caucusing! In 2004 I registered many of those people to vote, some for the first time in a long time and some for the first time ever, but I didn’t really push to get them to caucuses because the interest didn’t seem to be there. But now they want to be involved right from the start which means more people involved which means more ideas and more passion and, well, you know.
Have you ever noticed how Hope makes you feel just a tiny bit lighter?
Oops. I thought we’d reached the end of the storyline about Agnes writing her first novel. I was wrong:
Agnes by Tony Cochran
The obvious reaction would be to scoff at Agnes for her lack of gumption. She’s a quitter! I mean, of course a novel requires lots of words and of course writing those many, many words can sometimes feel like drudgery. But then I thought back to what I’d accomplished on my revisions over the past two days and realized that I, too, am a sentencist. I spent hours writing and rewriting the same lines, trying to find the tone and rhythm I need in order to revise the entire novel. My word count for those days is pretty minuscule. On the other hand, I finally produced the sentences I needed in order to move forward.
For the time being, I’m satisfied with my status as sentencist; I just have to remember that eventually those sentences need to come together to form a novel and that ideally the novel will be completed in this lifetime.
Agnes has apparently given up on writing her first novel. Or maybe not. Perhaps she’s hunkered down in fierce concentration as she writes the story of beautiful, beautiful Magdalena. Only Agnes knows.
I wanted to share a little story about Agnes and me. Back in May of 2003, I had the wonderful opportunity to go to Iowa City for the summer session of Iowa Writers’ Workshop with Marilynne Robinson. I stayed at the Brown Street Inn for those three weeks. A nice older man, R, and his wife were also there, acting as caretakers whenever the owners had to leave. Every morning I’d go for a run along the Iowa River and then shower before heading down to the kitchen for breakfast. R was always there, reading the paper but ready for conversation.
It was just two months since the U.S. invaded Iraq and R most definitely supported the Bush administration. Our views and opinions were in direct opposition so we’d touch on the issue of Iraq and then tiptoe along to other topics. One of my efforts at diplomacy was to share the Agnes strips with him. At first R was just being a good sport about it; he’d read the strips and laugh, often sounding more puzzled than amused. But before long R was greeting me in the mornings with “Tracy, Agnes is really funny today!”
Fast forward to the summer of 2004 when my family took a cross-country car trip. When we planned the trip, I lobbied to go through Iowa City and was thrilled when I was able to reserve the top-floor suite at the Brown Street Inn. I wanted my family to meet all the wonderful people who’d been so kind and supportive during my stay.
We arrived late that afternoon, tired and crabby from the long drive. After checking in with R and his wife who were helping out again, we headed upstairs to our room.
We walked in and found this taped to the television screen:
Agnes by Tony Cochran
Agnes is a funny, funny girl…
I figured it wasn’t a bad idea to document my chipped nails and torn cuticles in case the great and powerful O ever invites me to be her guest. You all might want to do the same.
Agnes by Tony Cochran
Suddenly my plotting abilities don’t seem so weak. And I’m starting to think the pony-tailed Trout with her sharp editorial eye is my Ideal Reader. I’ll keep her in mind today as I work on revisions, and just might find a way to include a legume-related accident or two.
Agnes by Tony Cochran
At least when Agnes procrastinates she sketches dogs. I mostly eat and nap and stare into space. And then go see what else is in the fridge.
I’ve already posted a suggestion for using waxed paper bags for lunches rather than plastic bags. But there’s an even greener alternative: cereal box liners!
(Photobucket isn’t cooperating tonight so I apologize for the mammoth image and ask your forgiveness for any dreams in which you are chased by an enormous sandwich. Or countertop).
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I read this book a couple months ago but couldn’t bring myself to blog about it. Why? Because the subject matter was so difficult for me. Here’s the summary: “After her former friend Leah dies in an automobile accident, Laine remembers their troubled relationship, dating back to elementary school when Leah convinced Laine to ‘practice’ in the closet with her, and Leah controlled her every thought.”
Even though I never had a Leah in my life, at least not that exact model, I’ve known and experienced Laine’s fear and confusion at the hands of supposed friends. It’s a horrible place to be. And Jo Knowles’s spare and deliberate storytelling took me right back there. There is no way I could have finished reading such a painful story if it hadn’t been written so well; I was practically looking for an excuse to put down the book.
From page 66: When we get back to the house, Leah acts especially cheerful, urging everyone to have a second piece of birthday cake. She makes sure Paige has a seat next to her. Later we climb into sleeping bags spread out on Leah’s bedroom floor. Leah puts Paige’s sleeping bag next to hers before I can spread mine there. This is it, I think. Paige is the new me. Maybe I should be relieved.
Typing out those words just now made my heart pound as I remembered the conflicting feelings I’ve had for friends/tormentors in my own life. Your head tells you one thing, your heart another, and pretty soon you don’t know up from down.
Knowles does a superb job of putting us in Laine’s head, sharing all those tipping moments when she could have (should have?) stepped away and escaped the hurt. But no matter how loud I yelled for Laine to run the other way, it didn’t matter. Because this was Laine and Leah’s story, not mine. Life’s lessons are learned in many different ways.
Congratulations to the courageous
for wading into those lives and writing Laine’s story so that it felt like my own.
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Tracy Abell 