Google is the New Grandma

It all started the week before Christmas. My daughter had left a message that she needed my banana bread recipe. I called, tickled that she loved it so much, and before you can say three by five card, she was telling me that she didn’t need my recipe anymore, that she had Googled another recipe instead. But it isn’t MY banana bread recipe I stammered. Oh yes, but its close enough she said, and breezily launched into another conversation. While we talked I tucked the recipe card, stained with oil from so many years of bread making, back into the metal recipe box.

The next blow came when another daughter was to meet me in a nearby town for the funeral of a mutual friend. After discussing who would be there, and what time it started, I began to tell her how to find the funeral home. Again I was dismissed before finishing my sentence, “Don’t worry Mom, I already Googled the directions, I got it!”

Okay, so my recipes are no longer treasured, and my children don’t need me to help them navigate to locations they’ve never been to, but that’s nothing compared to the final blow.

My niece called from work. “Aunt Therese, do you think you could go look at Sophie? I’m at work all day and Brad says she has a rash on her stomach, I’d feel better if you looked at it”. Puffed up with pride that SOMEONE finally needs me I heartily agreed and proceeded to their house hoping to help. Her husband Brad laid Sophie on the couch telling me that she had been running a fever for two days, but that it had finally broken this morning. Her abdomen had a very diffuse coloring to it, not quite a rash, but not hives either. Emily called as we were evaluating the situation and said “Don’t even worry about it Aunt Therese, I Googled it and I know what it is: Roseola. I see photos of it and it shows a mottling of the abdomen and legs and it says that the patient can have a fever that goes for several days, and then when it breaks there is usually this rash that starts. It’s Roseola for sure.” Okay. Yes, well I agree, it’s Roseola.

With WebMD and Allrecipes.com what’s a mother/grandmother to do? People have access to health advice, marital advice, cooking, cleaning and stain removal charts. I have to accept that many of the things I learned from my grandmother and mother will now be taught by Google, but there are still things that I can do that Google can’t. Google can’t hold a grandchild for immunizations while his mother cries out in the waiting room, can’t help pack a duffle bag for a son leaving for world travels, can’t applaud like a wild woman when she sees her grown daughter on stage making it as an actress and most of all can’t stand up and scream at a basketball referee because he called a foul when the player was clearly not blocking!

I can “be there” and be present in my children’s lives as well as my grandchildren, and isn’t that what is most important?

I learned this lesson well as I watched my mother in the last few months of her illness. She had emphysema and had become frail and weakened to the point of almost being bed ridden. Just walking to the bathroom was difficult. One day as I was helping her into the bathtub she began to cry. “Mom, why are you crying?” I asked, worried that she was in pain. “I can’t make pies anymore” she whispered. Weakened from the disease and struggling to breathe it had been a long time since she had done anything that brought her joy, and baking was definitely a joy to her. In this moment I realized more than ever, that I didn’t care if she ever baked another pie, or attended another event with me, I didn’t care if she was bedridden and required assistance for every movement. All I cared was that she was still here, still present, and still my mom. I told her this very thing, and I’d like to think it brought her some comfort. So if I can’t be the font of knowledge to my children and grandchildren, I can still be present.

Oh I’m running to keep up with technology, I’m Facebooking, Tweeting and yes, I’m Googling like the rest of them. “If you can’t beat em”, isn’t that how it goes?

Is the Internet making us obsolete? Just when I thought so my 12 year old grandson texted me: “Grandma, are you coming to my basketball game today?” to which I texted back “Duh!”

Come Together

As I watched the opening ceremonies for the Olympics tonight, I couldn't help but feel the excitement of these events. Each country representing it's colors with it's own flag, marching together and waving. All the hype is really deserved, this is a spectacular competition and yet there is such an air of dignity.
It makes me think about the state of our government right now. Each side have formed their boundaries, and no amount of persuasion will bring them together. It's politics at it's worst, and their are no winners. President Obama has had so much to face in this his first year in office, yet he is ridiculed for being either too conciliatory, or for being an obstructionist. He can't win.
But why is it that we've come to a place where we can't have some middle ground at the highest levels of government? I think because it's become a sport of it's own, to hold your ground and not let anything as petty as unemployment or health care make you "cave in" to the other side. How long will we as citizens watch this ugly stand off before we get mad and say enough? I remember the movie "Dave" and how even though it's a fantasy, it seemed so wonderful to see the hucksters and phonies booted from office, and a good guy voted in.
Is it too late? Are we that polarized that we can't come together for ANYTHING that would be good for the country? I hope not. I hope that somewhere in Washington there are congressmen and women who are having an epiphany about what they are there for, who can stand up to their own parties and demand that the ridiculous stand off be ended. I'm tired of being held hostage to fat cat politicians who want nothing more than to obstruct and humiliate the other side. We deserve better.

Can we turn our backs?

In the last three weeks we have witnessed a grass roots revolution in Iran, largely because of cell phones and social Internet sites such as Twitter. With legitimate journalists forced to leave the country this technology has had a profound effect on the way we view the Iranian crisis. We empathize with the people on the ground; we see their grainy videos shot in secret and under penalty of death if they are discovered. We hear the sounds of gunshots, and the cries of the wailing women as their loved ones’ are beaten or dragged away. These first-person home movies are the lifeline that links the Iranian people to the outside world.

These images show us the facts, once just glossed over by Iran’s secretive and oppressive government. Amateur videos, emotionally charged blogs and Twittered texts sent in a fleeting moment by a scared teenager across the planet from us, bring our shared humanity to the forefront. We feel at a very basic level solidarity with these folks, running for their lives, dreaming of freedom that they hope is possible. We, who wake up each day to the richness of our freedoms, root them on as they attempt to take back their government from the terrorist who now rules.

My wish is that we could somehow drop thousands of working cell phones down to the people living in the refugee camps at Darfur. Perhaps if we could see the graves of the 400,000 people who have already lost their lives, we would feel more empathy. Would we be moved to action if someone could send live footage on a daily basis showing that 80% of the children under five are suffering from severe malnutrition or the over 2.5 million people who have been driven from their homes? Women and girls who have the task of getting water for the group are in fear of being raped or murdered each day as they leave the camps with their water buckets-we read these statistics, but they remain words on a page. Would our hearts be pierced to call on our government to DO SOMETHING if we could see these images and hear the cries of the people of Darfur?

Our government has already stated that the crisis in Darfur is an official Genocide, yet there is little movement on the part of the International Community to save these displaced and oppressed people.

We all know that the people of Darfur have no cell phones with which to call out to us, and their only social networking is in relationships with others who share the squalid refugee camps they now call home. We who know the taste of freedom have a responsibility to reach down and give aid to those who thirst for it as well.

In The Blink of an Eye

A dear friend lost her son today to a freak accident. He is now brain dead, but his body lies in state, awaiting his final act which will leave a legacy of true love. This young man, just 36 years old, had previously indicated that he would like to be an organ donor, should the need ever arise. Unfortunately it did. Today after several tests were performed, his parents were informed that there was no perfusion to the brain and he was declared dead at 4:50 pm. This pivotal event began a timeclock and now the search is on for recipients for these precious life giving organs. Somewhere there is a mother who has been praying for an organ to become available for her child. Her prayers will be answered. One leaves in order to allow another to stay. This perfect chaos appears random, but I think otherwise. Though we cannot make sense of a life cut short, we can marvel at this show of heroism, the selfless act of one to another, the gift of life itself.
Standing at Paul's bedside today I placed my hand on his heart and I thanked him for his gift. I whispered to him that we honor his suffering and applaud his generosity. His decision will set into motion so many things. Someone who gets his heart may now have the opportunity to fall in love. A blind person may now see the sunset for the first time. A tired and weary man who has been on dialysis for years may now know robust health. There will be sorrow, and there will be rejoicing.
We cannot give Paul another 36 years to live and love and realize all of his life dreams. But how many of us can say that we have saved the lives of 6-8 people? His life is gone, and in it's place a million tiny cells burst into being and declare to the Universe itself: Hope is alive!
Pauls loving act will wipe away tears, bring happiness and hope, and leave a legacy of a man who, though he may not have ever known it, became an example to us all.
Bravo Paul. May the angels welcome you to paradise, may the martyrs greet you on your way, may you see the face of the Lord this day, Alleluia, Alleluia.

"This is the duty of our generation as we enter the twenty-first century -- solidarity with the weak, the persecuted, the lonely, the sick, and those in despair. It is expressed by the desire to give a noble and humanizing meaning to a community in which all members will define themselves not by their own identity but by that of others." Elie Wiesel

This week in my hometown a woman killed her two children, then took her own life. The details of this tragedy will come out like entrails at a vulture picnic, but they are almost not even necessary. Three people who were working and playing and talking with neighbors yesterday, are now gone.

Our American culture is so young, and so homogenized that the very thing we pride ourselves in-our independence-is also our own albatross. Most older cultures have rituals and ceremonies, there is a sense of family and community, there is a sense of belonging. I think we have lost that along the way to the uber-independence in our culture. We live in our little houses, working like dogs to pay our mortgages, and then often the people you are closest too live miles and miles away.

Would it be possible for us to find our way back to some sense of community in the midst of such a mix of culture and diversity?

I remember the day that September 11th happened, there was this immediate sense of connectedness with every single person you met. In the grocery store, at the gas station, in the workplace. We were under attack, and you had the sense that all of us were pulling together, circling the wagons against the forces that would seek to take away our very homeland.

I liked that time, just afterward. I felt a sense of connectedness with total strangers, and it felt good. We were one people and we were scared, and mad and worried. People reached out to others, and talked more.

But then the crisis abated and we went back to business as usual.

This week NPR discussed the topic of fame, and how most people want it, but then when they get it, they wish they didn't. Reminds me of the folk tale of the dancing shoes.

I think at a very basic, almost cellular level, what we all want is not fame, but just to know that we are KNOWN-that we are seen, that we have value, that our life here matters somehow.

I wonder about the woman that took her life, and her children's lives too. I wonder if she had any friendships, any connections in the community. I wonder if she passed by people everyday and said Hello, wishing that someone would connect with her, would see her. In the end it is a diagnosis of some kind of mental illness that creates this type of tragedy, but you wonder if she had confided in someone, if anything would have changed.

My life as I grow older is more concentrated, and I taste life with more attention to detail. I am pretty certain I will never be famous, but is it possible for me to make a difference in the life of others? I think that is a goal I can try to accomplish.

I want to have kindness and compassion be my compass. I hope to be present in people's lives, in good times, and in bad. I want to really SEE the people who move in and out of my life, and honor what ever they have to give, and give them all that I can.

Elie Weisel is a true example of someone who LIVES this way. His life, so full of loss and tragedy, is such a shining beacon of hope, that in the midst of life's brutality, one can find the hope to continue to reach out. His life's work is a masterpiece of love and forgiveness.

Connecting. That is what I am contemplating.

Filibuster or bust

Okay, most people who know me would say that I lean pretty far to the left. I don't apologize for that, I love being a liberal, it's a compliment. I believe that liberals are peace loving, responsible, accepting, hard working, fair minded patriots who love their country.
But here's the thing. Even though I'm thrilled that the Democrats are in charge now, I do not believe that one particular party should be able to gain Filibuster-proof control. I find that almost frightening. If the shoe were on the other foot I would be truly fearful. With that said, here we are today with Arlen Specter waltzing on over from the Republican Party to join the Dems. If only it were for the right reasons . . . but that doesn't even matter. What matters is that if Norm Coleman goes down, and Al Franken is sworn in, the Democrats will be able to drive through virtually anything without opposition.
I don't believe that our founding Fathers wanted this. A truly democratic nation is one that wants its leaders to debate, discuss and develop a plan. Not just who ever is the biggest guy gets his way.
I can see that this presents a challenge to the Democrats in Congress to use this power wisely, and not become dictators. The American people are watching and we will not be forgiving of those that abuse their privilege.
It makes me sad that there is such a polarization of the parties. I wish a strong Independent leader would emerge, then many of us might find ourselves at home. I am sick of the Limbaugh's and Hannity's sticking their feet out in the aisle like school boys, trying to trip President Obama at every turn. I'm also tired of the rhetoric spouting from Oberman, who has become a caricature of himself foaming at the mouth on past grievances.
Aren't there any reasonable, fair minded politicians who want to reach across the aisle? Can't the radio big wigs come down off the pedestals and try to forge some peace in this country for the sake of our future?
I guess it starts with us. I will be emailing my representatives today and letting them know that I expect leadership that is inclusive of others who do not agree with them. I expect Republicans to be included in decision making through vigorous debate and reasonable round table discussions.
I hope that our president will lead with less arrogance than Mr. Bush did. No one person, or one party should be "the decider".
As for the Republicans today, it's their party they can cry if they want to. You would cry too if it happened to you.

Big Brother

I always wanted a big brother, no offense to my older sister. I always wanted someone there to defend me from bullies, and look out for me on the schoolyard. Well, Big Brother is watching over me, but not in a good way.
This week we learned that our government is now using a Predator unmanned drone aircraft, on loan from the Department of Homeland Security, to survey the valley that is flooding in North Dakota. High definition videos are shot from high above the area in question, then reviewed in some cozy office at Homeland Security. This creeps me out in so many ways. When ever there is a disaster, people are vulnerable and will follow direction without question. Sending in drones to take high definition video is not in itself a threat, but what it does is inoculate us as a nation to the use of these drones. "Don't worry my little friends, the drones are our friends. This is the wave of the future. See how it's helping us?" We already have Google earth street version to pinpoint our exact location, but the technology that is emerging is so intrusive, it frightens me.
I was sitting at my computer yesterday when I received an email. It was from my car. No kidding. It emailed me, via the Onstar program, and informed me that my right front tire pressure needs attending. I was stunned. There is another example of a "helping" device, that could also be used to "track" me if needed.
Then there was the incident three weeks ago. My sister and I arrived at a friends apartment to find him disoriented and in need of an ambulance. She called 911 on her cell phone, then we both realized that we didn't have the exact address, but again, no problem. As she was talking she heard an unusual bell sound on her phone. Yep, they had tracked her down via the cell phone and were sending help straight away. Did we feel helped? Hell no, we felt extremely creeped out.
This technology is watching our every move through traffic cameras on street corners, ATM cameras, parking lot cameras-hell you can't even straighten out your pantyhose on the elevator anymore as there is some 18 year old kid watching you from the security booth!
Is there anywhere to jump off the grid anymore? I doubt it. Our government is doing a heck of a job scaring us into compliance about the amount of surveillance it is doing. I'm not sure what the solution is, but I continue to vote for LESS monitoring systems when ever possible.
Big Brother is an impostor and he is not protecting us, he is hoping we will all fall in line and fall asleep so that he can do what ever he chooses and we won't even blink an eye. Silent drones overhead-think about it.

Suffering

It seems as I grow older my peripheral vision is expanding, and what I see from every direction is suffering. Three people I know are struggling with cancer, another two are grieving the loss of children, another the loss of his marriage, another few the loss of jobs, of homes. The losses are monumental, and the courage it requires for them to keep going is enormous.

What can we do for each other, as we grow older, as we become even more familiar with these losses? Because let's not fool ourselves, with great experience and age, comes loss. We can keep our heads down, turn up the music and pretend it isn't happening. But better still I think we can link arms and walk together, heads held high with full stride.

I think life can be juicy and fun, breathtaking and heartbreaking and dangerous. I also think at times it can be boring and dull, or crushingly painful and cruel. What ever comes, we face it not alone, but in a community of family and friends. We can and must reach out to each other when we are feeling the lonliness that nips at the heels, or the fear of the unknown, or the known, when the suffering is so raw that we wonder if we can bear it another day.

I found a quote today that I love:

"I'd rather live my life as if there is a God and die to find out there isn't, than live my life as if there isn't and die to find out there is". Albert Camus

Loving matters. Caring and comforting each other when we see the need matters. Sometimes I feel so powerless to do anything to comfort some, who suffer so much, with no resolve in sight. I try to remember that what most of us need more than anything, is just for someone to be present. Someone to stay with us for a bit, and not wince at the sight of our ugly, gaping lives.

I want to grow older with vigor, and with passion but more than that, I want to grow older with deep and genuine compassion.

During this economic dark storm, we don't have the power to change the deficit, but we can look around our own little world and try to be present. That's what I am trying to do. A little candle in the darkness to find our way to each other.

And the Oscar goes to . . .

I'd like to thank the Academy for the recognition awarded me tonight. I'd also like to thank the following people for helping me to make it to this point in my life:

Sound familiar? I won't lie, I do love the Oscars. I love the gowns, and I love the people who trash the gowns. I love the camera panning out to to see reaction of the one's who lose. I love that it's live and that someone just might trip on their way up the stairs.

But back to the thanks. I'm thinking a lot lately about Karma, about life, and about teachers. I really believe that every incident that comes our way throughout our day is a teacher. Every person who cuts us off in traffic, every email that hits our inbox asking for us to do more work than we can possibly accomplish, every first date that makes us feel like a kid, and the ones that never call again-all of them are our teachers.

If we sit back and learn, we can matriculate through this period and go on to the next, but if we sass back to the teacher and resent the lesson, we are doomed to repeat the grade.

I'm trying really hard to PAY ATTENTION. To just be aware, and awake. To live consiously, not just stumbling along. I want to love with gusto every soul that comes into my path, and forgive those who hurt me along the way too. Sometimes it's like paddling upstream and other times it feels like floating along with the current.

I'd like to thank all my teachers past and present, and hope to be open to learning from those still to come.

The song of my country

Today I was lost in the middle of a big hospital. I asked a staff person to direct me to the right area and he motioned for me to follow him and he would show me the way. He was tall and lanky, very dark and shy. We walked up and down many hallways and the entire time he was singing a beautiful song, very quietly to himself. When I asked him what he was singing he seemed embarassed, as though he didn't know I could hear it. He said "Oh, it's the song of my country, that's all". I asked him what his country was and he told me he was from the Sudan. He said he missed it and would be going back.

This made me think today, what is the song of my country? I don't think it is the Star Spangled Banner, or even God Bless America, though both of these make me weep every time I hear them.

Today, on the eve of the most exciting inauguration of my lifetime, I feel the song of my country is a homogeneous blend of so many cultures. It is the song of zydeco from the bayous of Lousianna, it's the sound of smoky jazz from Chicago, it's salsa and the blues, it's hip hop and reggae and Chopin and klezmer, it's the native American flute and rock and roll and it's all of us from all walks of life. Our song is a chorus, not a solo.

There has never been a time when I felt more hope for a country that is so broken at the tender places. We are humbled, we are in need and what we need is each other. We are hungry for the partisan politics of the past to be replaced by the unity of a nation.

Barack Obama will not be a perfect president. He will let us down, make mistakes and come up short to be sure. But he is the first man in politics in a very long time who has the ability to call out of us that which has long been in slumber-hope.

My song today is "It's a New Day" by Will I Am. It speaks to my soul and it makes me happy.

I Dream A World By Langston Hughes

I dream a world where man no other man will scorn,

Where love will bless the earth and peace its paths adorn

I dream a world where all will know sweet freedom's way,

Where greed no longer saps the soul nor avarice blights our day.

A world I dream where black or white, whatever race you be,

Will share the bounties of the earth And every man is free,

Where wretchedness will hang its head and joy, like a pearl,

Attends the needs of all mankind- of such I dream, my world!

I am deeply touched by the men and women who have gone before us. These luminaries who bore our sins and dared to dream of a future that they themselves could never see. I am ever grateful to the dreamers, the poets, the long suffering grandmothers and grandfathers who, with quiet perserverance kept the faith.

Some of those wishes will come true tomorrow when the United States of America swears in Barack Obama as it's 44th president. We should bow down in thanks to the ones who cleared the way, both black and white, who marched against the water hoses and tear gas, who sang out hymns of peace while being spat upon by those with hooded robes. We have not conquered all of our demons, but it's a good start.

I feel so hopeful, so proud to be an American today. I feel the anticipation of something brand new up ahead. I know there will be mistakes, and there will be danger, but we are coming together now more than we ever have before and defining ourselves in a broader more integrated way. We will do our part, and then those behind us will do even better.

We can be proud that the day has finally come when a black man can lead this country. Yes we can. We can relax and know that torture will no longer be tolerated, yes we can. We can rest assured that in time, everyone will have affordable heathcare, yes we can. And we can know that the international community will open it's arms in collaboration, yes we can.

The call to service is one I will ponder. There is much work to do, but together we can do it. Yes we can!

This is a stick up

Bernard Madoff was arrested this week for ripping off untold numbers of investors in the amount of 50 billion dollars.

Wait now, let me repeat this: 50 BILLION dollars.

If a twenty year old with a drug habit and a hankerin for heroin holds up a liquor store for 50 bucks his ass lands in jail that VERY NIGHT. There is usually no one to pay his bond and he is not likely to have a well dressed attorney to reduce his bail terms. He gets no special treatment and can go to jail in a heartbeat.

So, if you are a white collared rich dude with an expensive attorney here is what you get for STEALING 50 BILLION dollars:

"Out on bail with a curfew, defendant must be remanded to his home between 7pm and 9 am. Passport is surrendered and defendant must wear anklet device".

Oh, wow, what a statement of the seriousness of the crime huh? What kind of a legal system do we have when someone can rob people, albeit rich people, of so much money and get some little lightweight slap on the hand?

I'm appalled, I'm just completely agog. It almost makes one want to go to law school just to level the playing field.

Okay now, I said almost.

But for real, 50 billion?

Of cigarettes and longing

It's Christmas time, and I want my mom. It's been over 18 years now, and the gut wrenching grief is long gone, but the ties that hold you to your mom never come undone, even in death. I was shopping last week, in a great mood, looking at some Christmas ribbons, when all of a sudden my mother's favorite Christmas song came on the store speakers. I instantly started sobbing in the middle of the aisle, I came completely unglued in the middle of the dollar store.

Christmas was cookie heaven at our house growing up. We didn't have money, but we had a lot of baked goods. We decorated cut out cookies so much my sister Nancy refers to that time as our "cookie sweat shop" period. We loved decorating them but there really can be too much of a good thing! After a few dozen ginger bread cookies made just so, we would just sprinkle on the glittering sparkles as fast as we could to get them done. But everyone loved my Mom's baking, and Christmas was the time when her talents really shined. Like making Hajji, everyone had to come at some point and taste my mother's baked goods.

What kind of solace is there for the deep, primal loss of your mother? What-that she's in heaven? Or that she's reached Nirvana? Or that she's in Purgatory working out her sins? Or that she's dust?

If I can take license for just a moment I would like to picture my mother in Heaven like this: She is wearing her turqoise polyester pant suit, letting her nails dry from just painting them cherry red. Her permed-up hair is sprayed up good and it has the artificial look of Clairol #5 Strawberry Blonde. She's sitting at a table with a cheap cigarette in one hand, and a beer in the other. Sitting next to her is her wild, untamed, chain-smoking, crazy ass sister Rosie who is borrowing a Vicodin and a beer from my mom and dealing out the cards for them to play KIngs in the Corner. They are in hog heaven, praising Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Halleluia and pass the ashtray! Both of them had childhood trauma's and a lifetime of addictions, but my mother had a heart of gold. I miss that heart.

That's it, that's all. Just that, although my heart is full and I am happier in my life than I have ever been, I still miss her. Always will I guess.

Purple Haze

Chicanery- I love the sound of this word, it sounds like a fun pink and black striped candy that you could buy at the candy counter in a movie theater, but the meaning is more like what you find on the floor of the theater after an all-day film fest.

This week we found out that Chicago politics are more corrupt than we even knew. The Governor was auctioning off the vacating senate seat of our president elect for payola, and wanted other perks as well. So many pundits are chiming in on this dung heap, it's hard to find anything else to say, but as I am rarely at a loss for words, I have some thoughts on the matter.

Why is it that so many times in various different settings, people lose themselves when they gain recognition and success? You see it in corporations, in school boards and especially in churches. The humble servant seeks to serve and before long he expects that all should serve him (or her). Are we destined to just have the most base and coniving of our species rise to places of power because the rest of us have no stomach for it? I'd like to think that there are those among us who, given the challenge, could overcome the temptation to morph into the egocentric goons that seem to occupy the highest seats.

I saw Ann Coulter on Fox News today. Her whole aura seems to be one of gloating, self righteousness. Her comments are snide and her world view is so negative, it's hard to imagine her being in any relationships with friends who would feel safe around her. I confess I would love to lock her in a room with Bill Mahr, the room would combust with their two egos in full throttle.

In the end I believe that Jimi Hendrix was right: "When the power of love overcomes the love of power, the world will know peace."

I'm hoping with all my heart that Mr. Obama will raise the bar for our government, and our country as a whole. I want to aspire to be a better person for the higher good. I want to live in a country where we aren't all jaded about our leaders, where we feel that they are making decisions that will benefit the many, not just the few.

Am I naive? Perhaps, but I love the idea that we can all evolve, that life is an ever changing ball of wonder, and that the impossible can come still come true.

Now where did I put that screw driver?

This week in the news we heard that Heidi Stefanyshyn-Piper, one of the astronauts on the International Space Station, accidentally let her tool bag slip away while she was making a repair on the outside of the space station. I hate when that happens! The photo of this is priceless, actually pretty unreal. I kept thinking about this incident all week and now I'm just going to jot down some thoughts for your ponderation.

1). How can we manage to send people into space for months at a time and plan out each and every element, from oxygen delivery to waste mangaement, food and temperature control, and yet someone couldn't think to attach some velcro to the tool kit?

2) Why is it that the first time a tool kit goes missing it's the girl's fault? I hope she isn't blonde.

3) I think it's hilarious that at the moment the astronaut saw that the tool kit was floating away the NASA ground crew overheard her say "Oh Great!" If you drop your cell phone in a mud puddle it's "Oh Great" if you drop your bagel on the floor it's "Oh Great!" but come on people, if you drop a $100,000 tool kit in space in front of the entire world via satellite? There would have to be a seven second delay for what I would be saying.

Somehow this whole incident serves to make me step back and realize that we can plan our lives, we can set it up and have every detail lined up a certain way, but then life can just come along and BOOM, your tool kit is floating away. I feel that way sometimes when my stress level gets up to DEFCON 5. I feel my coping skills just floating away in space and as I try to slo-mo my way over to get them, they just slip further away. At that point I have learned that the best thing to do is hunker down and wait. Call the cavalry and let them know that there's been an incident and then make a new plan. Usually the waiting brings about renewed ideas and the stamina to implement them. Or, like the astronauts on the International Space Station, someone with their own tool kit can come along and help you.

Now all we have to do is be watchful. If you are walking a beautiful beach some night at sunset and you look up to see something hurling at you at the speed of light, I would say DUCK because a wrench coming full tilt from space is gonna leave a mark.

Time's up!

Rootin Tootin Vladimir Putin and Mayor Michael Boom Boom Bloomberg have lots in common. Both have delusions of grandeur that convince them that the world as we know it will collapse into ruin if they are not in power-again. To that end both are seeking to change the term limits laws in their prospective communities. Mayor Bloomberg succeeded last week, along with the city council, but it remains to be seen whether or not this will withstand the challenge it will certainly recieve.

What is interesting in both instances is what we see often in corporate America. People claw their way to the top and once they get a sip of the power, become addicted to the high and will do anything to keep it.

It is as ridiculous as it is narcisstic to think that they alone can lead their people. Term limits were enacted for very good reasons. Cronyism and corruption are the two that come to mind. I remember working for a company where I watched as the most ruthless and corrupt persons rose up in the ranks, feared by most and respected by none. They wielded their power like bludgeons and had no sense of the collective good.

Term limits are our way of saying that we know that power can corrupt, and that no one person is ever the only person who can lead. We need people in leadership positions both in and out of government who are going to lead with a sense of the collective good. This will only happen when competent people step forward and agree to serve. Good people who will not let the stench of the good ole boy network turn them away. Dedicated people who cannot be bought, and will not sell out.

Bloomberg and Putin, get a grip. You had your fiftteen minutes and your time's up. If you are so concerned about the future of your people, then stick around in an advisory position and continue to serve. Emphasis on serve.

I'm just saying . . .

Priceless!

Yes Virginia, there really is a Barack Obama!

Christmas came early last night and the celebration could be heard around the world. I'm usually not lost for words, but today I just want to say that I feel so hopeful for our future because of Barack Obama. There will be those who will be looking for his every mistake, and those who will be gloating at the enormity of his challenge. Let them simmer in their hate. Those of us who voted for this man have dared to dream of a time when our country can move beyond racial divides and rise to be the kind of nation where our similarities are celebrated and our differences mended. Today I am so grateful to live in a country where the people can decide who leads them, and we have chosen.

John McCain stepped down last night in a gracious and very dignified manner. He will no doubt be sought out in the new cabinet for his advice, as he so generously offered last night.

I pray that all those who so vehemently opposed our candidate will, in time come to respect him and embrace the him as our new president of the United States-Barack Obama. As Obama stated last night, it's not about him, it's about US.

Dear Stem, we hardly knew ye.

Today we honor all those brave young souls who died alone, in the bottom of a red biohazard bag, incinerated at the end of the month with legions of soiled utility towels and latex gloves. We honor their sacrifice, their bravery in the fight for the opportunity to become one single precious life whose sole purpose is to grow in the womb of a fertile, waiting, hopeful mother. So intent on bearing a child is she, that in the absence of God's actions, she takes it on herself to extract her own eggs and place them in the hands of a scientist. This medical shaman then impregnates that egg with spilled sperm from the potential mother's husband, whom she deeply loves and is committed to in the holy state of matrimony. After approximately three thousand dollars, a fertilized embryo may occur and we call this occurance "life". Make no mistake, these fertilized embryo's are not just some random tissue, replicating willy nilly in a dark, lonely laboratory. These embryo's are actual tiny children, with all the exact same cells and hallmarks as you or I, except that it can fit in a tiny petri dish. These children then are replicated in multiples, as it takes many attempts to finally get a firm implantation in the mother's hormonally enhanced uterus. Yes, God doesn't see fit to give her the proper hormones, so she seeks wisdom from her physician who pumps her full of chemicals in order to better her chances of having one of these multiple children decide to stay for a while.

What then remains of all the mulitples that have no purpose once the mother has finally reached her goal and becomes pregnant? These embryos are not some science experiment that can be discarded as so much trash, these cell groupings are living souls with the imprint of God himself.

If we truly believe this, then each and every embryo that is not implanted into the mother ought to have a proper funeral and a Christian burial. A respectful graveside service is the least that should be offered for these poor souls that have died, waiting for the mother who, in her hurry to run ahead and play God, has changed the rules once she has recieved the coveted prize, and then lo and behold-these embryos are now expendable. She goes home, flush with the knowledge that she is with child, and leaves the rest of the messy decisions about the disposal of the potential cell groupings to the doctors. Isn't that tidy?

What if, in the absence of finding a uterus to have them, these same embryos could find a home not in a uterus, but perhaps in the body of a seven year old boy with osteosarcoma? What kind of higher calling would that lend to an embryo who is otherwise slated for the trash bin? Would not a soul, with all the potential to become a human being, not then be offered the opportunity to become part of the healing of another young soul? This sacred symetry would be so life-giving that each embryo would know it has reached it's full potential in it's tiny lifespan.

John 15:13 "Greater love hath no man than this, that he would lay down his life for his friends."

I challenge anyone who is against the use of stem cells for the healing of another human soul to sit in the hospital room with a child with cancer. Not for an hour, or a day. Sit there day in and day out for a month. Watch that child being poked and prodded, bloated from steroids, bald from the medications and fighting to stay alive.

We have the opportunity to take what has already been created for other reasons, and grant life to an innocent victim of childhood illness. Shame on those who will not share the bounty of their fertile richness to save a dying child. Playing God is fine when you hit the jackpot yourself, owning up to the fact that you've denied that same life to others may be a bit harder to answer for when the roll is called up yonder.

We deserve better

I saw this ad posted on the Drudge Report today, and it immediately made me feel both sad and angry. Sad because this is the state of politics in the McCain campaign, and angry because there are many Americans who don't have the ability to process complex information and will derive their opinion of Barack Obama through these types of smear ads.

This ad shows that there is no depths too deep for Mr. McCain to go. Karl Rove must be so proud. Our country is so thirsty right now for a positive voice, so anxious about our financial crisis and downright eager to have someone lead with a steady hand, and this is all the McCain/Palin group can muster? It's disgraceful and nauseating to me that McCain can stand up with that big grin on his face, calling us all his 'friends" and then blatantly lie to us about the facts. It reminds me of the ice skater Nancy Kerrigan and the incident that occured in 1994. Ms. Kerrigan was ahead in competition and Tonya Harding saw her chances of a win waning. Because she couldn't win on her own merit, she had her husband club Nancy Kerrigan in the knee, causing a serious injury.

Barack Obama has been a tough competitor but he has never questioned John McCain's patriotism, and has never put John McCain's life in danger with rhetoric. The McCain/Palin team seems to have no shame in ramping up their crowds with hate and misinformation. If anything were to happen to Barack Obama from here till the election, hundreds of thousands of American citizens will hold John McCain personally responsible.

I hope with all my heart that on election day American's will choose the candidate who has the dignity and compassion to lead us in the coming four years. My choice will be Barack Obama.