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Tag: United States

Armed or Not: Choosing a Collective Identity Copy

I wrote this post in 2013, after the LAX shooting.  Yesterday NPR informed me that another shooting happened in Kalamazoo, Michigan. Yes, Kalamazoo.  A mid-sized college town. Not too far from the home of Post Toasties and Tony the Tiger (Kellogg.)   I’m still sorting out the facts. An Uber driver. He picked up riders between shootings? Someone was in the car when he started shooting?  Could these things be true? Except for the place and perhaps an update to the statistics, the story remains the same:   “We live in a schizophrenic world,” I say. My clock radio wakes…

Armed or Not: Choosing a Collective Identity

“We live in a schizophrenic world,” I say. My clock radio wakes me up to NPR’s coverage of the LAX shooting and the arrest of Paul Ciancia who pulled a .223-caliber assault rifle from his duffel bag and opened fire. “We want our guns, all our guns, but we don’t want to worry about being shot.” “Guns don’t kill people,” mumbles Loved-One. “I know.  People with guns kill people.” I know, I know.  People kill each other with baseball bats and fists and knives, and even cross-bows.  Someone can, in a fit of rage, bludgeon or stab someone to death.…

Feminist? Yes, I am.

I myself have never been able to find out precisely what feminism is:  I only know that people call me a feminist whenever I express sentiments that differentiate me from a door mat or a prostitute.  ~Rebecca West, “Mr Chesterton in Hysterics: A Study in Prejudice,” The Clarion, 14 Nov 1913, reprinted in The Young Rebecca, 1982 In the wake of both Democratic and Republican convention, I see more division, nastiness, and vitriolic dredging up of the Roe v Wade decision; a Supreme Court decision made almost 40 years ago.  I am saddened by the rage and hatred of so…

Abortion and the Presidency

English: United States Supreme Court justice H...
United States Supreme Court justice Harry Blackmun. Photo from official public domain Supreme Court multimedia 

Every year, on the anniversary of Roe v Wade, I set out to research and read the Supreme Court Opinion and share my own opinion.  Every year I chicken out or I get lazy, or something else is more pressing.  I know my opinion is sure to anger both my pro-life and my pro-choice friends, many of whom see things through a black-and-white, all-or-nothing lens.  As in so many things in life’s journey, this issue a complex one.

But this is an election year, and many people will vote for their President based on his position on this issue alone.  So it’s high time I did the research.  But first the disclaimers:

You will find no pictures in this post of fetuses, babies, or demonstrators on either side of the divide.  I support Barack Obama; I tend to vote Democrat.  I am pro-life.

Uniform Olympics

You’d be hard pressed to find someone describe me as any kind of fashionista.  Beanie kindly reminds me,  “Mom, what you’re wearing went out of style 10 years ago.” “But, it’s still perfectly good,”  I protest. “Look at the quality of this fabric.  Not a sign of wear.” “Yes,” but nobody’s wearing that, no matter how good it may look on you.”  Subtext: something else, anything else, would look sooo much better. I envision myself moving toward the Katherine Hepburn type, sitting in her worn wing-backed chair, explaining patiently to an interviewer that the chair fits her just right, and…

Celebrating America

Today is Independence Day.  The day we celebrate the birth of America. My flag is flying. I’m going to a picnic. I’m ready for fireworks. And I started a new tradition.  I am watching “Citizen U.S.A.:  A 50 State Road Trip,” by Alexandra Pelosi.  I TiVo’d it last year.  This documentary reminds me of all the things I take for granted. I hope you join me in this new tradition. Happy Birthday to U.S. Related articles Ranier Andres: One Lucky Guy(theblacktortoise.com) 5 reasons Why Independence Day is the Geekiest Holiday of Them All(wired.com)

Got Some Kicks on Route 66

I saw the exit for Pontiac on my way back from visiting my family in Peoria.  I see the exit every time I make the journey, but I have a mission, a time-line, a schedule.  I always think of my home state, Michigan and the city of Pontiac, not too very far from where I grew up.  This time was no different, except for two things:  I had about an hour to spare before my grandson’s flute recital, and I saw the sign for the Historic Route 66 Museum.  I had no idea that short detour would give me such a kick.

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