This afternoon Sen. John McCain who is, as far as I know, the only congressional official to endure torture while a POW, voted against a ban on waterboarding. You read that correctly: McCain, the straight-talking maverick, voted against banning the CIA from using torture.
Good news is the bill passed the senate, 51-45.
Bad news? Bush says he’ll veto the legislation precisely because it contains a ban on torture.
What has happened to our country?
Zebu is home with the flu and is listening to the audio version of HARRIET THE SPY. I loved this book as a child and read it over and over. However, Zebu just asked a question I don’t think I ever pondered:
What relation, if any, is there between Harriet’s classmate, Pinky Whitehead, and their teacher, Miss Whitehead?
Do you know?
commented on my earlier post that she couldn’t understand why people would vote for McCain and why there was so much propaganda on the television in the U.S. when she was here last summer. This little video clip from MediaMatters.org goes a long way toward illuminating both issues:
John McCain will be the Republican presidential nominee. He likes to pretend he’s a moderate, a maverick, someone who gives us the straight talk on all the difficult issues. As we look ahead to what’s coming in the next nine months, here’s one jaw-dropping example of what John McCain is really all about (from an April 2007 stop on his “Straight Talk” tour):
Last night we caucused in Colorado.
Our caucus location for our House District is a local high school. In the past, all forty precincts met around tables in the cafeteria. During the last presidential cycle a total of 174 people participated and it was slightly chaotic yet energizing to have all those conversations and votes happening at the same time.
Last night? Well, 1,570 Democrats showed up to caucus at the high school. It was full-on craziness.
Especially so in my precinct. In the last two election cycles about ten people from my precinct came to caucus, and those were considered decent turnouts. Last night, 76 people from my precinct showed up!
I was the precinct committee person and it was up to me to run the show. Yikes. Fortunately, we’d been assigned a classroom but even so, all the desks were taken and people sat on the floor and stood along the walls. It was rather intimidating looking out at all those expectant faces, knowing how much we were expected to accomplish in the next two hours. But with the help of Zippy acting as secretary and several kind people who told me throughout the evening that I was doing a fine job, we made it through.
(A big thank-you to![[info]](https://i0.wp.com/stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
sarah_create for sending good thoughts my way. I’d confessed to her that lately my voice wavers when I’m speaking in front of a group, mostly because I get over-excited and forget to breathe. And yes, it wavered a little last night but I calmed down and got through everything that needed to be done. Breathing is so important!)
So here’s how it broke down in our group: During the non-binding straw poll, Zippy and I voted for Edwards and one woman voted for Gravel. The rest were for Clinton and Obama, with Obama getting about seven more votes. Then people gave short little speeches about why they supported their candidates and then we voted the official, binding vote. Obama got 48 votes (including Zippy’s and mine since our two votes weren’t enough to make Edwards viable) and Clinton got 28. It was pretty interesting how votes shifted the second time around.
I was thrilled so many people were there to participate but was less thrilled when people started filing out of the room as we voted for delegates to our county convention. It does not bode well when people are passionate about a candidate for an hour but balk at the idea of spending a day as a delegate for that candidate. However, we eventually ended up with enough delegates and a handful of alternates so we should be covered.
Another item on the caucus agenda is electing precinct committee people. Each precinct should have two (ours had just me) and I told the remaining people I’d be happy to continue serving but that in all honesty, I didn’t have a burning enthusiasm for either candidate so maybe there were people in the room who wanted to step up and organize for their candidates. And two people did just that! So I’m no longer serving as the very bottom grassroots rung in the Democratic party, and part of me is a little sad but mostly I’m glad to be rid of that pressure. Something tells me when it comes down to organizing against McCain, I’ll be there on the front lines anyway.
But for right now, I’m very happy the caucus is over and that I did right by my precinct.
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.
This morning I learned a new hooping trick!
I can now officially hoop on my chest!
Told my mother over the phone and she said, “Er, isn’t that painful?”
I said, “Not on my breasts, Mom. On my chest!”
To which she replied, ‘Well, then that’s wonderful!”
Good old Mom.
This morning a family friend who is home from Carleton College came over to hoop. Zippy and I had already gotten her measurement (floor to navel) and made her hoop. I left her with the gaffer tape while I took Zebu to school. A few minutes after I got back home she gave me a somewhat exasperated look and asked if she could finish taping later. Taping is tiresome work and I was glad to learn I’m not the only one who stinks at it. Wrinkles, anyone? Gaps?
We went down to the basement and hooped for about 90 minutes.
We laughed as our hoops hit the ceiling, flew across the room, and knocked the backs of our heads. We grinned in triumph whenever the hoops twirled just the way we wanted them to twirl. And we agreed that thigh hooping is damned difficult and slightly painful, and maybe not a trick we need to learn.
We made plans to hoop together again very soon.
This evening Zebu taped his hoop.
I’m calling it Tracy’s Hooping Anti-Massacre Movement. Somehow I think Arlo would approve.
The U.S. House and Senate are expected to vote today on further funding for the occupation of Iraq.
The Democrats are poised to cave into the Bush administration (again). I’m so tired of our so-called leaders enabling this war criminal.
If you’re tired, too, please call and voice your opinion. If you believe there should be no more funding without a withdrawal timetable, then tell your elected officials. If you believe the only money that should go into Iraq is for reconstruction projects so the Iraqis can again have water, electricity, schools, etc., then tell your elected officials. Whatever your feelings, call your representatives and let them know. Please.
The capitol switchboard is 1-800-614-2803. (An operator will direct your call).
Edited to add this photo. These are the current numbers as of today (verified deaths):
I just finished reading a truly bad book that was NOT written by anyone here in LJ land but was a random YA I grabbed at the library.
Now I’m really motivated to write well during my revisions today.
Bad literature can be inspirational, don’t you think?
Last night Zippy and I saw I’M NOT THERE, the Todd Haynes film about Bob Dylan. Six different actors play Bob Dylan at different points in his life and career. It’s a gorgeous film (the opening sequence alone is incredible, black and white to “Stuck Inside of Mobile With the Memphis Blues Again”) with some great acting including a black boy (Marcus Carl Franklin) who plays the early Dylan via a character named Woody and Cate Blanchett (character is Jude Quinn) who plays Dylan when he went electric and outraged the folk community. I was also mesmerized by Claire (ex-wife Sara character) played by Charlotte Gainsbourg. The music is perfect throughout (there are about 34 songs, some in their entirety and pieces of others) and at times I wanted to get up and dance. I don’t see many movies in theaters because I cannot stand sitting next to people who think it’s okay to talk during a film. Well, even though this one runs about 2 1/2 hours, the theater was silent. It was an amazing experience. I know there are other Dylan fans out there in LJ land so I encourage you to see this film in the theater because a small screen won’t do it justice.
If you’re interested, here’s the official trailer:
Especially if they’re no-line bifocals.
You know, the kind of glasses you really, really want and need to remain straight on your face?
On Monday morning I suddenly realized I wanted to revisit my middle-grade that’s out on submission. So I’m tightening and reworking some things. It feels good to make the story even better.
And
, in case you poke your head out of your writing cave today I want you to know I’m rooting for you. Writing the ending is sometimes SO hard because I don’t want to say goodbye to my characters (and then there are the times I want to load them all onto a bus at gun point just so I can drive them off a bridge). Maybe that’s a little of what you’re feeling; a bit of melancholy. Either way, put down the paintbrush and get that story written!
Report back when you’re done, and I’ll do the same.
This morning I was reading the newspaper and came across an article on the television show “Ugly Betty.” Now, I haven’t watched the show and don’t especially care about the show. But I do like something to read when I’m drinking my coffee, so I read the article. Apparently the U.S. show is based on a Columbian telenovela called “Yo soy Betty la fea” and in Columbia, “Ugly Betty” is seen as a pale imitation of the original.
No arguments here since I haven’t seen either show.
But I practically spit out my coffee when I came across this: “Watching the gringo version [of “Yo soy Betty la fea”] would be like reading “100 YEARS OF SOLITUDE” in English,” says Fabian Sanabria, an anthropologist at the Universidad Nacional who studies television. “It makes no sense.”
WHAT?
I’ve read the English translation of “100 YEARS OF SOLITUDE” several times. The book is gorgeous and incredible and I’ve said many, many times that if the book is that gorgeous and incredible in translation, it must be beyond belief in its original Spanish. I acknowledge that things are lost in translation but the book still made perfect sense to me. I love that book. And even though I was once nearly fluent in Spanish, I know I couldn’t read that book in Spanish; the Spanish wouldn’t make enough sense to me and I’d miss too much.
?Yo soy Tracy la loca?
It’s been a wild ride the past few days but emotions have calmed and personalities have stopped clashing, at least for this moment. And for that, I am thankful.
Wishing all of you a calm and peaceful Thanksgiving.
It’s that time of year when the leaves jump off the trees and hit the ground.
Really. I’ve seen it happen. I’ve yet to hear any screaming, though.
This past weekend I raked my leaves and scooped them into an empty trash can.
After each scoop I stomped down on them with my foot to pack them in tighter AND
break them into smaller pieces. If you don’t have long legs (or an enormous foot), use the rake handle to
stir the leaves. When the can is full, pour them onto the flower bed you’ve already
sprayed with the hose. After spreading them around the plants, spray the leaves with
the hose so they’ll be less likely to blow away in the wind.
Leaves are a great mulch that will hold the moisture for your plants plus they’re full
of nutrients for your soil.
When you mulch with leaves:
1) you keep stuff out of the landfill
2) you don’t use a plastic bag that ends up in landfill
3) you feed and protect your plants over the winter months
4) you add fall color to your beds (at least for a little while!) 
Tracy Abell 