Family Tradition

Continuing the grand family tradition of pointing at Naked Emperors, my mother wrote a letter to the editor of our local newspaper. It is reprinted here:

Where’s the Outrage Over Current Events?

Why doesn’t anyone get really upset about the fact that our president has been “spying�? on us for four years? Why doesn’t anyone scream and shout when our president says, “Shame! Shame!�? to those who do get upset and who ask questions?

And why doesn’t anyone scream and holler or stage marches and protests when our president and vice president blatantly “change�? the law to suit themselves, classifying everything they do which is either unconstitutional, immoral or illegal as legal and within their powers?

Why doesn’t anyone scream and yell at the Supreme Court when our rights and protections are being systematically whittled away? Why doesn’t anyone scream loudly when our president praises an official for doing a “great job" when thousands of people were having their entire lives destroyed for at least 24 hours before that official even knew what was happening, and while the rest of the country and the world watched, agonized, and sent help and relief?

When is someone going to point a finger at the so-called “leader�? of the free world when he says it’s OK to torture captives and deprive them of human dignity whenever we want to? “Yes. We do that. But this is war!�? as if that justifies inhumane treatment of anyone!

Why doesn’t someone — anyone — stand up and say that it is terribly wrong, undemocratic, un-American, etc., for the president to launch an official investigation to find out who it was that “told on him�? by revealing that he’s been spying on us all since Sept. 11?

Where are all the elected legislators who took an oath to protect and defend us, our Constitution and our democracy? Where are all the “watchdogs" who usually are strong enough and brave enough to shout, “The emperor has no clothes!"

This generated a lot of response, some in support, some in opposition. One, in particular, really chapped my 16 year old son's ass. This is the offending letter.

Misplaced Outrage

The Jan. 13 letter from Saralou Caliri is a case of misplaced “outrage."

One can disagree with our president, but to be “outraged�? and suggest that we are being “spied�? on is just plain wrong. Nobody is spying on you unless you have relatives in the Mideast and get calls or call them regularly. So what if someone listens while you plan a birthday party or wish someone to get well, etc.?

On the other hand, if you are a terrorist, then you should object to someone listening!

International monitoring of calls from and to known terrorist states is absolutely necessary to get credible information and avoid another Sept. 11.

I don’t see anything wrong with our president officially investigating the “leak,�? either, because once the press knows about the program, then it’s no longer a secret. To be sure, we all are safer because of this program.

Finally, as to where our elected leaders are who took an oath to protect and defend us, you need to take a trip to D.C.

The address is 1600 Pennsylvania Ave NW. Be thankful we have a president who cares, and stop being “outraged�? because you disagree with some of his methods.

They have worked for us for over four years.

I was thrilled when my son sat down and wrote a response. It's more than I would have done at age 16. Of course I think he's brilliant (but I'm little biased.) Here is his response. I hope it is published in the local paper. Just in case it isn't, I publish it here, for posterity's sake. And to let his grandfather, who surely has internet and blog access in heaven, know that his lance and sword have been picked up and will be carried mightily and proudly.

Misplaced Nationalism

On January 20th I read the words of one Mr. Edward Nuti about "misplaced" outrage. He seems to have a case of misplaced nationalism.

First of all, how can one know if the only ones being spied on are those who have relatives in the Middle East? Unless you work deep inside the government, you can't know that. Furthermore, it matters greatly if someone listens to a conversation on the phone without either party knowing. There's a word to describe it: illegal. There's another word to describe it: unconstitutional (the 4th Amendment is an amazing little thing, isn't it?).

A terrorist should object to someone listening in, sure. But so should everyone else, because it is a violation of one's rights. Not only one's Constitutional rights, but one's natural rights. I'm not sure where this theory that you can protect a person's rights by taking them away came from, but it is folly in every situation. That's why every Authoritarian or Totalitarian regime eventually collapses; even faster than other regimes.

Furthermore, the theory the Bush administration is using to avoid another September 11 is leading to another McCarthy situation. Or even worse: Will we start to put all of our citizens of Middle Eastern descent into internment camps like we did with our Japanese citizens during World War II? If allow these injustices and gross violations of rights to continue, what will be left to seperate the CIA from the KGB? What will there be to stop the situation from eventually evolving (or devolving) into another Spanish Inquisition? By using the methods of the Bush administration, we remove the terrorist threat, but we create a Totalitarian threat.

And people, including Mr.Nuti, say they see nothing wrong with the investigation of who leaked the secret?!?! First off, it is extremely wrong to try to punish someone for reporting something illegal. If they hadn't done that, then they would be in trouble for aiding and abetting. So why would one try to find the person who did this in order to punish him or her? Secondly, the public is never safe when the government keeps secrets. What makes one safe is knowing everything about the situation. The government keeping secrets is unnecessary and wrong. In order for us, the public, to "do our part", we must know everything possible in order to make the right decision when the time comes.

Finally, I fundamentally disagree with the idea that Mr.Bush's methods have been working for over four years, but let's say they have been. That doesn't make them correct. Just because it's been "working" doesn't mean that it is the correct answer. The correct answer would work, and would not violate rights.

It is with that in mind that I urge everyone to lose any blind nationalism, and simply think.

Thank you

Middle Aged Delinquent

I’m a mom. I’m 47. I look it. I don’t belong on television; no one will ever say I look 10 years younger than I am. They might, however, say I act 20 years younger than I am. Or 30. Several weeks ago, in a fit of ennui while shopping in a self-styled entertainment store, I discovered a new pastime.

First let me explain “self-styled entertainment store". This is a store that can’t decide what it wants to be. Is it a music store? Well, it sells music, yes. Is it a book store? Well, it sells books, yes. Is it a computer game store? Well, it sells computer games, yes. It sells musical instruments; it sells stereos and alarm clocks; it sells t-shirts; it sells incense; it sells bumper stickers; it sells soft drinks. It does none of these things very well.

I have experience in this: I managed bookstores of various types for more than 10 years. I know how to do it. I know when it’s good, and I know when it’s bad. I can translate that to other types of retail establishments. Face it, it’s not rocket science. This particular establishment concentrates on the musical merchandise, so the books, which are my first love, get sadly ignored.

As I said, I was feeling a bit of ennui while I waited for my 18 year old son to finish his shopping, and I was browsing what they were trying to pass off as a book department. It truly was pitiful. It was obvious from the condition of the books that this department never got any attention from the staff of the store.

With glee, I motioned my son to come over. “Let me show you how to have fun in a bookstore, honey." We placed Ann Coulter's book and Tucker Carlson's book inside The Cosmo Kama Sutra: 77 Mind Blowing Sex Positions, simply because the thought of Ann and Tucker fucking was just . . . well you think about that for a minute. See? eww. Take a minute to wash your brain before continuing.

We mixed books on politics with books on religion; the two things you should never mix, right there on the shelf! There happen to be a fairly significant number of pagan titles in the store, thanks ,I believe to a few friends who used to work there. (At this point I must add, when they worked there, the store was not the mess it is now. If they're reading this they know exactly the store of which I write.) It was delicious to move Bucklands Big Blue Witchcraft Book next to the Bible. Something that in all my years of bookstore management, I was unable to do for fear of backlash from fundy customers.

But one act captured our imaginations more than any other. It is brilliant in its simplicity, really. We removed Mike Savage's book from its dust jacket, and turned it upside down and backwards - so that it reads right to left. Brilliant. I told my son, “Someone will buy this, and then return it because they will think it’s a publisher’s defect.�? Anyone who has worked in a bookstore knows this is true. That was several weeks before the holidays.

Several weeks later, we returned to this exalted establishment because the aforementioned 18 year old son was jonesing for more music. We checked. The book was still there - and it still reads right to left! We couldn’t help ourselves. We had to fix some other right-reading books the same way. I think we might have almost been busted; I saw an employee headed our way. He heard the long-haired hippie looking boy (my son) laughing in that way that only 18 year old boys can laugh when they are up to no good. But whew! Saved by the Mom! McManager could hardly believe that plump little middle aged me would be up to no good. Either that, or he could not bring himself to approach me. Especially since he could see we had a stack of at least $100 worth of merchandise in our hands to purchase.

As I paid for our stuff, I wondered if I was teaching my son a bad lesson. After all, we were “messing" with other people’s property. Immediately, my internal rationalizer kicked it. We didn’t hurt anything. The books were not damaged. They were not stolen. For anyone smart enough to get the joke, it really was rather funny. And if someone was not smart enough to get the joke, then it might just get under the skin of a right-wing nut job. The thought of that makes my day.

I thought about my days as a bookstore clerk and manager. How would I feel if I found a joke like that in my store? Well, I'm smart enough to get the joke. I’d laugh pretty damn hard, and wish I’d thought of it myself.

As we left the store, my son declared, “That was great! It didn’t hurt anything, but it makes a point. A point that hardly anyone will get!!"

I've raised him well. He practically cackled with glee. “We should go to other stores and do this!" I pointed out that one reason we were able to do this was that in this particular store, they pay very little attention to their book section. He countered that in most bookstores, the shelves are pretty high, and it could be done with just a few books. Just to make a point - that hardly anyone will get. But it will be worth it for the ones who do get it. So - bookstores on the east coast, be warned. All those right-leaning books may soon be right-reading books, too. Courtesy of a middle-aged delinquent and her son.

You Watch This, Kiddo

This was originally written in the Summer of 1996, during the Democratic Convention.

It was the summer of 1968. I was poised on the threshold of the fourth grade. It was exciting - I was no longer a “little�? kid. My father said that I was “8 years old, going on 40." Perhaps because of this he decided I was old enough to watch the Democratic Convention with him. That was an exciting convention, but I don’t remember any of the speeches. I really don’t remember any of the rioting that marred and interrupted that convention. What I do remember is staying up way past my bed time.

And mostly, I remember my father.He laughed. He swore. He cheered. He leapt to his feet.

My father - cheering! Leaping to his feet! This man, a respected, dignified attorney (attorneys are dignified; lawyers are not - but that’s another story for another time), cheering and swearing and laughing and coaching the “players" on the television as if they could hear him! He is the most logical, intelligent man I have ever known. I’d seen him angry, I’d seen him argue passionately - I’d even seen him weep - he was always a sucker for Mary Poppins - but I had never seen him cheer or leap to his feet.

It was the roll call. After the nominating and seconding speeches, anticipation filled the air. You could feel it. I could feel it, and I didn’t even know what it was.

“This is it, kiddo!" he said. “This is what it’s all about. You watch this." I watched.

“Madame Chairman (even then, I wondered how you could be “madame" and “chairman" at the same time), the great state of Alabama, home of Billy Joe Bobby Sue Melonhead’s Equestrians on Ice, the only state in this great country that comes first alphabetically, (etc., . . . ad infinitum. . .) PASSES!"

My father roared with laughter. “They always do that, " he told me, one conspirator to another. I smiled, not quite getting the joke, but flattered that he thought me sophisticated enough to understand. “Oh", I sagely replied, and laughed with him.

The roll call continued. At that convention the roll call really was the deciding thing - the nomination was not a foregone conclusion as it is this year (1996.) Each state delegation had its turn to speak - and speak they did. The expounded on the unique features of their great state. They stumped for their own political candidates. They hooted and hollered and cheered. Sometimes, they argued. And, I don’t know how many times in reality, but in my memory, and in retelling around our dinner table, Alabama must have passed at least a dozen times.

Dad fought each battle with them, and kept his own running total of votes. As the roll call continued, he told me, “you see, they’re all just plain people. Like you and me." He explained the primary system and delegates to me with the passion of an armchair quarterback on Superbowl Sunday.

The totals continued to climb, and I will never forget this, when Hubert Humphrey was finally over the top, when there was no doubt that the nomination was his, Dad leapt to his feet, and cheered. If “the wave" had been invented then, he would have started one. And I was hooked. Even though I have tried to affect the jaded, cynical attitude of most of my peers, I am an unrepentant political junkie.

Like most armchair quarterbacks, Dad was secretly convinced that he could do a better job than the one he had just witnessed on TV. Not as a candidate, mind you - no. That is for politicians, and my father, honest and passionate about his integrity, never was and never will be a politican. No. My father knew in his secret heart of hearts that he could be the best delegate the Democratic Party had ever seen. (And yes, it was always the Democrats, never the Republicans.)

But he was a very busy man. With 5 children, a thriving law practice, the presidency of the local school board, and church involvement, he just didn’t have the time to get wrapped up in the party, so he went on with his life.

Every 4 years, he’d watch the convention. When I left home, first to go to college, and then to get married, we’d call each other, and watch together by telephone. (And yes, Alabama does always pass.)

Over the last 10 years, the conventions have become superfluous, self-congratulatory, over-choreographed sound bites. With the outcome decided months ahead of time, there is no real reason for the roll call. This year, Ted Koppel declared that they were not news, and left the Republican Convention early.

With all due respect to Mr. Koppel, and similar but not necessarily due, respect to my jaded peers, I disagree. The 1996 political conventions - particularly the Democratic convention - are news. Because my dad, who told me all those years ago: “This is it, kiddo," is there. (Even as I write this, I get chills.)

After years of cheering the process, and believing not necessarily in all the candidates but certainly in the system, my father is a delegate from North Carolina. I feel a sense of pride, and tell my friends: “I know you don’t want to watch it, but you might see my dad."

Tonight as I watched Vice President Al Gore speak, my mother called. She knew I’d be watching - because tonight was THE night. Tonight was the roll call. True to form Alabama passed. Because of how the vote went, the North Carolina Delegation was not polled before President Clinton was nominated. But when the Ohio delegation stood, and put Bill over the top, I cheered. I cried. I lept to my feet.

Since I originally wrote this, several conventions have passed, taking 11 years with them. My father is now watching from a different sideline, cheering the process and hobnobbing with his heroes - JFK, RFK, Martin, Adlai, Roosevelt, and the big guy himself, Jesus, who Dad assured me would be a Democrat if He had registered to vote. I’m sure Dad’s politics came from his faith - and his faith came from his politics.

Anyhow - I’m now so heavily involved in the local Democratic party that I cannot find time to stay in touch with friends and family until “after the election", yet for the past week, I've been emailing them and calling them daily to remind them that they had X- many days to register or change their registration to vote. Some of them are tired of hearing it from me. But I feel so connected to my Dad that I can almost feel his touch - and I cannot deny that I hear his voice at each local fund-raiser, at each event, telling me, “This is it, kiddo. You watch this."

Yup. Watch this Dad. You watch this.