Feeling a Little Verklempt

I just returned from a quick non-inauguration related trip to Washington, DC. The city was humming in anticipation of the big day next week, almost like that somewhat supernatural phenomenon that happens in Taos, NM. But I’m sure it was emanating from inside me – I was beside myself.

On our last day in the city, my travel mate and I stood before the inauguration podium, walked the streets lined with bleachers where millions are anticipated to converge on January 20^th, and peeked through the gate at the White House. We posed in front of Blair House, where the Obamas took up residence during our stay (or rather diagonally to it, as the street was naturally closed off), a follow up to our photo in front of the Hay-Adams Hotel where the First Family Elect were relegated for a couple weeks due to one last, lame power play by Bush. And we poked through the mostly-made-in-China inauguration paraphernalia at a shop near the White House. It was here that my emotions really ran amok, and I had to choke back tears as I pawed through the pins and stickers and t-shirts.

I’m sure it had something to do with the rough night I had before, thanks to a toxic combination of Ethiopian food and gimlets (okay, wine too), and a waxing head and chest cold. But that wasn’t it – see nothing else was choking me up. Not the homeless people, the mentally ill woman who accused my friend and me of being go-go dancers, the potentially confrontational scene between DC police and some young shoplifters in the Filene’s Basement entryway, or even the gut wrenching photo of a napalm survivor at the Richard Avedon exhibit. My hormones were tuned to respond to the historic occasion approaching, and nothing else.

But as I contemplated the unexpected intensity of my emotions, I realized it was not just the historic nature of the event that was making me feel so raw. It was fear, mixed with desire. Desperation is probably more apt. I was struck with the realization that I am expecting too much, and need to ratchet my hopes down – but just a notch. I do believe good things will start happening, and quickly. We’ve had brilliant policy makers in the White House, corporate puppets, ideologues, philanderers, and buffoons - often a combination of these at any given time. I’ve never had the word “integrity” bubble up when I think of a president, until now. It’s the golden ticket, Charlie! But it’s the golden ticket in the hands of a mere human, in a terribly flawed and corrupt system – fortunately one he has not been tumbling around in as long as most.

So what’s a patriot to do? Well, this one is going to pay attention, stay engaged, and make my voice heard. And yes, I’m going to keep up the hope. It can’t hurt.

Video Games are Shifting Evolution in Reverse

When I venture into stores, I often have emotional reactions - especially when I'm in stores I'd rather not support. In Walmart, I'm generally overwhelmed by the sheer mass of crap, and disgusted at how easily I let myself wander from a very limited shopping list - "necessities" I just can't find in locally owned shops - to buy things I don't need. Also, having read Barbara Ehrenreich's excellent Nickel and Dimed, I'm hypersensitive to the aggregious working conditions. "Kids, take in all this plight!" but without the National Lampoon humor.

The other day I found myself in a Game Stop store. Holy schmoly what a creepy place. But first for my brief confession - I own a Playstation 2, purchased in the throes of Seasonal Affective Disorder last January when we had about 8 feet of snow and it was too cold to get out and enjoy it. I bought 3 games, all rated "E" for everyone: an American Idol karaoke game, a horse racing game and one based on the movie "Cars." In the past year the thing has probably gotten about 6 hours of play - not counting the times when it filled in as a dvd player. But it's cold and snowy again, so I decided to see if I could find a Harry Potter game. Lily is all things Harry Potter now, thanks to her Dad's nightly read-alouds of the books (about to start #4).

Back to the store. I had some difficulty finding the used Quiddich Cup game, overshadowed as it is by the shocking variety of violent games. Even some of the "E" rated games involve swordfights and the like, but I guess as long as there isn't any gushing blood it's considered okay for the under 10 crowd. When I saw the rows of used Grand Theft Auto I couldn't help but think about the young men who had been indoctrinated into this world. It's shudder-worthy. Then, standing in line I had some time to check out my fellow patrons. There was a decided lack of females, and the men/boys, well...let's just say there seemed to be some hygiene issues. Honestly, it was sociopath central. It was a good tonic against doing anything more than dabbling in this pastime!

Wanted: Leadership, not Bean-Counting

Vermont is a special place. One of the unique features that makes Vermont so special is our close connection to decision making; from the open, accessible State House, to the citizen legislature whose members we can easily contact and talk with about issues important to us.

On December 19th, the Joint Fiscal Office will vote on whether to submit to the Governor’s short-sighted plan and push through interim budget cuts without the full engagement of our newly elected legislators. To their credit, the committee resisted demands to cut even more, but the cuts they are proposing will have an impact on vulnerable Vermonters, including people with disabilities, the elderly, and low-income families. And perhaps more importantly, these cuts signal a policy direction that will impact many, many more Vermonters, without engaging in vigorous debate about whether our budget woes should be addressed by cutting spending.

A December 14th editorial in the Times-Argus questioned how, after six years of Governor Douglas’s “leadership” there could possibly be any budgetary fat to trim? His dogmatic unwillingness to consider serious revenue-side solutions runs counter to the best thinking of economists, not to mention historical points of reference. That’s right – this isn’t the first time the country or Vermont has experienced budget shortfalls and economic crisis. And every time, the way out was to spend more, not less.

A fairly high-ranking state employee recently told me that until the administration can see the light at the end of the tunnel, deficit spending and increasing revenue in a meaningful way are “off the table.” Thing is, it is government’s role to create the light at the end of the tunnel, to be the safety net when the free market fails. It’s time for the Governor to worry less about the 20,000 ultra-wealthy Vermonters he referenced during his appearance on Vermont Public Radio last week and put all options on the table for the benefit of the other 600,000+ of us.

This fall, Vermonters overwhelming sent a message that we want to do things differently. We elected Barack Obama by one of the highest margins in the country, understanding his vision for pulling the country out of economic free-fall would involve deficit spending –lots of it, and not just in response to collapsing industries. Around the state new faces were elected to the Legislature. These are the representatives we want engaged in a thoughtful dialogue about how to create light at the end of the tunnel. We need big, bold leadership and visionary thinking to prevent policy decisions that are at best penny-wise, pound foolish.

Shades of Ex-Pat

I recently returned from a stay on the Puerto Rican island of Vieques - a brief and relaxing stay in one of the most lovely and uncrowded beach destinations in the Carribean. I recognize the irony in being happy that I enjoyed such an unspoiled*, uncrowded beach.


Vieques seemed to have a moderate sized gringo ex-pat community. One of the transplants we got to chat with a bit had relocated from Key West a couple years ago when it became too commercial and overrun. She was looking for the next undiscovered, extremely laid back tropical home, and found it in Isabel II, the larger of the two towns on the island. She was friendly and forthcoming about a number of things, but had surprisingly little knowledge of the culture of her adopted home. As we sat at her sidewalk cafe, a young man rode by on one of the distinctive Paso Fino horses that roam the island in various states of domestication (or not), with their exagerated, quick, high step. One of my companions thought there might be a name for that step, so we asked our friendly hostess, who seemed quite befuddled and told us it was the horseshoes that made the sound. It was apparent that she wasn't in Vieques for the native culture, and hadn't bothered to study up for her hospitality role.



By contrast, my travel companion Z found a fairly comprehensive history book of the island (post-Columbus), read it on the beach one day, and became an excellent resource for the group - able to provide, for example, context for the military bunkers we drove by as we looked in vain for a remote beach.

I have other ex-pat friends who immerse themselves in the culture of their adopted home countries, and act as one-woman tourism offices, ethnographers and cultural attaches. I just can't imagine moving to a new place and not being remotely curious about the differences.

Then again, I also don''t understand staffing the tourism office with a non-English speaker who doesn't know whether hiking Mt. Pirata is safe and acceptable (the guidebook said to ask, as the rules governing access to the former military property are ever changing). But hey, it was too hot to hike anyway!

More later about the trip...


*except for the depleted uranium left from years of Navy occupation, testing and war games.

Life on a Desert Island

I am preparing to take a little vacation to the island of Vieques, Puerto Rico. A grown up, women-only adventure with two of my best pals. In reviewing our itinerary, we discovered that it will be touch and go for us to make the 4:30 ferry from Fajardo to Vieques, and if we miss it we have to wait until 8:30. So we decided to streamline our transition from airport to ferry by packing everything we need for a week in carry on luggage.

At first, I thought this would be easy. My last trip to PR was a family affair, so there were books and blankets and toys and stuffed animals, oh my! When I visualized the essentials for one adult woman, it seemed like a little backpack would do it. HA!

Challenge #1: the snorkle gear. I really want to bring my snorkle gear, because: I'm cheap and don't want to rent gear, I'm averse to putting things in my mouth that have been in other people's mouths (not a fork/water bottle/ ice cream cone sharer, this one), and my poor snorkle gear hasn't seen water since January 2007.

Challenge #2: hair that really, really hates humidity. Or loves it, depending on your perspective. If you've seen the episode of Friends where Monica's hair morphs into a Diana Ross mega-fro, you understand. Not too long ago, I discovered the miracle of hair products, and not just any products. Through many years of experimentation I have the perfect 1-2-and sometimes 3 step process to keep my hair more or less in check, if not always styled. I am seriously not a high maintenance person - no hair dryers, no mani/pedis...but I gotsta have my leave-in conditioner and curl enhancing mousse, and these things don't come in travel size.

Challenge #3: Books. I am looking forward to plowing through a few, and maybe doing some writing and sketching. Books are heavy and they take up space. This could be a deal breaker.

So this has become a bit of an exercise like those quizzes "what would you take to a desert island if you could only bring five things." Today my travel mates and I will engage in the final negotiation around this. Stay tuned...

Politics + Family = KAPOW!

I came across this story online today that makes me feel ...not better exactly, but not alone anyway. From my own political alienation from my parents to my frustrating exchanges with the "young patriot," I know that I take these differences to heart. This election I've wisely steered clear of political discussions with my parents - but I think this is only possible because of the miles between us and the relative lack of contact. Frankly I think politics and religion (or the mess that happens when the two mix) are too important to ignore, and if I only talk about these issues with like-minded folks how will we ever sort it all out? But while I still take it personally there is danger that relationships will be damaged. So that's the task at hand.

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/27365905/

PORN is not LOVE

Burton Snowboards recently launched two board lines for men, the “LOVE” and “PRIMO” lines, which have rankled the ire of advocates for women, children, and the mentally ill. The PRIMO line features graphic depictions of self-mutilation; gruesome step-by-step images of making common hand gestures (peace, #1, etc.) by removing the unneeded digits. This line is condemned by mental health professionals and others who work with people who engage in self-harming activities, often times as a result of traumatic experiences like child sexual abuse.

The LOVE line is a collaboration with Playboy, and features images of nearly-nude women – apparently actual 1970’s Playboy pictorials. The bottom deck of the boards is adorned with a woman’s naked ass. The product description reads:

"Hi. My name is Love™ and I’m on the market for someone who’s looking to score serious action, no matter where they like to stick it. I enjoy laps through the park; long, hard grinds on my meaty Park Edges followed by a good, hot waxing. Whether you’re hitting it from the front or the back, my mid wide shape, supple flex, and twin tips like it kinky. Keegan and Mikkel love riding me, I hope you will too."

 

Yup, porn, from a business that claims to put innovation at the forefront. That’s right, porn, from an allegedly woman-friendly, Vermont-based business, whose co-owner Donna Carpenter has stated that the “overall mission at Burton is to be the brand of choice and an employer of choice for women and we see those two as very closely related. The more women we have driving the business and holding leadership roles the more we are going to appeal to women as a brand.” I couldn’t agree with Donna more, but I am confused by the approach Burton has chosen.

Burton has been unwilling to engage in dialogue, aside from brief, trite statements about artistry, blah blah blah, issued by email. So I brought my daughter Lily to her first protest rally at the Burton factory last Thursday. It was a beautiful, crisp Vermont autumn day. Protesters gathered in a park before walking the short distance to Burton headquarters. Burton let us know we were permitted on the first 3 feet of their property, which turned out to be a cattail-filled ditch. So we stood on the edge of the road, spread out 100 yards long. Organizers and speakers addressed us from the opposite side of the road, with a handful of Burton employees and/or supporters standing at the periphery. Cars and delivery trucks passed through the protest at regular intervals. But even with these less than ideal circumstances, the spirited group accomplished the goal of drawing attention to this gap in Burton’s social responsibility.

We heard from Mark Redmond, director of Spectrum, a nonprofit youth services organization that recently removed itself from a partnership with Burton aimed at getting youth involved with snowboarding (the Chill Program). It can be hard for nonprofits to stay true to their mission in the face of shrinking resources, so I commend Spectrum for their courage and integrity. Turns out others feel the same way, as individuals and businesses (including the Alpine Shop in S. Burlington) have come forward to donate equipment and passes so Spectrum’s youth can still get on the slopes this winter.

We invited someone from Burton to come speak with us, but aside from a silver-haired guy lurking behind the air exchange unit on the roof of the building and maybe this guy –

 

 there was no sign of an official Burton presence.

I think it was a great experience for Lily, and it felt good to me to finally take some concrete action. I’ve been talking to people individually and even trying to engage with some young Burton fans on a Facebook group page, but it’s been frustrating and disheartening to hear the ignorance and entitlement of some young men today. I think the march was as much about sending a message to Burton as it was to create a sense of community for the people working to hold businesses accountable for their $$-driven choices.

This Burton thing has been dominating my life of late. I recognize that this is a tiny drop in a huge bucket of corporate and media objectification of women, but it was a drop that landed in my backyard, so I felt compelled to get involved. I could write lots more – about how this isn’t about free speech, it’s a matter of judgment, integrity and social responsibility; about how you can’t get much LESS cutting edge than 70’s porn images; and about how there’s nothing comical about self-mutilation. But I need to put this to rest for a bit and spend time with my family! Speaking of which – I really love my husband, for how he “gets it,” for how he puts up with my obsessions and supports my passion about this issue. There is hope!