So This Is Christmas...

There's nothing like spending 62 straight hours with the craziest members of your family in West Texas to put you right in the Christmas spirit. Seriously. Nothing screams "Jesus is the reason for the season" more than the undercurrent of age-old tension between family members as it's hashed out over long hours in the kitchen, last minute trips to the Midland Park Mall on Christmas Eve an hour and a half before it closes, and while dressing to go to Christmas Eve church, because really, divine intervention is the only way we all made it out of that mall alive. And you can tell it's REALLY gotten good when the cat doesn't even want to be in the house with all of you. Fortunately, we all survived, and might even get together to do it again next year, minus the cat.

During the midnight candlelight service at my church last night, I had a couple of hours to contemplate my interactions with the people who were sitting next to me in the pew who I've been told share my DNA. In retrospect, I feel as though I can sum it all up in the one comment I made to my mother halfway through the liturgy "You're lucky I like you, because you're sitting entirely too close to me." Lest you think I truly dislike my family, I don't. We're just really good at annoying each other, particularly during the holidays when we actually have to have face to face interactions. Add in the fact that our family dynamic has been thrown off by the glaring lack of rational testosterone in the house since my dad passed away, and you have a recipie for a loud, opinionated and painfully blunt Honduran holiday. My mom fusses too much, I stay out too late and smell like a bar when I finally come home at 4 am, my aunt is... well... my aunt, and my cousins always break something important when they come to visit. Like when they broke the toilet at Thanksgiving that led to the hasty bathroom remodeling that was completed the day I got home for Christmas. Thankfully, deep down, we all at least like each other a little bit to allow ourselves to sit entirely too close to one another, and a holiday wouldn't be the same without all of us together. Or at the very least, they're providing excellent fodder for my first book.

So here's to my crazy family, and our successful Christmas. I think I need a drink.

Anything you can do, I can do better

Just in time for the launch of Me 2.0, MSN has featured a really enlightening article about the chic-ness of stress in our society. The article makes an interesting point about how it's become a status symbol to be more stressed out than everyone you know. Old people complain about their health problems, with one person's arthritis being unbearably worse than another's gout or emphysema. For everyone else, it's who slept the least, who worked the longest hours, who has seen their family the least...

Sure, misery loves company, but really? Everyone I know in the working world has a busy life with many demands, worries, and obligations. I know very few men and women of leisure. On top of that, despite the amount that we all complain about the load each of us has to bear, most people will admit that they'd be bored to tears without their active, albeit hectic lifestyles. We like our lives most of the time. So why do we bitch so much? Do we ever stop to think about what all this complaining does to our mindset in general? Are we so insecure that we have to find validation in something so petty and unimportant as our perceived workaholic tendancies?

So again, in my attempt to be a person of action, I'm going to try to stop complaining about my misfortune of having a well paying job that occassionally expects me to work a little. I'm also going to limit my exposure to those who feel compelled to complain excessively about their equally well paying jobs. I understand letting off a little steam over a drink after work, but those conversations should never last more than about 20 minutes after you've left the office. Let it go. I'm starting to realize that, the more time I spend complaining about work, the less time I'm spending actually enjoying my life. And whose fault is that? After all, I'm told it could be worse - I could be unemployed. And that would stress me out.

My Diatribe on Voting

Today's political headlines are absolutely driving me nuts. "African American Turnout Will Determine Election Outcome", "Unmarried Women May Be Key Variable In Election". Crap. All of it. Polls. Total crap. Even when I was drinking the campaign Kool Aid, I didn't believe any of it. Polls are numbers, and you can make numbers say anything you want them to. Think about it - polls exclude most people in our generation because we don't have land line phone numbers listed in a phone book. How the hell can they be accurate?

Know what I think the truth is? We're ALL the key variable on Election Day. If we've learned anything in the last 6 years, it should be that every single vote counts. Sadly, the ones that count the most are the ones that are never cast. Elections are won and lost, causes live and die, and our American way of life is trampled by apathy.

Hopefully you've registered to vote. If you're registered, there's no good reason not to take the time to drive a few blocks to your local polling location on Tuesday. Or even better (especially if you happen to be fortunate enough to live in Montomery County, Maryland), vote absentee so you don't have to worry about dragging yourself out of bed next Tuesday morning to stand in line for way too long to mess with some dumb machine that is somehow more difficult to use than a Palm Pilot.

If reason escaped you this year and you're not registered to vote, do something to make up for your laziness and volunteer. You don't have to pick a party or a cause to volunteer for, but find some local organization that does something worthwhile, like drive the elderly and disabled to the polls. And whether you're registered to vote or not, encourage everyone around you to exercise their civic duty. It's time for us to give a damn about the things that really matter in the world around us.

Rush Limbaugh is an ass

How pathetic of a human being do you have to be, after receiving the benefit of the doubt from society in general about your own personal drug addictions, to go on national radio and mock the effects of someone's debilitating disease and question their intentions in supporting research that could lead to cures for other people facing the same fate? That's right up there with pushing your grandmother into oncoming traffic.

"He is exaggerating the effects of the disease," Limbaugh told listeners. "He's moving all around and shaking and it's purely an act. . . . This is really shameless of Michael J. Fox. Either he didn't take his medication or he's acting."

Really, Rush? Because the highlight of MY day would be getting to pretend that I have one of the most frightening degenerative diseases I can think of that will eventually leave me unable to care for myself and a prisoner of my own body, all while my mind remains virtually intact. That sounds like a blast.

Michael J. Fox has the right to support whatever political candidate he wants to for whatever reason he wants to. I think there are worse political platforms in the world that you could lend your name to than one that could lead to medical breakthroughs for people battling these horribly destructive conditions. I'm a pretty big believer in karma, and I'd hate to see Rush Limbaugh's comeuppance for this one.

bah humbug, and the other socially unacceptable things I say

Well, it's been a little while since I've hopped on a soapbox, so despite the fact that I probably should be working, I think I'll take some time to wax poetic about my opinions that I know you were dying to hear.

So I'll just say it. I don't really like Christmastime. It's not that I don't believe in God or good tidings or snowflakes or any of that fun stuff. I actually love Christmas carols and egg nog and the Santa hats, and going to the Christmas Eve service at my church at home might be one of the highlights of my year since I get to see so many people from my childhood and adolescence for that giddy, once-every-365-days, tell-me-everything-you've-been-doing-lately conversation. Christmas Day is fantastic because I usually eat myself into a food coma, take a nap, go to a movie, then come home and eat some more. But the actual Christmas season has been completely ruined for me by the marketing morons who think it's appropriate to encourage America to get a "jump" on their holiday shopping in September. When Christmas displays start coming out before Halloween, I get itchy, cranky, and can't wait until January gets here. I don't want to see Christmas candy or lights or nativity scenes or sales until AFTER Thanksgiving. It's just obscene.

And here comes the real Scrooge in me... I hate buying Christmas presents. And it's not that I don't like doing nice things for my friends and family, or that I'm so ridiculously cheap and self centered that I don't want to spend money on the people that I love. It's more the insult that (and this is so cliche) our capitalist society is setting an expectation that forces me to go out in the freezing cold (since I usually don't get back to Texas any sooner than two days before Christmas, and there's no way in HELL I'm setting foot in a mall then), find parking, fight through throngs of cranky shoppers and screaming children, and dedicate myself to the mission of sifting through destroyed racks and display tables to find the perfect gift that will be tons of fun to unwrap but will probably never be used until the office White Elephant party comes up NEXT Christmas, at which time my gift will be pulled out of the back of someone's closet, rewrapped, and regifted to Bertha, the secretary down the hall, all while thinking in the back of my head about the guy I passed on the street who is wrapped up in two holey flannel jackets with no gloves on who I refused to give a quarter (that's another topic for another day and another blog). Or even worse, the little kid somewhere in Southeast or in West Philadelphia who DEFINITELY isn't getting Christmas this year, and whose mother isn't exactly sure where tomorrow's breakfast is coming from either. When I think about all of these things combined, they lead me to the conclusion that Thanksgiving is certainly my favorite holiday because I get to have all the family, friends, good cheer, and food I can handle without the specter of materialism blowing in and raining on my great mood.

Because I'm attempting to become a person of action rather than a person who sits and bitches, I decided a couple of weeks ago that I'm not buying Christmas presents this year. I was sitting in my kitchen on Saturday night movie night having a conversation with a friend about this year's Christmas gift list when we discussed the idea of contributing to a charity instead of wasting money on things our friends don't need. So I mulled the idea around in my head for a couple of weeks, but wasn't able to really think of a good, quality charity that I would want to donate my Christmas present money to that would really capture the entire spirit of what I want to accomplish, not to mention someplace worthwhile that will spend my money on good things.

That is, until today. I read a heartwarming human interest piece about an organization called "Ways to Work". They provide grants and low interest car loans to low wage earners with at least one child in the household to help secure a dependable car that will get the person to and from work. Their statistics are amazing. Work absenteeism among loan recipients is down 92%, transit time to work is cut by 91%, and more than 25% have been able to attend job related training that they wouldn't have been able to attend without their own car. I have to say, that's one hell of a step up for someone who is barely living paycheck to paycheck wondering how on earth they're going to pay their utility bill next month.

In the spirit of goodwill to all people, I'm going to celebrate Christmas this year, just like I do every year. I'm still going to go to all the Christmas parties and bake and eat and have a fantastic time. I'll share the cheer and be merry and love everyone around me. I might even have a little Christmas party of my own. But I think I will feel a little less guilty about conspicuous consumption when instead of spending my money on other people who are just as blessed as I am to have enough creature comforts to get us by, I try and do something to help give another person a legitimate hand up into the world. Because isn't that what it was all supposed to be about anyways?

How to contribute

An Open Letter to Gropers Everywhere

I yelled about this for a long while last night, and I thought that was going to make me get over it, but it didn't, so now you people get to listen to me.

Gropers, grabbers, pinchers, and other perverts of various and sundry persuasions, listen closely. It is NOT, I repeat NOT okay to walk down a street and grab, stroke, fondle, or otherwise handle any body part of any other individual. Ever. If you need to reach out and touch someone, touch yourself, but leave the rest of us alone. Even better, seek some professional help. It's not a funny tic or a silly sort of game, it's frankly disgusting and demeaning and makes the person on the recieving end of your bullshit want to rip your hands off, douse them in gasoline, and set them on fire.

And to the piece of shit who grabbed my ass in Dupont Circle last night - if I ever see you again, I sure hope your scary ass girlfriend who thought you were so funny last night is there to protect you, because you'll be half the man you used to be once I'm done with you.

A Life Well Lived

I remember a June morning about 3 or 4 days after school let out. My dad got me out of bed early, fed me breakfast, brushed my hair, and then took me on a little road trip. Governor Ann Richards was visiting West Texas for the day, and my all knowing father decided that even if I didn't have a full grasp on what she was doing, I should probably meet her anyways. Since my favorite game at that age was 40 Questions (a variation of 20 Questions that I don't think I ever quite grew out of), my dad spent the majority of the car ride explaining to me all the important things Governor Richards had accomplished. At the time, I didn't understand what all the fuss was about. I didn't understand why it was such a big deal that a former housewife and school teacher had been elected governor, because my parents always told me that anybody can be anything that they want to be. I didn't understand why it was such a big deal that she was the first governor to appoint minorities and women to so many important positions within the Texas government, because my parents always told me that intelligence isn't based on a person's race or gender. I didn't understand why it was such a big deal that she stood up for people in Texas who other people didn't want to defend, because my parents always told me that you have to help those who might not have the means to help themselves.

What I did understand was that Ann Richards was incredibly witty and unendingly kind. She gave a short speech that day, and even though I don't remember what she said, she was plain spoken enough to make me laugh. And even with a room full of people to meet and mingle with, she still took 5 minutes to stop and talk, not to my father, but to me. She had an enormous impact on me that day, and I feel so fortunate that I actually had a chance to tell her that. I met Ann Richards again while I was working in Austin at the House of Representatives after college. Even though I know she couldn't possibly remember meeting one little snot nosed kid all those years ago, I wanted her to know that her ideals had influenced me, and that she really had helped set a path in one person's life.

Ann Richards passed away yesterday afternoon after a battle with esophageal cancer. While it's saddening to think that such an important part of recent Texas history is gone, it's hard to dwell the death of someone who lived such an inspirational life. Regardless of your politics, it's impossible not to admire her courage, her spirit, and her example to women everywhere that you really can do it all.


September 14, 2006

Ann Richards, Ex-Governor of Texas, Dies at 73

By RICK LYMAN

Ann W. Richards, the silver-haired Texas activist who galvanized the 1988 Democratic National Convention with her tart keynote speech and was the state's 45th governor until upset in 1994 by an underestimated challenger named George W. Bush, died Wednesday at her home in Austin. She was 73.

Ms. Richard died, surrounded by her four children, of complications from the esophageal cancer, the Associated Press reported.

Ms. Richards was the most recent and one of the most effective in a long-line of Lone Star State progressives who vied for control of Texas in the days when it was largely a one-party Democratic enclave, a champion of civil rights, gay rights and feminism. Her defeat by the future president was one of the chief markers of the end of generations of Democratic dominance in Texas.

So cemented was her celebrity on the national stage, however, that she appeared in national advertising campaigns, including one for snack chips, and was a lawyer and lobbyist for Public strategies and Verner, Lipfert, Bernhard, McPherson & Hand.

"Poor George, he can't help it," Ms. Richards said at the Democratic convention in 1988, speaking about the current president's father, former President George Bush. "He was born with a silver foot in his mouth."
Her acidic, plain-spoken keynote address was one of the year's political highlights and catapulted the one-term Texas governor into a national figure.

"We're gonna tell how the cow ate the cabbage," she said, bringing the great tradition of vernacular Southern oratory to the national political stage in a way that transformed the mother of four into an revered icon of feminist activism.

Dorothy Ann Willis was born Sept. 1, 1933, in Lakeview, and graduated in 1950 from Waco High school where she showed a special facility for debate. She attended the Girl's Mock State government in Austin in her junior year and was one of two delegates chosen to attend Girl's Nation in Washington.

She attended Baylor University in Waco — on a debate scholarship — where she met her future husband, David Richards. After college, the couple moved to Austin where she earned a teaching certificate at the University of Texas in 1955 and taught social studies for several years at Fulmore Middle School.
She raised her four children in Austin.

She volunteered in several gubernatorial campaigns, in 1958 for Henry Gonzalez and in 1952, 1954 and 1956 for Ralph Yarborough and then again for Yarborough's senatorial campaign in 1957.

In 1976, Ms. Richards defeated a three-term incumbent to become a commissioner in Travis County, which includes Austin, and held that job for four years, though she later said her political commitment put a strain on her marriage, which ended in divorce.

She also began to drink heavily, eventually going into rehabilitation, a move that she later credited with salvaging her life and her political career.

"I have seen the very bottom of life," she said. "I was so afraid I wouldn't be funny anymore. I just knew that I would lose my zaniness and my sense of humor. But I didn't. Recovery turned out to be a wonderful thing."
In 1982, she ran for state treasurer, received the most votes of any statewide candidate, became the first woman elected to statewide office in Texas in 50 years and was re-elected in 1986.

In 1990, when the incumbent governor, William P. Clements Jr., decided not to run for re-election, she ran against a former Democratic governor, Mark White, and won the primary, then later fought a particularly brutal campaign against Republican candidate Clayton Williams, a wealthy rancher, and won.
Among her achievements were institutional changes in the state penal system, invigorating the state's economy and instituting the first Texas lottery, going so far as to buy the first lotto ticket herself on May 29, 1992.

It was her speech to the Democratic convention in Atlanta, though, that made her a national figure.
A champion of women's rights, she told the television audience: "Ginger Rogers did everything Fred Astaire did. She just did it backwards and in high heels."

In 1992, she was chairwoman of the convention that first nominated Bill Clinton.
Two years later, she underestimated her young Republican challenger from West Texas, going so far as to refer to George W. Bush as "some jerk," a commend that drew considerable criticism. Later, she acknowledged that the younger candidate has been much more effective at "staying on message" and made none of the mistakes that her campaign strategists had expected. She was beaten, 53 percent to 46 percent.

Her celebrity, however, carried her onto the boards of several national corporations, including J.C. Penney, Brandeis University and the Aspen Institute.

She also co-wrote several books, including "Straight from the Heart: My Life in Politics and Other Places" in 1989 with Peter Knobler and "I'm Not Slowing Down" in 2004, with Richard M. Levine.

On her 60th birthday, she got her first motorcycle license.

"I've always said that in politics, your enemies can't hurt you, but your friends can kill you," Ms. Richard once said.

Survivors, according to The AP, include her children, Cecile, Daniel, Clark and Ellen Richards, and eight grandchildren