tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67339629934138586092024-03-12T20:03:06.813-05:00Thinking in Peacesmamadelapazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08856527381169091320noreply@blogger.comBlogger7125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733962993413858609.post-838969249290409182022-05-25T13:14:00.001-05:002022-05-25T13:14:11.398-05:00Empty<p>I am feeling what can only be described today as generous emptiness. </p><p>Walking around in my day, in my room, in my head, through the leaning walls of my soul, around the jagged pieces of my heart and feeling almost nothing. </p><p>Last night, as we held our heads in our hands, in the moments between fixing our eyes on a screenful of horrific tales from Uvalde, there were so many feelings. </p><p>Horror at the violent end for 19 children and 2 of their teachers at Robb Elementary School.</p><p>Aching all over for every parent, sister, brother, grandparent, aunt, uncle who sat and waited, fearing or hearing the worst news imaginable. </p><p>Utter disbelief over our powerlessness to end such gun insanity in this crazy Land of the Free, Home of the Brave Little School Children. </p><p>Rage at the people offering insane responses during the early tragic hours of our collective grief. People like <a href="https://www.msnbc.com/rachel-maddow-show/maddowblog/school-shooting-texas-ag-paxton-calls-armed-teachers-rcna30444" target="_blank">Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton</a>. "Stay off TV..." we implored, shaking our fists and our heads. Do something. Anything. But don't take a TV interview. Not this night. Surely that brand of dispassionate stupidity could have stood in the wings at least 24 hours. </p><p>Then. The day numbness arrives. The brain too full of pictures and ponderings and Twitter yammerings. I wander zombie-fied from the cup of cold forgotten coffee to the yard to the desk to the washing machine to the mailbox. Back to the coffee. Cold. Like my insides.</p><p>It's as if there is something to be done, but I don't know what it is. Call one of my never like-minded GOP Congressfolk? Make cupcakes and drive 175 miles to Uvalde? Send a note to <a href="https://www.usatoday.com/story/sports/columnist/nancy-armour/2022/05/24/steve-kerr-not-herschel-walker-kind-leader-usa-needs/9919699002/?gnt-cfr=1" target="_blank">Steve Kerr </a>to sign up for any idea he has? Flowers/cash to <a href="https://www.statesman.com/story/news/2022/05/25/uvalde-funeral-homes-offering-free-service-after-shooting/9927569002/" target="_blank">generous funeral homes</a> in Uvalde? </p><p>Yesterday, before this news broke, I voted in Texas' primary runoff election. The ballot was short and uncomplicated, as ballots for democratic candidates in Texas often are. I felt light and happy walking out of the polling place, as I always do when I vote. Because I believe in change. I believe well-informed, determined voters affect change. I believe democracy works when people vote. </p><p>I believe. Mostly. </p><p>Sadly I do not believe we will ever change the probability of more tragedies like Robb Elementary School. This is not a natural disaster that disrupted a sunny school day - this is a choice. We choose, in Texas and the US, to elect people who love the jangle of NRA coins more than they love the idea of making sure guns of war cannot be purchased at your town's civic center or Walmart. </p><p>It makes me sick to type it. But we all know it's true. </p><p>If what happened 10 years ago at Sandy Hook Elementary School didn't wake the electorate up in advance of a Parkland High School, a Santa Fe High School, a Robb Elementary School... I honestly don't know what will. </p><p>I am empty. </p>mamadelapazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08856527381169091320noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733962993413858609.post-45555861776113552592022-03-13T19:11:00.003-05:002022-03-15T13:33:01.509-05:00S#*t Gets Real (Happy Spring Break)<p> My husband is a Boy Scout to the bone. Prepared. Ready for the worst case scenario - whether filling a suitcase for a whirlwind vacation, packing up gear to go camping, stocking a portable tool box for mountainside deck-building, or getting through the average day during a global pandemic. </p><p>Here he was in the mid-2020s - pre-vaccination, pre-KN95 mask saturation, smack dab in the middle of WTF-ery. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjnAa-rFw500U2LmB8XU6XvJxq1wHYAWSp_OcW2bUsZInhMIwOf8IPfgMW2CotP7iuItg5kUTs1fkErK8WJWYiyVay89o0sH7seZUvtJaLs09BgQbVqh57whkjJSIHF_kcz82B3S7DJjR_v-4TqzUbY4_NoTZdkeN6xMEVJ2STxi39M4diHjd6PW72Bhg=s798" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="798" data-original-width="704" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjnAa-rFw500U2LmB8XU6XvJxq1wHYAWSp_OcW2bUsZInhMIwOf8IPfgMW2CotP7iuItg5kUTs1fkErK8WJWYiyVay89o0sH7seZUvtJaLs09BgQbVqh57whkjJSIHF_kcz82B3S7DJjR_v-4TqzUbY4_NoTZdkeN6xMEVJ2STxi39M4diHjd6PW72Bhg=s320" width="282" /></a></div><br /><p>You can't see it, but there's a HEPA filter over the end of the tube of that full face, underwater snorkel mask. #PreparedMan. And yes - he wore that standout virus resister everywhere that wasn't here inside our super-sanitized, hyper-bubble-only home. </p><p>It worked. He did all the family errand-running in his "scoober" (as our eloquent granddaughter called it). I did curbside pick-ups, Door Dash ordering, and backyard distance-seated happy hour planning. We stayed well. When volunteers were requested for a Texas antibody study, we signed up for 3 blood draws. Last draw, PreparedMan's antibody numbers were low. Mine were high. We tried to figure out what the numbers meant, to no avail. It's a study. They're figuring it out. We shrugged at our confusion and recommitted to mask wearing and take-out. </p><p>But here's the Boy Scout today - with the tired, fever-y eyes of a sick man. He has Covid-19. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiIyNeYdyYcFFsm8BNvc9bKzOXkvz7a0VvnqVc3Nq3jMRVl3kmVSrUacQbmYrjVaubhULzdfc8t9RaksUkQbg2lLjzRDB8HiHEgYhC3mX4gTYG0bm25NgG6RfNx2mxxoe8zTFLph4_afJ8u9c2jgn_KIea1kzlnegHbg1V-3xolhSxus5trjB2GfPlI5w=s4000" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiIyNeYdyYcFFsm8BNvc9bKzOXkvz7a0VvnqVc3Nq3jMRVl3kmVSrUacQbmYrjVaubhULzdfc8t9RaksUkQbg2lLjzRDB8HiHEgYhC3mX4gTYG0bm25NgG6RfNx2mxxoe8zTFLph4_afJ8u9c2jgn_KIea1kzlnegHbg1V-3xolhSxus5trjB2GfPlI5w=s320" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p>Damnit.</p><p>I had plans this week. People here. Me there. That kind of thing. Now, here we sit - isolating inside our home, wearing masks, texting one another from one floor to the other - waiting to see how awful his fully-vaccinated symptoms are going to get. Wondering if we'll be making the 60-mile drive to the monoclonal antibody infusion clinic.* Rewinding decisions made last week and asking the big questions - how, where, who? </p><p>Our guard is decidedly down. In February, we took a 10-day, 3,000 mile road trip. We ate homemade picnics in the car, made infrequent stops, attended vaccinated-only events with masks on, saw only fully-vaccinated friends. We didn't get sick. But last week, the ever-ready man took his first business trip of the pandemic. On a plane. Four days in a different city. On a plane again. Home one night. Sick. </p><p>Trust me when I say, this Covid s#*t is not over. It just isn't. No matter how much we want it to be. </p><p>Friday, in my 590-thousand person county, 58 new Covid cases were reported. </p><p>Over the last 7 days, the average new case count was 65. Five people died from Covid. In my little county.</p><p>In our 332-million person country, 44,358 new cases of Covid were reported YESTERDAY. </p><p>1,684 people died. Y-E-S-T-E-R-D-A-Y. For a current events perspective grabber, about 285 Ukrainians died <i>yesterday</i> in the war with Russia. (The US estimates <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/world/2022/mar/11/russia-ukraine-war-numbers-casualties-refugees-aid">2000-4000 Ukrainians</a> have died since Russia invaded the country on February 24.) </p><p><b>965-thousand Americans</b> have been counted dead from Covid-19 since March 2020. You likely don't need to be told we've had wars that have lasted longer than this fight with a virus (two years). But it's the virus that's managed to take the most <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_States_military_casualties_of_war">American lives</a>. </p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Civil War - 655-thousand dead</li><li>World War I - 116-thousand dead</li><li>World War II - 416-thousand dead</li><li>Korean War - 36-thousand dead</li><li>Vietnam War - 58-thousand dead</li><li>Iraq War - 4.4-thousand dead</li><li>Afghanistan War - 2.3-thousand dead</li><li>9/11 - 2.9 dead</li></ul>I am fully vaccinated. I think everyone in America - not just <a href="https://ourworldindata.org/covid-vaccinations?country=USA">65.7%</a> - should be fully vaccinated. But banging that drum hasn't worked, so I'm not swinging my sticks at that point. <p></p><p>I'm just here to tell you, with absolute certainty, we are not finished with Covid-19. Keep your masks on. Wash your hands. Have the sanitizer handy. Stand 6' back from one another in line at wherever it is you think you must go. Eat/drink/be merry on a patio. Be careful.</p><p>You might have fared better in a war. Any war. </p><p>It is not over. It's coming for us all, apparently. Even my Boy Scout. </p><p><br /></p><p>*The MAB infusion drive/drip has happened. Here's hoping.</p><p>Update: Each day is better than the one before. So all's well. Thanks vaccinations/booster, monoclonal antibody infusion, and masks! </p><p>Must say this about the photo below. I am grateful to have a World Citizen/Leader for president right now. So grateful. But dang it, 79-year old man, PULL UP THAT MASK! It's not over. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjPhyFZn1e2LHL4zIzYS2rvOtpWDBWdtdvXM6BiLRPcKrooDQ70r1N13YWilCmBz_gjI6XNH3veKm3Gr5j9u2pdA7qDsA1JUK0te-oIm-enMH4sShd8Z7onFiZlvkbYWqCmC6_IXLXVHXmNpRrax6Yv9i_pZN2_y6LARh3RSI7BBw2yFzyakgRRN2eWwA=s719" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="696" data-original-width="719" height="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjPhyFZn1e2LHL4zIzYS2rvOtpWDBWdtdvXM6BiLRPcKrooDQ70r1N13YWilCmBz_gjI6XNH3veKm3Gr5j9u2pdA7qDsA1JUK0te-oIm-enMH4sShd8Z7onFiZlvkbYWqCmC6_IXLXVHXmNpRrax6Yv9i_pZN2_y6LARh3RSI7BBw2yFzyakgRRN2eWwA=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>mamadelapazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08856527381169091320noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733962993413858609.post-19672775397400191162022-03-11T18:51:00.000-06:002022-03-11T18:51:39.932-06:00Give Beets A Chance?<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEizJfzHgkfEfSBUQu_YFqGOZB2onsYK-Mjgt6OI65uwFWt3uiE2n4Ly2oJ8d2qdl_tWPGfVQ_AQlK2hOoSFWk6EoaR0d9JCFsDoACNwzQH4c1xhcAVfBrTPkl8rjxw_lVbU7VTh09XbKmwuq_Na0cjPo9PVAaLe7Hm884mJdEV9kBHoMyE9PbMQbJDtiA=s612" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="407" data-original-width="612" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEizJfzHgkfEfSBUQu_YFqGOZB2onsYK-Mjgt6OI65uwFWt3uiE2n4Ly2oJ8d2qdl_tWPGfVQ_AQlK2hOoSFWk6EoaR0d9JCFsDoACNwzQH4c1xhcAVfBrTPkl8rjxw_lVbU7VTh09XbKmwuq_Na0cjPo9PVAaLe7Hm884mJdEV9kBHoMyE9PbMQbJDtiA=s320" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">Every compassionate human I know is fighting despair this week. </span></div><p></p><p>We are suddenly international peace thinkers on alert - we study <a href="https://www.tripsavvy.com/maps-of-eastern-europe-4123431">maps of Eastern Europe</a> on our laptops, <a href="https://twitter.com/mrsahuquillo/status/1493280099034140676?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw%7Ctwcamp%5Etweetembed%7Ctwterm%5E1493280099034140676%7Ctwgr%5E%7Ctwcon%5Es1_&ref_url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.fastcompany.com%2F90728020%2Fputin-giant-table-internet-meme-war-russia-ukraine">retweet memes</a> of Vladimir Putin, and search our closets for <a href="https://www.cnn.com/2022/03/01/politics/ukraine-support-congress-clothing/index.html">anything yellow. Anything blue</a>. We read. We watch <a href="https://youtu.be/ywdtmpK_AP0">documentaries</a>. We <a href="https://www.cnbc.com/2022/03/09/heres-a-list-of-top-rated-charities-to-help-the-ukraine-relief-effort.html">donate money</a>. We propose to know what's going on, what needs to be done, what looks like a win, and what looks like an immeasurable loss. </p><p>The more I think I know about Ukraine v Russia, the more I know I don't know. Every time I dig in, I uncover something that requires 15 additional Googles to understand. Where, I wonder, was my attention in 2014 during Ukraine's <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Revolution_of_Dignity#:~:text=The%20Revolution%20of%20Dignity%20(Ukrainian,capital%20Kyiv%20culminated%20in%20the">Maidan Revolution</a>? Why, I ask my husband, can I not answer your question about the fairness of <a href="https://www.oscepa.org/en/news-a-media/press-releases/press-2010/international-observers-say-ukrainian-election-was-free-and-fair">pre-Maidan elections</a> for Ukranians? What, it is impossible to fathom, kept me from learning about 1941 <a href="https://theconversation.com/a-brief-history-of-babi-yar-where-nazis-massacred-jews-soviets-kept-silence-and-now-ukraine-says-russia-fired-a-missile-178574">Babi Yar</a> from a teacher or a parent? How, it seems prudent to imagine, does Vladimir Putin respond when he's <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2022/03/03/us/politics/biden-putin-sanctions.html?unlocked_article_code=AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACEIPuomT1JKd6J17Vw1cRCfTTMQmqxCdw_PIxftm3iWka3DODm4ZiPkORJCH_0bRZKF4INEy0zmdAcdcLL4pAed7yORDPktrUE-ovp6A0twjEhkClLiSDCkwzo6fGvcx6yPrZW20b-5yzubi4kLZdWnpXKDA1SEmdxI28pthaQ3-iiMIwKuWErEi2sJsnqt0XuAMTjkCYSiIuvfrGk8-bI3ANkeAn1FwD-JJWjjTnsqe6aYDc2hQCFHHT3B46QUs-Y8WeYNXbOukcUlWKIepiq4RC2doMI6vG5UyIoHWnL9qurLGwgeeb6mzzgZp7mRDFATt5rqGCw&smid=url-share">cornered by the world</a>? </p><p>So much angsty despair for people on the sidelines of this war/these headlines/an internet exploding with things to see that we cannot un-see when we close our eyes at night.</p><p>I have been honored to be in three peace-pondering conversations this week. One with a group of brilliant theologizers/writers/preachers/activists whose words have been illuminating. They have offered light-on-the-path kinds of words that don't brighten the day enough to change the forecast of tragedy, but light up enough to help me wander into the dusty corners of my brain and re-think some assumptions. I am always grateful for those lanterns of wisdom.</p><p>The second has been with a tour guide who drove me around Moscow one Spring day in 2013. My husband and I had made a quick trip to see our son play music on two Russian stages. With only one day in Moscow, we decided to hire Ivan (not his real name) to show us around the city. Ivan, like every other Russian we met on our trip, was kind and generous and very eager to share the magnificence of Moscow. I initiated an email with Ivan late last week, mostly to check on his safety, but also to see if I could find out what news he was hearing about Ukraine. He was quick to respond, and has continued to respond to my replies this week. Regardless of my push toward opening our minds together, and thinking beyond our Western/Eastern media biases, Ivan professes great admiration for Vladimir Putin and 100% skepticism of Western "fake news." Neither of which make me less fond of my Ivan memories. It just makes me sad. For all of us.</p><p>Then came the third conversation. Today. About borscht. A text from a friend telling me of her friend serving borscht today in Poland. To Ukranian refugees. A guy who had planned to be hiking Patagonia this week, but decided to re-think his itinerary so he could lend a hand to <a href="https://wck.org/">World Central Kitchen</a>'s work on Ukraine's border. </p><p>200 gallons of borscht, in case you're curious = </p><p>100 lbs beef + 200 lbs potato + 8 gallons pickles + 10 lbs horseradish + 40 lbs sauerkraut + 1 lb salt + 50 lbs beets + 20 gallons water</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjjAP-sTKBer3V_sPrADhzPCeBnBxQQ5hAfVGnsrFMzwF6uPX7x2Jr8fDfkZw7JfcUBUm3R2iFC2x77CNVcFYrZoUdVrfd6vLcnG4zRkm6gRJbRUxutko-VX8HisHmqYsYoeJmdFiHGMiPIXYGw9CsZWpFvYCN_VD3C-73SJc6Az69fHfnFt10jcmBByQ=s1600" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjjAP-sTKBer3V_sPrADhzPCeBnBxQQ5hAfVGnsrFMzwF6uPX7x2Jr8fDfkZw7JfcUBUm3R2iFC2x77CNVcFYrZoUdVrfd6vLcnG4zRkm6gRJbRUxutko-VX8HisHmqYsYoeJmdFiHGMiPIXYGw9CsZWpFvYCN_VD3C-73SJc6Az69fHfnFt10jcmBByQ=s320" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p>If you are among the despairing in the USA this week, send an email to the smartest person you know. Expect a response that will challenge you to think a little harder about people and politics and peace. </p><p>Also... make a <a href="https://www.seriouseats.com/hot-borscht-beet-meat-soup-recipe">pot of borscht</a> in honor of the Ukranian people and all humanitarians who are showing up to serve them. </p><p>Yes, America, we can eat beets. We are the world. We are all Ukranians. </p>mamadelapazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08856527381169091320noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733962993413858609.post-354294419522355532021-03-21T22:22:00.067-05:002022-03-10T11:22:20.793-06:00March 21. Selma.<p>This is the town... </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KOXeBLhTaRo/YFfduKYv9QI/AAAAAAACM_0/iPArd-iEvOohdOe4XOVwglCUy2nUhHs0gCLcBGAsYHQ/s1035/selmablog12.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="889" data-original-width="1035" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KOXeBLhTaRo/YFfduKYv9QI/AAAAAAACM_0/iPArd-iEvOohdOe4XOVwglCUy2nUhHs0gCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/selmablog12.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>That wanders a river...</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-thF5kELwWvw/YFfd6Wksl3I/AAAAAAACM_8/1hwrD9vZMbQpjBPdaM4QxfiBBpO_X2QqACLcBGAsYHQ/s1560/selmablog8.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="770" data-original-width="1560" height="317" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-thF5kELwWvw/YFfd6Wksl3I/AAAAAAACM_8/1hwrD9vZMbQpjBPdaM4QxfiBBpO_X2QqACLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h317/selmablog8.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>That "boasts" a bridge... </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-946k6wPf0ck/YFfePZF2tZI/AAAAAAACNAI/z_xz0aYSI7wLJkHR4LlXm2NuA2T9F8_8ACLcBGAsYHQ/s1187/selmablog9.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="890" data-original-width="1187" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-946k6wPf0ck/YFfePZF2tZI/AAAAAAACNAI/z_xz0aYSI7wLJkHR4LlXm2NuA2T9F8_8ACLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h300/selmablog9.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">That carried a movement...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">That changed a country...</div><p></p><p>You likely know about Bloody Sunday on the Edmund Pettis bridge. March 7, 1965. The day 600 marchers left the Brown Chapel AME church in Selma, Alabama and walked, by twos, six blocks to the middle of the road bridge stretching across a wide swath of the Alabama River. You probably know a 25-year old <a href="https://www.npr.org/2021/03/05/974035873/for-the-first-time-in-56-years-a-bloody-sunday-without-john-lewis">John Lewis</a> was at the front of the line of marchers who set out to walk 54-miles of rural highway to the steps of Alabama's capitol building where demonstrators hoped to meet with then-Governor George Wallace to talk about voting rights for Black Americans. </p><p>You surely know the group was met by a force of law enforcement that stopped the march in its tracks with billy clubs, dogs, and tear gas. 17 people were hospitalized that day. Almost 60 were injured - beaten back by police the entire 6 blocks from whence they came. Yep. The whole six blocks. </p><p>But it is on <i>this</i> day - two weeks post-Bloody Sunday - marchers actually made it across the old Edmund Pettis. On <i>this</i> day - March 21, 1965 - an exponentially growing crowd of people left the Brown Chapel AME church steps, and began the tough journey that made good on March 7th's promise: <i>We Shall Overcome</i>. They made it across the bridge because they were protected, on this delayed day of determination, by federalized law keepers sent by President Lyndon B. Johnson (it seems no matter how many times he was petitioned, Governor Wallace would not agree to protect the demonstrators). </p><p>So, stop a minute and think about this march beyond what you know of March 7. Jump forward two weeks (admittedly it's a leap-frog of other important Civil Rights history worth knowing and pondering). </p><p>But today - on <i>this</i> historic anniversary - think with me about what went down on March 21, 1965. </p><p>Three thousand people began a 5-day walk along a rural Alabama highway that day. They went to church first, because it was Sunday - just like it is today. If you study the old photos, you can see people were dressed in their Sunday clothes - ties, hats, dresses. Not in their "walk-54-miles-over-5 days" REI hiking gear. They were wearing their shiny shoes, not their Nike Airs. They had pocketbooks over their shoulders, not Yeti lunch coolers. A few had bed rolls under their arms, but more had American flags in their hands. They were not texting one another about the weather or pit stops or dangers ahead. They were just walking. For voting rights. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-C8ySbHdb8YI/YFfinxMlDcI/AAAAAAACNAU/5NtR61oyY7AJSpehIj0FDFFzHyamYvsfACLcBGAsYHQ/s527/Selmablog7.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="298" data-original-width="527" height="362" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-C8ySbHdb8YI/YFfinxMlDcI/AAAAAAACNAU/5NtR61oyY7AJSpehIj0FDFFzHyamYvsfACLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h362/Selmablog7.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">March 21, 1965<br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br />The weather turned rainy and cold that first day. Many turned back to Selma. But at the seven mile mark, the group still numbered in the hundreds. They stopped and camped under four big tents erected on the property of a Black farmer named David Hall. <p>Monday morning - Day 2. The weather warmed and the highway narrowed to two lanes. Only 300 marchers were allowed to continue. They walked three abreast in one lane of the highway, while cars continued to travel in the other. They walked that way for 16 miles. Camp was made on the property of a 78-year old widow named Rosie Steele. Food was delivered in trash cans by volunteers from Selma. </p><p>On Tuesday - Day 3 - a light morning drizzle became a downpour that lasted 11 miles to camp stop #3, a muddy field on the property of Robert Gardner. Marchers wrapped themselves in plastic sheeting as they walked, and cozied into that plastic as they tried to sleep in a muddy field. </p><p>Wednesday - Day 4 - also began with drizzle but warmer temperatures. Mud-caked marchers had another 16-mile day ahead. Much of that day's journey was on wider road, and all day long buses and cars dropped off additional marchers. By the time the sixteenth mile wound around to the grounds of St. Jude's Catholic hospital, the group was 10,000 strong. It was a jubilant night of great welcome and care. It rained. Again. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6ABEPFnURxs/YFfplDCgRfI/AAAAAAACNAw/J54X0dxGNHsz1GruEMNd6IeZ8mfOqnh3wCLcBGAsYHQ/s640/ffe95bd1-a61c-4555-83ab-f30107e53fc2-MGMBrd_03-01-2015_SpecialBrd_1_G011__2015_02_28_IMG_jude01.jpg_1_1_BAA1U9PC_L570610527_IMG_jude01.jpg_1_1_BAA1U9PC.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6ABEPFnURxs/YFfplDCgRfI/AAAAAAACNAw/J54X0dxGNHsz1GruEMNd6IeZ8mfOqnh3wCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h480/ffe95bd1-a61c-4555-83ab-f30107e53fc2-MGMBrd_03-01-2015_SpecialBrd_1_G011__2015_02_28_IMG_jude01.jpg_1_1_BAA1U9PC_L570610527_IMG_jude01.jpg_1_1_BAA1U9PC.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Thursday - Day 5 - the last four miles. By the time the march for voting rights reached earshot of Governor Wallace's office, there were 25,000 people behind the original, long-walking team. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. spoke words of victory and encouragement. People cheered the accomplishment. No one breached a hallway or scaled a wall. And...Governor Wallace never appeared.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A0AHn_6N-j8/YFfsnowODyI/AAAAAAACNBA/Mx2xRhBDi4gkzF7swdwWIjrT1iARCHRegCLcBGAsYHQ/s670/Selma-Protest-March-at-Montgomery.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="377" data-original-width="670" height="360" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-A0AHn_6N-j8/YFfsnowODyI/AAAAAAACNBA/Mx2xRhBDi4gkzF7swdwWIjrT1iARCHRegCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h360/Selma-Protest-March-at-Montgomery.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But five months later, on August 6, 1965, President Johnson signed the Voting Rights Act into law. I encourage you to <a href="https://millercenter.org/the-presidency/presidential-speeches/august-6-1965-remarks-signing-voting-rights-act">watch his speech from that day</a> - with this warning: If the word "Negro" offends, it will be a squirmy 21-minutes. Still worth watching. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">More significant, though, is the video footage compiled from the march. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://youtu.be/BFhcR362RyE" style="text-align: left;">If you can spare 17 minutes</a><span style="text-align: left;">,this one could change you. It's sure to help you remember this day and this movement. <i>And </i>these people: The people who walked 54 miles in their Sunday clothes because they knew and believed the truth of these words: </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y2UUIZFOU_k/YFfr2_F-i9I/AAAAAAACNA4/9rhjr180SiAeTAB6dHS31ved5qg4UgjfgCLcBGAsYHQ/s741/61IoegqLvRL._AC_SY741_.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="741" data-original-width="510" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y2UUIZFOU_k/YFfr2_F-i9I/AAAAAAACNA4/9rhjr180SiAeTAB6dHS31ved5qg4UgjfgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/61IoegqLvRL._AC_SY741_.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p style="text-align: left;">If you don't understand the significance of the Voting Rights Act of 1965 and can't bother to care too terribly much about the <a href="https://www.salon.com/2021/02/27/republicans-roll-out-tidal-wave-of-voter-suppression-253-restrictive-bills-in-43-states/">250 pieces of legislation</a> making tracks in state legislatures right now that would make it more difficult for Black people, people of color, and young people to vote, I have two words for you: </p><p><i>White Privilege. </i></p><p>Honestly - I've never had to care much about the history of March 21, 1965 or the <a href="https://www.history.com/topics/black-history/voting-rights-act">Voting Rights Act</a> of 1965 or why it's important for people to be able to vote on a weekend. Or by mail. </p><p>But I took a trip a couple of years ago. It began in Selma. </p><p><br /></p><p><i>I went to Selma in 2019. I drove - didn't walk - the 54 miles to Montgomery. It was the beginning of a self-made tour of Civil Rights sites, museums, and memorials that changed my life. Every single day, my husband and I would get into our car - usually crying - and asking each other, HOW DID WE NOT KNOW? If you'd like to make a similar journey, I'd be happy to share our itinerary. </i></p>mamadelapazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08856527381169091320noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733962993413858609.post-91234773182643779022021-03-09T18:57:00.000-06:002021-03-09T18:57:02.496-06:00It's Grief<p>It's been a week of realizing our grief, hasn't it? Recounting the days before and after. Telling the stories that begin, "Last year at this time."</p><p>We do this when we lose people we love. I call them the Walking-Through-Jello days of grieving that include the phrases, "Last week at this time..." and "Last month I was..." and "Remember their birthday last year?" These days are followed by the still-grieving conversations that gather around the words, "A year ago we..." </p><p>Many - so, so many - have lost people they love to COVID-19 over the last 12 months.</p><p>526,815 families in the United States have buried at least one person who was not supposed to be taken away by a virus. That's an average of 1,443 deaths a day for 365 days. </p><p>2.6 million families across the globe have done the same. </p><p>45,837 families here in my home state of Texas have said unexpected goodbyes - 124 of them today. </p><p>The rest of us have simply lost days and months and now a full year of an ease of movement we never really knew gave us such joy. The ability to meet friends for an easy restaurant dinner. The chance to catch a quick movie with a sibling. The dash to a grocery for an onion and two potatoes. The warm hug from a grandchild, parent, favorite neighbor. My son. </p><p>Around here, our lives have been only minimally disrupted for most of the last 12 months. One year ago today, I unpacked the bag I'd so brilliantly layered with 3-weeks worth of necessities for a Tuesday morning, March 10 departure to Paris. I posted this photo on Instagram with the caption: <i>See you in September, Paris!</i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pRX1jBFfZRw/YEgWqUhRr4I/AAAAAAACMck/RgETWLza-X0wwmY0rTsL_8IwrO9iQu9tQCLcBGAsYHQ/s890/Screenshot_20210309-184348_Photos.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="890" data-original-width="863" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pRX1jBFfZRw/YEgWqUhRr4I/AAAAAAACMck/RgETWLza-X0wwmY0rTsL_8IwrO9iQu9tQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Screenshot_20210309-184348_Photos.jpg" /></a></div><p>It was to be my first trip to The City of Lights and many lovely places beyond. We'd clung hard to the notion that to go was not irresponsible, and even if it was - so what?! The worst that could happen was we'd be waylaid. In Europe. Boo hoo. </p><p>The Louvre had closed on March 1. That was a splash of cold water on our determination to depart as planned. But then it re-opened two days later. Here are a couple of sentences lifted from a <a href="https://www.forbes.com/sites/tamarathiessen/2020/03/02/paris-louvre-reopens-amid-coronavirus-fears-france/?sh=56eb732e5cc3">March 2 piece</a> about the early angst at the Louvre. The words sound so strange now. </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: left;"><i>After a long meeting between staff on Wednesday morning, at midday the Louvre tweeted it would again be open. Joy to the hundreds of tourists queuing up outside (many of them sporting masks) waiting on the outcome of the rendezvous. Workers had demanded the museum stay closed Sunday and Monday, in a bid to protect themselves against the snowballing COVID-19 threat. </i></p></blockquote><p>We thought we'd press a very quick pause on business-as-usual, didn't we? </p><p>The World Health Organization declared COVID-19 a global pandemic on March 11.</p><p>The Louvre closed again on March 13. </p><p>It re-opened on July 6. </p><p>It closed yet again on October 30. It is still closed. </p><p>This yo-yo of hoping and rescheduling, planning and rearranging, embracing and cursing, making peace and longing...it has taken a toll on everyone. </p><p>Just like grief. </p><p>Last year on this day, I unpacked a bag and postponed a great trip for 6 months. </p><p>Then, in early September, the tickets were pushed to April. </p><p>Today they were turned into credit.</p><p>Tomorrow, on the anniversary of the day I was to depart on an extraordinary adventure, I will receive my 2nd Moderna shot, then I'll come home and quietly wait the prescribed 2-weeks before easing my way into something like a "new normal."</p><p>And that's the way grief goes. Nothing is ever quite the way it was. </p><p>So be kind. To yourself and to others. </p><p>Last year at this time, many of us were not grieving. Today, we very much are. </p>mamadelapazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08856527381169091320noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733962993413858609.post-51559264754971321612021-03-05T21:47:00.001-06:002021-03-05T21:47:39.513-06:00Texas - You Can't Have It!<p>We had dinner last night with our friend who devoted months of his life a decade and a half ago to balancing a career he was called to and a passion he could not resist. The first was a job with the State of Texas, the second - everything Alamo. The San Antonio native let his facial hair go wild, his boots go muddy, and his family go husbandless/fatherless during weekends and evenings, all to play the role of Extra #57 in the 2004 movie you've probably seen at least once - <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nR1aQcaXZw4">The Alamo</a>. It was something from his bucket list. </p><p>Friends - you have now met a true Texan. He is not a crazy person.</p><p>We have other people in our lives who used to send "Happy Early <a href="https://www.tsl.texas.gov/ref/abouttx/secession/2feb1861.html">Texas Secession Day</a>" greetings to everyone in their address book during the holidays instead of Christmas cards. You know - in case we forgot our streaks of <i>We're-Biggest-and-Best</i> Texan thinking. They are not stupid people.</p><p>Our favorite native Texas singer-songwriter has a tattoo on his leg - an outline (nothing more needed) of Texas. He is not a nut-job.</p><p>Not to go unmentioned, of course, is the fact that I have two sons - one named for the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stephen_F._Austin">Father of Texas</a>, one named for a <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_B._Travis">26-year old lieutenant</a> in the Texas army who died at the aforementioned Alamo. </p><p>When my Father of Texas son married a New Jersey girl (what?) at a ceremony in (gulp!) Indiana not quite a decade ago - well, it was a given that I'd be wearing cowboy boots to complement my Mother of the Groom dress. </p><p>On my first trip outside the United States, it took me a while to understand that people asking me where I was from were looking for "USA" not "Texas"... </p><p>We Texans are just like this - proud, arrogant, and - well - apparently undeterred by reality. This last assumption comes to you courtesy Texas headline-makers. So, on behalf of a large percentage of 30-million people, may I say we once-proud Texans are tired of looking crazy/stupid/nut-jobby.</p><p>Texas Independence Day came and went this week with no clinking glasses of <a href="https://llanowine.com/">Llano Estacado</a> or <a href="https://www.garrisonbros.com/our-babies">Garrison Brothers</a>. In fact, the words "Texas independence" in the wake of our obviously foolhardy <i>independent</i> utility grid, really stuck in the throat. </p><p>We haven't felt this stupid since we gave the world <a href="https://www.dictionary.com/e/politics/dubya/">Dubya</a>. </p><p>In hindsight, I'd take one or two more like the affable, <i><a href="https://www.twincities.com/2010/02/09/bush-billboard-in-minnesota-miss-me-yet/">Miss-Me-Yet?</a></i> George W. Bush. Preferably in exchange for a Louie Gohmert, Ken Paxton, Ted Cruz, Rick Perry. Or for the latest Texas spotlight seeker - Governor Greg <i>pleasegivemeyourtrumpvotes</i> Abbott.</p><p>If you're a thinking person in Texas right now, your wince-face is probably tired. Like me, I'm guessing it's been painful to try to defend everyone else in the state from the trending goofballs on Twitter:</p><p>Masks do NOT give you Covid-19, Rep. <a href="https://www.cnn.com/videos/politics/2020/07/29/texas-louie-gohmert-positive-covid-19-raju-nr-vpx.cnn">Gohmert</a>. </p><p>"Lots of grandparents" will NOT give their lives to save the economy, AG <a href="https://www.nbcnews.com/news/us-news/texas-lt-gov-dan-patrick-suggests-he-other-seniors-willing-n1167341">Paxton</a>. Oh, and let Georgia, Michigan, Pennsylvania, and Wisconsin (any other state not yours) take care of their own business from now on. </p><p>First class tickets to Cancun are not within reach of steel workers, construction workers, pipeline workers, police officers, firefighters, waiters and waitresses, Senator <a href="https://twitter.com/tedcruz/status/1365436228938706952">Cruz</a>. </p><p>And no. Texans would NOT go without electricity for longer than three days to keep the federal government out of our business, former Governor/US Energy Secretary <a href="https://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/americas/rick-perry-texas-electricity-winter-storm-b1803820.html">Perry</a>.</p><p>And - damnit Greg <a href="https://www.dshs.state.tx.us/coronavirus/opentexas.aspx">Abbott</a> - we do NOT want people to take off masks and get back to feeding us our favorite food/pouring our favorite drinks/teaching our children/cavalierly filling our public spaces right now. We want vaccinations so we emerge from this pandemic, not the kind of stupidity that has us leading the 4th pandemic wave.</p><p>We also think you're despicable for <a href="https://www.cnn.com/2021/03/04/politics/abbott-migrants-covid-testing/index.html">blaming the spread of Covid</a> in Texas on immigrants. Especially after showing the country what an irresponsible leader you actually are. </p><p>And today you're out and about <a href="https://www.texastribune.org/2021/03/05/texas-greg-abbott-press-conference-social-media/">touting a bill</a> introduced in the Texas Senate that would end "a dangerous movement" to "silence conservative ideas and religious beliefs" on social media. In other words, per you, let's be on with the business of spreading specious lies that might keep people like you in charge. </p><p>Ugh.</p><p>Shut up, please. All of you. Stop humiliating us. Where's a woman with cowboy boots in her closet, sons named after Texas heroes, and a BFF with a tattoo of the state on his leg supposed to go? </p><p> Remember this? I know you and your conservative friends tweeting nonesense with abandon think you own it, but you don't. I speak for many Texans. We vote. We aim to let you know you can't have our state as soon as we can. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v0ICT_0WwVo/YELVW4Oqf8I/AAAAAAACMVY/Pmo0Q61ri6EZ200jJcYA_3KfuwsUJ9RRQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1200/1200x0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="786" data-original-width="1200" height="263" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-v0ICT_0WwVo/YELVW4Oqf8I/AAAAAAACMVY/Pmo0Q61ri6EZ200jJcYA_3KfuwsUJ9RRQCLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h263/1200x0.jpg" width="400"></a></div><p>In the meantime, I'd really like to put a single + digit inside this outline of Texas. Soon. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GD5SRoKlBgM/YELVnNAjWnI/AAAAAAACMVg/RsNDZHkQHC8BVyAJql2uXbAbV8RYTzgUACLcBGAsYHQ/s986/Screenshot_20210302-205341_WhatsApp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="947" data-original-width="986" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GD5SRoKlBgM/YELVnNAjWnI/AAAAAAACMVg/RsNDZHkQHC8BVyAJql2uXbAbV8RYTzgUACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Screenshot_20210302-205341_WhatsApp.jpg" width="320"></a></div><br><p><br></p><p><em style="background-color: white; color: #1a1a1a; font-family: Roboto, RobotoDraft, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br></em></p><p><br></p>mamadelapazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08856527381169091320noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6733962993413858609.post-40126034300077485422021-03-01T18:22:00.008-06:002021-03-02T01:32:02.406-06:00Deep in the Heart. Of Here. Now.<p>Hello new readers/old friends. Thanks for clicking 'round to this 12-year old blog. Take a breath. A good deep one. I was told by a lovely yogi years ago that Americans could turn their worlds upside down if they'd just stop 12 times a day and take a deep breath. Do it. At least take one. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ruH1p3htksA/YD15aRSFJeI/AAAAAAACMMI/0_VgaLfjLX0As-aG-SC8S25dTjGUKytxgCLcBGAsYHQ/s612/istockphoto-1024221102-612x612.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="503" data-original-width="612" height="164" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ruH1p3htksA/YD15aRSFJeI/AAAAAAACMMI/0_VgaLfjLX0As-aG-SC8S25dTjGUKytxgCLcBGAsYHQ/w200-h164/istockphoto-1024221102-612x612.jpg" width="200"></a></div><p> See? </p><p>Stop hurrying for a sec. This won't take long. I only want to tell you what happened at my 12th breath today...</p><p>I <i>unpublished</i> over 400 blog posts from this site. It was in the fidgety, wee, no-sleep hours of the morning. This was my rationale for archiving about 250,000 words at 3 AM (point of reference, the average adult novel is 70K-120K words long, so I ditched 2-3 novels - poof!): </p><p>1. It was time. I started writing here in September of 2008, with the express intent of directing people down a path of Hope - right behind Barack Obama. After that was done I was hooked, and found myself sitting at this blank Blogger page every day, believing people enjoyed my musings on the struggle to reach for better when things seemed - always - to be getting worse. Yep, that was true even in 2008.</p><p>2. I thought I was a novelist for about six years. Of course a lofty writer of literary fiction had no time to blog. Ugh...I am so very over that. Which is a story of embitterment best left on the pile of Regrets That Aren't Helping. </p><p>3. In all honesty, I dropped blogging almost completely in the darkness that descended upon us all in November of 2016. I had random posts about things that pissed me off (sooo many things), but who really wants/needs to read that? Those posts were the first to go this morning, and then like a purging maniac I dumped the rest. </p><p>So here we are. Post #1 of a re-birth of hope. Maybe. At least it's the new start of thinking in pieces/peaces. I'm intent, this time, on building a community. I will respond to comments and I will moderate meanness. I hope you'll end up engaging with others here. You will find this, eventually, on <a href="https://reader.substack.com/discover" target="_blank">Substack</a>, which seems to be a growing platform for writers and readers to meet up. Topics will be as wild and varied as in any good chat - things from The Kids Still Love Mario? to Shouldn't Politicians Tell the Truth?. </p><p>And anything else that Must Be Pondered. </p><p>If this piques your interest, here's what you might want to know about me:</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RN_mLeqR0kc/YD16TmRzw4I/AAAAAAACMMc/TInl1jQKDbg4MfCGFqyySptXiwwU9_K2QCLcBGAsYHQ/s899/Screenshot_20210301-172243_Bitmoji%2B%25282%2529.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="890" data-original-width="899" height="135" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RN_mLeqR0kc/YD16TmRzw4I/AAAAAAACMMc/TInl1jQKDbg4MfCGFqyySptXiwwU9_K2QCLcBGAsYHQ/w132-h135/Screenshot_20210301-172243_Bitmoji%2B%25282%2529.jpg" width="132"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">I'm younger than Elizabeth Warren but older than Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez. (I admire both!)</span></div><p>I'm a Texan. One of the cool ones who live in Austin, so try not to hold Ted Cruz or John Cornyn against me (ew!). We vote blue where I live. To tell you the truth, though, it's getting harder and harder to feel very happy about telling people I live in Texas. It's edging close to the feeling I began to have 20 years ago about letting people know I was a Christian. </p><p>I'm a "re-thinking it all" church lady. Another one of the Regrets That Aren't Helping. I doubt I'll ever darken the door of another religious place (could read palace in some instances) - though I often enjoy the company of spiritual people from a wide, inclusive circle of faith practices. These are some of the best conversations, and I'm especially enjoying the ones that begin with me confessing I don't give Deity a moment's thought anymore. </p><p>I'm a news geek. My first career was in news, and I've never really left that behind. In fact, it could be argued by people who've known me forever that I have always wanted to be the first person to hear about something so I could be the first to retell the story. Secret-Keeper is not my strength. Story telling is my passion.</p><p>I'm a Myers-Briggs <a href="https://www.16personalities.com/infp-personality" target="_blank">INFP</a>. An <a href="https://www.enneagraminstitute.com/type-2" target="_blank">Enneagram 2</a> (solid, dysfunctional 2). A <a href="https://www.horoscope.com/zodiac-signs/sagittarius" target="_blank">Sagittarius</a>. True Colors <a href="https://truecolorsintl.com/the-four-color-personalities/blue-personality-type/" target="_blank">Blue</a>. I take all of these narratives about me with the circumspect interest of a child discovering finger paints: Is this fun or is it just too messy to bear? Depends on the day.</p><p>I'm a person who writes/doodles/paints in a journal almost every day, sometimes for 3 or 4 hours. Sometimes 3 or 4 minutes.</p><p>I have a 20-minute yoga/meditation practice that I talk myself out of as many days as I practice. </p><p>I drink coffee black, full-bodied, super hot. I like martinis made with vodka and a generous splash of dry vermouth. Which somehow makes it a wet martini. Go figure. Extra olives. </p><p>My significant supporting roles in life are: sister, wife, mom, aunt, gramma, friend.</p><p>I don't like the sound of chewing, mansplaining, or water running. But I do love the sound of the ocean, kind words, and children giggling. </p><p>I'm the person who doesn't believe a small Black Lives Matter sign in her yard will ever be enough, and the neighbors will have to get over the 4'x14' banner on the lawn. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hliDmtzAYRo/YD163AolN6I/AAAAAAACMMo/CzteYWrQtOsw5vBTIy1onpucGHGenW8HACLcBGAsYHQ/s514/BLMbanner%2B%25282%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="514" data-original-width="472" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hliDmtzAYRo/YD163AolN6I/AAAAAAACMMo/CzteYWrQtOsw5vBTIy1onpucGHGenW8HACLcBGAsYHQ/w294-h320/BLMbanner%2B%25282%2529.jpg" width="294"></a></div><p>I am not easily persuaded to follow a crowd or group think. </p><p>I swear. Sometimes I can't avoid colorful language when I write, but I wouldn't say it's embedded in my work. That said, I must confess to shopping the domain name <i>theswearinggramma</i>. Thanks 2016-2020. </p><p>I love sunsets, conversations about things that matter, beautiful music, and the truth. You will never read anything here parading as fact that hasn't been checked and double checked. I was a journalist in a past life. I know how to fact check. Then again, so does Tucker Carlson. You'll have to trust me or fact check me, which will never be disrespected here. </p><p>I still want to be a Writer when I grow up. "Writers write," said a kickass author to me once upon a time, long ago. </p><p>So that's why I'm here. Again. Writing. </p><p>I hope you'll visit often, chime in, join the Community of Pondering as we think in fragments and pieces in a place where that is done respectfully. Peacefully. </p>mamadelapazhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08856527381169091320noreply@blogger.com2