Family

Dan Savage has an incredibly moving story about the day his mother died.

In In Defense of Dignity, he talks about how he watched his mother die, slowly asphyxiating under the dead weight of pulmonary fibrosis:

Suddenly, the doctor was at the door to my mother's room again. He waved me out into the hall. He needed a medical directive. Immediately. Her vital signs were tanking. If we were going to put a tube in her, and put her on machines that could breathe for her, it had to be now. Right now. So it fell to me to walk back into my mother's room, tell her she was going to die, and lay out her rather limited options. She could be put under and put on machines and live for a day or two in a coma, long enough for her other two children to get down to Tucson and say their good-byes, which she wouldn't be able to hear. Or she could live for maybe another six hours if she continued to wear an oxygen mask that forced air into her lungs with so much force it made her whole body convulse. Or she could take the mask off and suffocate to death. Slowly, painfully, over an hour or two.

It was her choice.

"No mask," she said, "no pain."

I urge you to read his account, especially if you live in Washington state, where they are considering Initiative 1000, a measure that would make it legal for physicians to prescribe lethal doses of medication to terminally ill patients.

I have a similar story albeit not so pretty.

My father had given me a proxy some years before he fell ill. He an I had a long history of butting heads but when it came down to it, it was because I was the one from his eight children that was temperamentally the closest to him.

It's why my father trusted me with his life or in this case, his end of life. He knew I'd fight for his right to die. He knew I'd stop anybody from forcing him into a life he didn't want.

Unfortunately he didn't know I would fail so miserably the first time around.

if John McCain wins this November, our country faces what I call "A Billy Carter Crisis". two reasons lead me to this conclusion: Sarah Palin's family and Cynthia McCain. John McCain looks like he loathes both of these women. Palin is the new Lyndon B., baby. and Cynthia McCain is the right's answer to Jackie O. though she wears a lot of red to evoke memories of the golden Reagan years.
anyway…

Todd Palin looks like new pop country. real mavericks like Johnny Cash or Merle Haggard would stomp kick his ass, but he has something to prove. if McCain wins, Todd will buy a cobalt blue Camero which he sets on forty-inch chrome rims. he will then proceed to pick fights with people like me over parking spaces. such antics will result in repeated butt whoopings for Todd. Sarah strikes me as the kind of woman who can throw back a few beers or snort a few lines, but never allows it to interfere with her goal of running the world. Todd will be so wasted that he uses the "red phone" to call Roger Clinton for advice. this, after he uses it to order Papa's Johns for some real goddamn Italian food. country does not always equal ignorant just as city does not always equal smart. everyone suffers some form of ignorance, but when your ignorance stems from close-minded greed rather than lack of experience or knowledge, disaster looms. that whole damn family gonna be an issue.

Can you believe that after Hillary Clinton's assassination remark, her campaign spinned the comment as an attempt by Barack to make her look bad? Yes, Hillary Clinton and all her boot lickers blamed Barack for the words she herself uttered on her own accord not once, not twice but now four times during the course of the campaign.

They blamed him for blowing the thing out of proportion and yet, as I've told many, many people since this happened HOW DARE YOU TELL US THIS IS NOT A BID DEAL! How dare you tell us that putting the words ASSASSINATION and BARACK on the same page is not cause for concern?

Well, the Huffington Post has an amazing chronicle of one of Michelle Obama's campaign stops. This is what happened :

She called on another supporter, whose voice quivered and broke with barely contained emotion as she explained how important it is to her, personally, that our country change course. She explained that she had just returned from Oregon where she campaigned for Obama and attended the 75,000-person rally by the river. She had noticed, she said, that the Secret Service had increased security dramatically for Barack Obama's rallies since the Phoenix rally in January.

The room collectively gasped and murmured, some aghast that these fears were being spoken aloud directly to Barack Obama's wife. Some nodded, concern and fear on their faces. Others shifted on their feet, displaying a range of emotions -- concern, discomfort with the topic, indignation.

This is not a pundit spewing or a campaign boot licker spinning. This was a common woman, who has volunteered to get the man she believes will bring change to this country. This is not a political expert lost in a moment of bobble-head theatrics but a real woman shaken by Hillary Clinton's words.

And yet, with the poise and class that Hillary nor Bill Clinton have, Michelle Obama told this shaken woman and the rest of the audience this :

David and Michael have the uncanny ability to read my mind. David and I hadn't spoken in a while and yet the day he posted this photograph, I was toying around with a new banner for the front page with another photo of "Barackelle".

Yes, I've Brangelinaed Barack and Michelle, so sue me.

The front page image hadn't changed in a while not only due to the surprisingly long primary we're experiencing but because I have to code that particular part of the page by hand.

Not anymore, and not a moment too soon.

I've been DYING to use our galleries more and to be able to create impactful front page posts on the fly. Now we can. The image is being pulled from the a photo gallery called "Banner Posts". As long as the image is 660 pixels, we'll be able to have the site automatically pull a new image when a new banner post is created.

Awesomeness.

And I'm happy to test it with not only the woman who is our presumptive First Lady; but my namesake. You see, my full name is Liza Michelle Sabater Tirado.

Not only that, but Michelle reminds me a lot of my sister-in-law Milly. I spent quite a lot of time during my pre-teens with my oldest brother and his then fiancee.

This is one of the most powerful speeches I have ever seen given (I was able to catch the whole speech in bits and pieces as people were reporting about it through YouTube) and it is even more powerful once read.

Why? Rudd enacts with this as law an acknowledgment that white privilege is founded on government policies that sought to make Aborigine Australians extinct.

Here's the quote :

The uncomfortable truth for us all is that the parliaments of the nation, individually and collectively, enacted statutes and delegated authority under those statutes that made the forced removal of children on racial grounds fully lawful.

There is a further reason for an apology as well: it is that reconciliation is in fact an expression of a core value of our nation - and that value is a fair go for all.

There is a deep and abiding belief in the Australian community that, for the stolen generations, there was no fair go at all.

There is a pretty basic Aussie belief that says that it is time to put right this most outrageous of wrongs.

It is for these reasons, quite apart from concerns of fundamental human decency, that the governments and parliaments of this nation must make this apology - because, put simply, the laws that our parliaments enacted made the stolen generations possible.

We, the parliaments of the nation, are ultimately responsible, not those who gave effect to our laws. And the problem lay with the laws themselves.

As has been said of settler societies elsewhere, we are the bearers of many blessings from our ancestors; therefore we must also be the bearer of their burdens as well.

Therefore, for our nation, the course of action is clear: that is, to deal now with what has become one of the darkest chapters in Australia's history.

In doing so, we are doing more than contending with the facts, the evidence and the often rancorous public debate.

In doing so, we are also wrestling with our own soul.

Full text after the jump

It's in moments like these that my love for dictionaries knows no end. Today is Epiphany Day. Here's what I found for the definition of epiphany :

epiphany |iˈpifənē| noun ( pl. -nies) (also Epiphany) the manifestation of Christ to the Gentiles as represented by the Magi (Matthew 2:1–12).
• the festival commemorating this on January 6.
• a manifestation of a divine or supernatural being.
• a moment of sudden revelation or insight.

DERIVATIVES epiphanic |ˌepəˈfanik| adjective

ORIGIN Middle English : from Greek epiphainein ‘reveal.’ The sense relating to the Christian festival is via Old French epiphanie and ecclesiastical Latin epiphania.

Now, I've repeatedly said here how even though I am an atheist, I am strongly attached to many of the catholic rites I grew up with. This has to do with what Joseph Campbell called The Power of Myth. I love mythologies, I love the stories humans have created and propagated through millennia in order to justify our existence.

I've been missing "Navidad en Puerto Rico" for a long time. It is the perfect social expression of our mulatto culture and mythologies and it's nothing, and I mean, nothing like Christmas in New York or anywhere in the United States.

In Puerto Rico we call today El Día de los Reyes Magos. It's the day catholics all around the world use to commemorate the Three Wise Men's visitation of the baby Jesus in manger in the middle of nowhere in Bethlehem. That's where the "manifestation of a divine or supernatural being" comes into play on this day.

On this day we kind of do what anglos do with Santa Claus. On the evening of the 5th, kids gather grass and water dishes for the three kings' horses. Parents put together candy with a little "ofrenda" of rum. "The magic revelation" happens when the kids go to sleep.

My parents loved to get their Reyes Magos on and would go as far as get coconuts and, in an unironic Monty Pythonesque moment, clopclopclop their way around the house while scattering the grass, emptying the bowls full of water and washing down a coconut candy or two with the "ofrenda" they had left out for themselves.

I tried doing the same for my kids but it just doesn't work out the same. For one, all the kids in Puerto Rico wait eagerly for Los Reyes Magos. Here in New York? Not so much. Not even american catholics celebrate the day!

Yet what I love and miss about los Reyes Magos is that it marks the half-point of our Christmas festivities.

Yes people, we Puerto Ricans have to do things differently, especially if it involves partying. In Puerto Rico we don't have 12 days of Christmas. We have 22 days.

I think unitedstatians have a weird sense of humor. How can you explain celebrating Labor Day on the last day of Summer?

In this household we are not typical americanos by any stretch of the imagination. As good slash-puertoricans, would rather be boogie boarding in Isla Verde than fighting the crowds at Sandy Beach. So we are going to high-tail it to the park and the museum for our last day together, to have some fun.

How are you spending your 'labor' day?

This is what, in theory, we have been doing for the past 7 days here in Puerto Rico. We have allegedly gone to the beach each day, played and enjoyed ourselves.

The reality is that, as part of the new working class, I have been squeezing in vacation time around my work schedule. I will blog about all the things I have been working on while here, but I just have to say that in spite of how difficult it is to have to work while being in a remote part of the island and alone with the kids, I am happy to be here. It's good to be back home.

My kids and I should be on our way to San Juan by 9am. We're staying at the vortex of civilization for almost 3 weeks. Can't wait.

I am going to be off the grid most of the day --although once we get to our vacation spot, I am going to make the most of my EVDO card. Let's see how it works in the part of PR where I am going --and no, I won't tell you where exactly I am staying --I'll turn it into a guessing game

So the controversial Cindy Sheehan is quitting her one-woman crusade, maybe giving up her citizenship in disgust and moving to Canada? Did her 15 minutes of political celebrity make her a heroine, did it serve life, liberty and pursuit of happiness for the American people, or just serve as spectacle?

"I have tried ever since he died to make his sacrifice meaningful," she wrote. "Casey died for a country which cares more about who will be the next American Idol than how many people will be killed in the next few months while Democrats and Republicans play politics with human lives.

"It is so painful to me to know that I bought into this system for so many years, and Casey paid the price for that allegiance.

"I failed my boy and that hurts the most."

Whatever her failures and disillusionment, is there anything better one individual struggling within massively failing systems could expect? Not according to the 1990 holistic system thinking movie "Mindwalk" (which btw is airing this week on Showtime channels if you want to catch it and think about it in this updated context). . .maybe save the system, save the world?

Actor Sam Waterson's answer, after starring in Mindwalk, was to lend his celebrity to Unity08, trying to reform the whole system through new interconnections rather than win-lose adversarial elections. Both Democrats and Republicans (who together "are" the entrenched political system) are naturally resisting and ridiculing him in these efforts, as they have successfully done to Sheehan, manipulating all the media they can dominate to keep systemic change from being taken seriously by real, regular, reasonable people going about their private business and wondering who can save them from what they have wrought.

I think (though Sheehan doesn't seem capable of such analysis) the opening trick we can't manage is thinking well enough to understand what "saving" the system even means, in such complicated plotlines populated with infinitely interdependent characters, aka the Real World. Making it do -- what? Making it work -- how? Making it serve -- whom? Because we fail at that, we fail at everything we attempt after that.

This morning my expert public policy eye spots a (rare imo) right answer in the New York Times business news, real analysis and insight for all those of us who puzzle over public schools and party politics, religious wars, et cetera and just can't understand why we keep doing all the wrong things wronger, regressing rather than progressing.

"Overbooking, Bumped Fliers and No Plan B"
by Jeff Bailey

The whole story is about aggressive and insulated data analysts crunching endless numbers to create operational models that are statistically attractive to their own part of the "enterprise" but unfit for human consumption, thereby infuriating regular, responsible people just trying to participate in the system in good faith, in their own private, statistically insignificant roles.

Necessity being the mother of invention, savvy front line folks experiencing the fallout have to cope somehow. They create practical workarounds at their own lowly level that seem to compensate the consumer reasonably well and thus protect the system from its own longterm self-inflicted wounds. But that in turn makes the analysts redouble insistence on THEIR strategies, further infuriating users and further hurting the systems's credibility, requiring even more creative counterprogramming and loss of respect from the people caught up in it all. More and more regular people wise up to the system's escalating adversarial shortcomings, thus making it all even worse. Finally the system becomes neither workable nor fixable at any level . . Dörner's Logic of Failure.
"Stuck in a quagmire . . ."
"Scant credbility. . ."
"People view [it] as not on the up-and-up"

. . .what psychologist Dietrich Dörner shows, is that the problem lies not in the world, but in our own world-view . . .most of us are too simpleminded, especially when it comes to anticipating future trends or interactive processes. We don't think about the implications and consequences of what we want, or want to do, with results that come back to haunt us.

Nevertheless, and contrary to many current claims, Dörner also argues that there is no secret formula or mental trick . . . to overcome complacency or over-confidence. The world always has been very complex, but as the ambition and scale of our intentions has increased in modern times, the malevolent implications and consequences of our simple-mindedness becomes more and more frequent and compelling. . .
This is a book that public policymakers, politicians, planners, and the general public desperately need to read. We are squandering our environmental capital and undermining our social capital because we are trying to do things, or avoid doing things, that cannot be sustained for very much longer. . .

Remember that Kansas town that got wiped off the map by a giant tornado? Its mayor just quit, said he would not lead the rebuilding effort, wasn’t temperamentally suited to that kind of system work with competing ideas about what to do and how to do it. The town council said oh, don’t quit, we’ll just consider that you’re on sabbatical to get your own family squared away and then maybe you’ll come back and lead us. We’ll just wait.

I'm writing this on Mother's Day, a day that is filled with joy and also bittersweet for this year my grandsons and granddaughter have been given their freedom, the freedom to live without fear, without danger, without verbal or physical abuse, without the scourge that drugs bring into a home, without hunger or wanting of a different life, a better life, a secure and safe life, a home to call their own, a bedroom in which to lay their heads at night and know the nightmare is over, that they are wrapped up in the bosom of the love of a family who will do everything in our power to show them it doesn't have to be the way it has been for so many years, that peace and freedom are theirs now, that they have a future they only dreamed of, that it has finally come, the day of liberation for them, a glorious day.

My son has been in a custody fight for his children for several months, it's been a difficult time but has come to a happy ending but it brings with it the pain of a mother who has lost her way and hope by those who have watched that she finds a better way.

I say bittersweet in the title because this Mother's Day is a day of hope and wonder, the hope of dreams lost coming true, the hope that we can turn away from drugs and alcohol, the hope that we will find it in us to reach further than a glass pipe or a bottle, the hope that we have it in us to do better for our children, the hope that we can save ourselves and thus save our children. That the we that once was my son and me becomes the we for my daughter-in-law as well.

Liveblogging NBC News:

She may have a fracture on the left side and may have something suspicious on her right side. Wednesday they went to the hospital. The cancer has returned and it is malignant.

She has had a battery of results. Her cancer is bad. It is confined in bone --he is saying it is a good thing.

When it goes into the bone it is no longer curable, it is only treatable. The tumor is small and that is why they are optimistic. John is saying that many patients go on to live for a long time. It is similar to what diabetes patients have to live with.

Elizabeth says the needed to talk to their family and the kids, The kids thought that it was cool for her to loose her hair the first time and are disappointed she may not go bald again.

She is saying that every cancer survivor goes through this. They know the ache on a side, that any symptom might be putting you into alarm mode. This is something that every survivor has to live with for the rest for their life. She doesn't forsee changing anything.

She is asymptomatic. Cracking the rib was a 'fluke'. Had she not cracked the rib, she would not have had the opportunity to catch the cancer.

The campaign goes on. "We are not choosing not to cower in a corner".

They are going forward. They are coming tonight to New York City to the DL21C event.

"I am immensly proud of this campaign ... Is this a hardship for us? ... There is nobody offering a more positive and delineated vision of where we can go on as a county. "

As someone who not only suffered as a child the trauma of a bad marriage but also the trauma of my parents awful divorce, my heart goes out to Andrew Giuliani. In an interview this past weekend, the always candid son of the Rudester, talked about the strained relationship he has with his father :

New York Daily News - Politics - Rudy's son: 'I got my values from my mother':

"I got my values from my mother," 21-year-old Andrew Giuliani told ABC in an interview quoted on "Good Morning America" yesterday, the same day the Daily News spotlighted the rift between the former mayor and his only son.

"She's a strong influence in my life," Andrew Giuliani said of his mother, Donna Hanover, seemingly drawing a contrast between her and Rudy Giuliani. "She's a strong woman."

As The NY Times aptly points out, Giuliani's children are nowhere mentioned on his campaign site, an omission that has not been missed by GOP contenders like Mitt Romney, who is vying for the conservative-est of them all.

But Giuliani, in trying to be hip has just declared to news wires that it's just a normal problem facing blended families : "I believe that these problems with blended families, you know, are challenges — sometimes they are," he said. "The more privacy I can have for my family, the better we are going to be able to deal with all these difficulties."

Yeaaaaaah. Riiiiiight.

Thing 1 spent all of last week at home, sick with the flu which got aggravated by his asthma. We spent most of last week as we did for years as homeschoolers : working on different things, watching videos, reading, doing arts & crafts projects, and getting into each others nerves.

I loved every minute of it.

I love being a mom. This is an admission that does not come easy to me. When I was in my 20s I fantasized of becoming a mother after 40. I thought that only after becoming successful as a writer and scholar, only after finding myself and who I really was supposed to be, that I would be ready to be a mother.

Then the condom broke. Twice.

I suspected I was pregnant with Thing 1 on a New Year's Eve because all the champagne I drank tasted funky and I had a hankering for olives. The funky champagne taste was new to me but not the hankering for olives. That had first happened 10 years prior when I first got pregnant.

I lived as fast and furious as any nerd with wild tendencies could. Yeah, I did my work at college but I also partied hard. This was the 1980s after all and sex, drugs and more sex were everywhere --notwithstanding the dawning of the AIDS era.

I have mentioned it before, that when I travel for panels or conferences, it takes me a few days to get back into blogging.

Day trips actually get to me more than transatlantic or transcontinental trips. At least I can sleep if the trips are more than 4 hours long. On short trips, I rarely get to rest --even at the hotel. I guess I am a creature of habit that is sensitive to change.

Which explains my kids comment from the other day.

When I travel I get "penalized" for my absence. I don't think The Kids mind my absences so much as their father who then ... ahem ... disappears during the evenings for the next few days after one of my business trips.

This changes the dynamics of evening reading since, due to his work schedule, that's become his one job in the evenings. And it's one job he usually does as I prepare for my second shift of work in my usual 10-12 hour work days.

promoted to front page by Lorraine
I hold the Democratic leadership's feet to the fire because I have loved this party for 40 years. I come from a time when liberal values and principles were the ripples on the river that ran over the basement of time, the bedrock principles that engendered pride when these words were spoke, I am a Democrat.

I come from a time when the very word liberal wasn't bracketed but was a driving force, I come from a time when women began to stand up and insist our voices were heard. When equality and justice were at the forefront of the national party, a time when we could hold in our hands the knowledge that we were the party, a time when the leadership fought for the Voter's Rights Act, a time when the leadership fought for the Equal Rights Amendment, when they fought for Roe v. Wade and said out loud and proudly that we were the party of choice.

Because much has changed over the past two decades and because the Democratic leadership was all that stood between this administration and us, the American people, when the leadership didn't do their job in protecting us, when the leadership concentrated more on being elected instead of enforcing our rights through denying the passage of such legislation as the Patriot Act and the Bankruptcy Bill, when the leadership consistently refused to say one word about the war against women, it was then that I started to look outside the party it has become to the party it can be, a more progressive party, a party that embraces its liberal base once again.

Just out of the blue Thing 1 said to me yesterday : "Mommy, did you hear the polar ice caps are melting?" Thing 2, who was nearby jumped into the conversation with a "Yeah, and supposedly the polar bears are dying because the world is getting warmer. Is it true mommy, is is true the polar bears are dying?" With misty eyes Thing 1 added, "And the penguins, mommy. Are they dying to?"

I wasn't surprised that my kids asked me these questions. I was surprised it took them so long.

All of my kids education, political or otherwise, is based on evidence. When we went to see the penguin movie, Happy Feet, I explained how the movie uses Mumble the penguin's oddyssey to talk about the UNification of Antartica (which happened in 1959) and the politics behind not recognizing global treaties.

Wikipedia, by the way, plays an astoundingly important part of these conversations.

Notwithstanding they know mommy does something with a thing called "politics" that keeps her tied to her computer and her blog, they rarely hear me haranguing them about the ills of the world. What they hear me talking about, at least during most of these conversations, is about facts. So George W. Bush is not a bad man : Categories of bad or good in people are problematic to me. Yet in his capacity as President (and leader and representative of the US) George W Bush has been astoundingly bad. And there's enough evidence to support the "GWB is a bad president" judgement.

Anyway ... Back to the kidlets.

A good piece on aging in America. The only thing I would add is that it is also imperative for older generations to respect their youth along the way, no matter how different and more American they may seem. True respect can only be born out of reciprocity.

Aging in a Foreign Land

New America Media, Commentary, Ngoc B. Lam, as told to Andrew Lam, Posted: Jan 10, 2007

Editor's Note: Growing old in America can mean growing more isolated, and that’s particularly tough on those whose home cultures stress strong family and clan ties. Ngoc B. Lam came to America in 1975 as a refugee and worked as an accountant for more than 20 years. Andrew Lam is a NAM editor and author of “Perfume Dreams: Reflections on the Vietnamese Diaspora” (Heyday Books, 2005).

FREMONT, Calif.--There's a Vietnamese saying: America is paradise for the young, but hell for the old, and how true it seems now that I'm in my mid-70s. America has all these products that cater to children: toys, movies, video games, theme parks. For the old there's only isolation and loneliness.

Vietnamese are defined by family, by community, and when you lose that, you lose a big part of who you are. In Vietnam I never thought of living anywhere else but in my homeland. You live and die where your ancestors lived and died. You have your relatives, your clan; you have your family, your temple.

Once we were bound to the land in which our ancestors are buried, and we were not afraid of death and dying. But in America our old way of life is gone. We were forced to flee after the war ended in 1975, and we have lived in exile since then. Today, my friends and relatives are scattered across the world.

January first is, of course, New Year's Day in the Western world. Most people really focus on the night before and are hung over and/or lazy on New Year's Day itself.

For me, January 1st is my grandmother's birthday. Were she still alive, she would be 104 years old. In reality she died ten years ago in 1997 at the very respectable age of 94.

My family tends to live a long time. Many live into their 80's and 90's and several have lived into their 100's.

My grandmother, was born Celia Luban in 1903 in the small town of Rezekne, Latvia. For more on Rezekne itself, please see a previous diary I wrote about my attempts to find my roots and to preserve one small part of those roots. Her parents were an ill-matched couple whose squabbles spanned generations. Dora (Dweira) Luban was born in the city of Dvinsk to a rabbinical family who had hit hard times. How hard? When Dora's brother, David, turned 13 he was sent off to South America to find his fortune because their parents couldn't afford to support him. Dora and her sister, Ida, were sent off to live with relatives who had an inn "outside of town." I am not sure which town that was. Perhaps it was the town of Rezekne this referred to because later it was in Rezekne that Dora married. That inn was ruined by pogroms, though our family was warned by the Latvians in time to hide so that we wouldn't be killed because we were Jews they happened to like.

I wrote a post about the good stuff that happened in 2006. Everytime I sat down to write about the bad and the ugly of last year, I'd become paralyized by the massive amounts of badness and uglyness that permeated the year.

There was the triumvirate of firecrotch (Lindsay Lohan), skanky chocha (Paris Hilton), and white trash poontang (Britney Spears).

Ugh Britney.

Anorexia became the new black with Nicole Ritchie it's standard bearer. Yeah sure, anorectics have been banned from catwalks across the globe what with four dead models sacrificied to the disease but when we still have a coked-out yet incredibly rich Kate Moss prancing around ... well ... no wonder it's still considered hot in Hollywood.

There was also the crazy whacked out Tom Cruise with his scientology slave Katie Holmes and their tethan child. And Star Jones. And Donald Trump. And Kid Rock and Pam Anderson.

But those are just the entertainment.

What about Darfur?
Do you remember the devastation of Lebanon?
Then there's the never ending carnage in Iraq.
And the immigration raids.

Do you know where habeas corpus went?

How about Mark Foley?
Ted Haggard?
Samuel Alito?

The thing is ... all of this is too abstract, too far away when compared to the death of my niece Lydia.

We've been so busy all morning we have not been able to even write a quick note about these fantastic news :

Dick Cheney's next grandchild will have two mommies, to the horror of his conservative fans.
The White House says Cheney's openly gay daughter and top political adviser, Mary, is expecting a baby this spring with her lover of 15 years, Heather Poe.

"The vice president and Mrs. Cheney are looking forward with eager anticipation to the arrival," the veep's office said in a statement.

The father's identity was not revealed.

The veep's daughter will have to remain an unwed mom: Cheney, 37, an AOL executive, and Poe, a 45-year-old former park ranger, live in Virginia, which just passed the kind of constitutional ban on same-sex marriages that the Bush administration has been pushing nationally.

"The irony is that the grandfather of this child is part of a party and an administration that has relentlessly attacked gay and lesbian families," said Jennifer Chrisler, head of Family Pride, an advocacy group for gay parents.

"So his own grandchild will not have the same legal protections other children enjoy. And Heather will have no legal relationship with the child. She can't make a hospital visit or even sign a school field trip form," Chrisler said.

So the Vice-President's daughter's partner, Heather Poe, can't legally take care of their child. She can't even adopt her daughter because, as long as there is one mom alive, that's what the Bible Beltway political muckrakers were able to pass as law in the state of Virginia.

If you switch to the new holiday template, you'll see what my happy hell looks like --complete with home-made gluten-free chocolote chip cookies.

Yes. I am that kind of mother.

Which is why my happy children conspire on a daily basis to deny me of my right to be a depressed, sullen, angry and resentful bitch. They force me to be happy and grateful.

Bastards.

Such is life.

Such is the hell I've chose to live in.

Running along the creek by my house, I spotted a small blackness jutting out of the water, stiff and stinking in the sun. I turned my head away from it, moving quickly through the greeness of sun-drenched leaves, my breath expelled through young lungs, alive.

Days passed. One afternoon, a neighborhood boy dragged a garbage bag across our front yard as I sang and looked out the bedroom window. Today could be the day that I caught a butterfly or made my parents another mud turtle sculpture. But that bag...what was in that bag? It made me feel bad. Soon I had to take my medicine. It had never really bothered me, though I bruised easily. I hated the boy dragging that bag. I tiptoed down the hall and stood at the top of the stairs as Dad peered into it. He signed. I twirled back to my room to finish my song, complete with high kicks. I had a butterfly to catch and a mud turtle to sculpt, so I needed to finish that song.

A few years earlier, I had been playing in the back yard when Mama started her car and I heard the screech of a cat. She pushed me inside, trying to calm me down by rubbing my face and explaining that when fans spin, they become sharp enough to cut. So I tested that theory by raking my fingers across different fans covers throughout the house. Nothing happened. And my needles didn't hurt me, they kept me alive. But the fan killed my cat. I understood very little about how the world worked. I still don't.

This was first published at c u l t u r e k i t c h e n:
today was like any other day.

it was a beautiful day, just as it was two years ago. blue sky, gentle breeze.

the kids were romping and jumping. we took time to play, time to read and time to learn. the house was a mess, we were running low on groceries, and the kids were getting antsy. so we picked up a bit, i left the kids in the playground with our neighbors while i went to the store.

it has been just a day like any other day. still, evan asked:

"are they coming back?"
"is the empire state building still sad?"

this day, two years ago, i was feeling a bit tired, a bit disoriented and, well, a bit lazy. september 10, 2001 marked out first day of homeschooling. i had this great week planned out for our official first week. i had decided not to go to the observatory, just to keep things simple, and just go to the empire state building because it was closer to us.

the "observatory" was the top of world trade center #2.

this year, two years ago, we heard a loud boom. not a sonic boom, but a boom louder than the one a truck would make after hitting a pothole. i thought "that must have been one helluva big truck".

minutes later our baby-sitter walks in and says, did you notice one of the towers is on fire? although we are on a tall building in the east village, we face north. i had to go up to the roof to check it out. i did and came back and we put the tv on. and as the news anchors are trying to make sense of the information being fed to them and the image that was on the screen, the second plane hit. all us saw it, even my kids.

This is still my state of mind.
De-mojito-ing is turning out to be rather difficult.

We're leaving for the memorial.
Y'all play nice while I am offline.
See you Monday.

[via Suburban Guerrilla � It's A Hard Life Wherever You Go]:

Then a friend called to let me know Liza Sabater's 8-year-old niece was killed this morning when a storm knocked down a tree and hit the tent her family was camping in. (I'd gotten to know Liza a little bit at the Take Back America conference.) I think of the stunned grief, the aching emptiness her mother must feel, and I multiply it by the hundreds of thousands of mothers in the Middle East. It feels as if the world couldn't be big enough to contain all that sorrow.

And all day long, I've been thinking about those young Israeli girls, writing "With love from Israel" on those missiles. What the hell were their parents thinking?

It tears at my heart, what’s going on in the Middle East, in Africa. What makes our so-called leaders think they can move people around like game pieces, how can they be so willing to obliterate them? No, worse - exterminate them, like roaches.

And how can Bush sit on his hands, then cry crocodile tears over frozen embryos?

Yesterday a friend called to check how I was doing. During the course of the conversation she said something to the effect that people's reactions to the death of a child are greater because we project something or other on them. I was stunned at the unintentional callousness of the comment.

First, this was my niece we're talking about; the closest thing to a sister my kids had. Second, I love my sister-in-law. She's an astounding human being. As someone who has been a witness to her greatness through the years; it breaks my heart to know she will carry this sorrow for the rest of her life. It really truly is not fair.

Why doesn't a tree fall on fucking Dick Cheney or George Bush? Why Lydia? Why my SILs baby?

I politely ended the conversation one way or other with my friend. I know her for too many years to know she did not mean any harm with the comment. Yet it confirmed what I have felt for some years now : the love that comes with parenting is many times greater in order of magnitude than romantic love because it is not just a blood or family relationship between two people. It's the kind of love that builds worlds and universes.

Lydia, my eight year-old niece is dead. No parent should ever see their child die before their eyes, but that's exactly what my sister-in-law and her husband went through this morning.

I don't have all the details but my niece Lydia was killed in a storm-related accident while camping. A storm hit their campsite at 2am this morning, knocking out a tree that crushed the little angel's life out.

More details here.

Lydia died while her mom tried desperately to clutch with her hands to her life. Unfortunately, neither she nor her husband could not move the tree and had to wait to be assisted by the state park's emergency unit.

The most horrible part of the story is that they were all sleeping in the same tent when this happened. The tree only hit Lydia. My in-laws were not harmed.

My kids saw me and their father crying. They don't understand they will never see their little cousin ever again. Unfortunately, my in-laws are not holding a wake, so the loss may never sink in.

I can't imagine the pain my SIL is going through. Lydia was her only child.

This is a total navel-gazing moment but eff it, it's my blog!

I'm in a lot of physical and emotional pain. Forty has hit me like a frying pan on a toon's nogging and it has taken me almost a month to write about my passage into official middleagehood because ... well ... it's painful.

I don't like it.

It sucks.

I hate being old.

Not because I look old but because I feel old. Every bone and muscle in my body has started to sink into decrepitude. I don't feel emotionally older than 30 yet here I am seeing my body crash and burn further and further away from my self.

What is worse than the pain is the horrible, terrible fear that keeps me awake at night : Four years ago I woke in a pool of sweat, smacked with the horrible realization that I would be cursed with ... the gift of longevity.

Adopted and opened for signature, ratification and accession by General Assembly
resolution 44/25 of 20 November 1989

entry into force 2 September 1990, in accordance with article 49

World Cup 10 Best Goals, 2002

Are you struggling with the urge to stay glued to the TV watching the World Cup?

I live with a philistine who does not appreciate my being excited about the real world series that involves actual countries other than the United States --not like that fake thing that involves gringos with a bat and a ball.

This after years of making me believe he liked soccer. Last night he said, gasp, that he just did not like it because he finds it frustrating to watch and too hard to play.

HOW DARE HE!

A man that fakes liking soccer is as bad as a woman that fakes her orgasms.

FIFA FOR LIFE!

A Song I Wrote i don't know if i'm gonna finish it, it's a song/ rap
by Mariah Occhi

After all my pain my gain my aches my ways my days. After all my stress I’m still blessed still striving to impress struggling in my happiness. My power to exist is to be someone else living life through others and not myself. To the sky through lies i swear i deny it wasn’t me is that why i’m still alive? X2

When I was born I lost my mom don’t really know about my dad alls i know is the mom i have now is the best one i’ve ever had and you know it’s really sad for someone to keep givin and givin but they ain’t getting nothin back five kids under one roof with one parental unit honestly she’s exhausted i have no clue how she does it. I wrote a letter to Oprah but it just got passed up just like any other sad story or homeless guy askin for money to tell the truth i am upset it really meant a lot and plus that shit was just way to important to be forgotten I’ve been worryin for so many years feels like I lost it but that’s not the end of my story i’m just getting started. My ****** hasn’t she suffered enough blood work needles and followups every month? This shouldn’t be somethin she has to handle sometimes wish it was my stomach she came outta. Even though she has it her brother didn’t seem to catch it, now tell me, would you pop pills, take drugs, or drink booze if you knew that you was pregnant, nope i didn’t think so but now because of those wrong decisions she in special ed and she thank that everything is hilarious. Laughin it up it’s all a joke but what happens when she runs into the wrong person and they don’t know now i gotta have this up on my brain i just cant stop thinkin even though it’s driving me insane to know one day she could get hurt and i swear i’d just kill myself if one more person i loved got buried under the dirt

Rabbi Shmuley Boteach is an orthodox (modern) Rabbi who has a new show on The Learning Channel called “Shalom in the Home”. It is a cute show where, inspired by his own childhood loneliness due to his parents’ divorce, he travels around the country trying to help families find “Shalom” (peace).

My wife and I have watched a few shows and find it endearing and a cut above the average voyeur show. Reb Boteach is compassionate and insightful and is able to cut through bullshit without angering the people he is counseling.

Last night’s show the Rabbi dove wholeheartedly and intentionally into controversy raising the quality of his show from “cute and endearing” to pretty damned cool.

What we had was an orthodox Rabbi counseling a lesbian couple on how to raise their two daughters in what looked like Park Slope Brooklyn. Rabbi Boteach used this as an opportunity to COMPLETELY demolish the morality of religious attacks on homosexuality.

He came right out and said that they knew this show would be controversial and that was one reason why they wanted to show it. They even had an unusual segment where the crew and the lesbian couple discussed whether the show should even air of if it might be misinterpreted as criticism of the ability of a lesbian couple to raise children. Again, the Rabbi made the point that the message is the exact opposite—that he is helping one of the most compassionate, deep and caring families he has known.

Waking up to those two smiles makes every day Mother's Day.

Women ought not be damned to reproductive servitude through forced pregnancies and human harvesting. Make sure you contribute to to Planned Parenthood or NARAL Pro-Choice America; who are fighting each day for women's reproductive freedom.

And while you're at it, make sure you contribute to our blog and ensure we continue fighting the good fight one daily posting of dissent at a time.

Happy Mother's Day y'all!