We took the kids with us to vote this morning. Henry went with me into the voting booth.
Henry: Why are you doing this?
Me: I'm voting. I do it because it is a privilege to live in a country that lets its people choose its leaders. When I fill in this circle, it means that I want that person to be my leader.
I then went through each section (here in VA that was President, a Senator, a Congressman, and two Constitutional Amendments), reading him the names of each candidate and which political party each one represented.
Henry: So you are picking the good guy, right? Which ones are the bad guys?
Me: chuckling Well, you could ask different people that and they would give you different answers. But let me tell you the truth: it's complicated. Each of these people has worked hard serving their country. They've gone about it in different ways and have different ideas of what is best for everyone, but they are BOTH good guys. Do they always make good choices? No. Sometimes they make bad choices.
Henry: Bad choices mean sad consequences. (This phrase gets said countless times in our house every day.)
Me: Yes. That is true. And when an elected leader makes a bad choice, the sad consequence happens to a lot of people. But every few years, we get to pick again.
(pause)
Henry: Can I go get my sticker now?
Me: Yes. You can go get your sticker now. I'll even let you feed my ballot into the box. (But that was a lie. They didn't let him. I had to do it. But he carried it to the box for me.)
Showing posts with label politics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label politics. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
When Henry is Big
We have lots of books. Nonfiction. Fiction. Reference. Three different unabridged dictionaries. Children's books.
Lots of the children's books are from my childhood. My mother kept EVERYTHING in response to her mother keeping nothing. (Thank you, darling mom.) Every now and then Henry will dig out my old copy of The Digginest Dog (my favorite childhood book) or my beloved Mr. Pine's Purple House. Some of these books are still in print, some not. His most recent discovery on his bookshelf was a true gem.
For starters, the book obviously belonged first to my sister, as it was published in 1964. Second, it claims to be designed and written by Eric Carle, and yet I can find it nowhere in his lists of published works on the Internet. So now you are thinking, "Wow! Sell that book and you'll have a fortune." Well, another neat treat about the book is that while its cardboard pages are in relatively good physical condition, someone has taken a ballpoint pen to most of the pages. (I say someone as it may have been me, Sonya, or Bill. Not wanting to point fingers, I will blame the extra child that lives in EVERY American house named "Someone." Someone also has a cousin named "Somebody". Somebody is largely responsible for all items misplaced. )
The book is entitled "When I'm Big." It is a board book with holes in each page that show a face of both a boy and a girl on the front and back covers. So when you turn the page, you see a girl who says something like "When I'm Big I'm going to be a nurse and help people get well" and a boy who says "When I'm big I'm going to be a cowboy and rope cattle with my lariat." Cute, right?
Henry loves this book. Poking his finger in the hole, pointing to each person's inked up face. I love this book because it is SOOOOOO politically incorrect. Listen to the various aspirations of the book and recognize that each page gives you both a girl and a boy with their career goals.
Lots of the children's books are from my childhood. My mother kept EVERYTHING in response to her mother keeping nothing. (Thank you, darling mom.) Every now and then Henry will dig out my old copy of The Digginest Dog (my favorite childhood book) or my beloved Mr. Pine's Purple House. Some of these books are still in print, some not. His most recent discovery on his bookshelf was a true gem.
For starters, the book obviously belonged first to my sister, as it was published in 1964. Second, it claims to be designed and written by Eric Carle, and yet I can find it nowhere in his lists of published works on the Internet. So now you are thinking, "Wow! Sell that book and you'll have a fortune." Well, another neat treat about the book is that while its cardboard pages are in relatively good physical condition, someone has taken a ballpoint pen to most of the pages. (I say someone as it may have been me, Sonya, or Bill. Not wanting to point fingers, I will blame the extra child that lives in EVERY American house named "Someone." Someone also has a cousin named "Somebody". Somebody is largely responsible for all items misplaced. )
The book is entitled "When I'm Big." It is a board book with holes in each page that show a face of both a boy and a girl on the front and back covers. So when you turn the page, you see a girl who says something like "When I'm Big I'm going to be a nurse and help people get well" and a boy who says "When I'm big I'm going to be a cowboy and rope cattle with my lariat." Cute, right?
Henry loves this book. Poking his finger in the hole, pointing to each person's inked up face. I love this book because it is SOOOOOO politically incorrect. Listen to the various aspirations of the book and recognize that each page gives you both a girl and a boy with their career goals.
Page One--
Girl: Nurse
Boy: Cowboy
Page Two-- (I love this one!)
Girl: Secretary (who types letters on a typewriter)
Boy: An Astronaut (who goes to the moon)
Page Three--
Girl: A Lion Tamer (what?)
Boy: A doctor
Page Four---
Girl: A teacher
Boy: A policeman (whose main job is to help children cross the street)
Page Five--
Girl: A musician
Boy: A sailor
Page Six--
Girl: An artist
Boy: A fireman
Page Seven--
Girl: A waitress (for the girl who thinks being a secretary is too lofty a goal?)
Boy: A farmer (who is smoking a corn cob pipe)
Page Eight--
Girl: An actress (who is smoking a cigarette and carrying a small dog)
Boy: A baseball player
Page Nine--(what I consider to be the book's Pièce de résistance)
Girl: A bride (and then I'll be married, just like Mommy)
Boy: A bridegroom (and then I'll be married, just like Daddy).
I'm pretty sure this wouldn't be published today. And let me say that I've been a waitress and my best friend was a secretary up until a few months ago. Those are fine jobs. But I'm not really sure they qualify as things a kid says they want to be when they grow up. I also know this book, sadly enough, would not be published because it comments on Mommy and Daddy being married. I remember when I taught PreK, they specifically told us not to read books that featured only married people, only white people, or only employed people. (Seriously. I was told to look for books that also included people who didn't work.) And I understand that it is a good thing to be inclusive to children during storytime, to not constantly berate them with images that are completely foreign to them or make them feel less about themselves. But come on people?!! It is a good thing for Mommy and Daddy to be married, specifically to be married to one another. It is not something that needs to be whispered, like its the thirties and we're talking about Aunt Muriel's (whisper) cancer.
As for now, I will simply hope that Henry does want to be just like his Daddy. (Of course, that is because his Daddy ROCKS!)
As for now, I will simply hope that Henry does want to be just like his Daddy. (Of course, that is because his Daddy ROCKS!)
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Inaugural Fashion Behind the Scenes
In case you didn't know, I'm a fashion expert. And by expert I mean I've watched my fair share of Project Runway, What Not to Wear, and Tim Gunn's Guide to Style. So I'm qualified to share my opinion on the Inaugural Fashion.
For starters, holy cow, Aretha. Your hat kicked so much ass I can't even begin to say how much I loved it. Where did you get it? I've never seen a store that carried bedazzled bow berets. And do you think I could pull it off? Could we please make wearing hats to church come back in style? Please. Please. I mean that thing was just begging for Prince to write a song about it. You wanted respect, and lady, you have won mine.
I've also imagined some behind the scenes conversations between Michelle and Barack. The first one goes like this...
President Obama: Dang, it's gonna be cold.
First Lady: Don't you even dare to complain about the cold. You get to wear long pants. Laura and I are stuck with bare legs in uncomfortable shoes.
P.O.: You get to wear pantyhose.
F.L.: You get to wear Long Johns.
P.O. Maybe if you thought about a coat that actually closed rather than just tying with a ribbon.
F.L.: Barack, don't test a woman in hose. At least the kids get to wear gloves.
P.O.: Seriously.
And then the conversation they had over and over while twirling to Etta James...
FL: You've got to twirl me.
PO: Are you serious? I've twirled you at 3 of these things already. Can't we come up with a new move?
FL: They don't want to see you. They want to see the dress.
PO: You mean that big ass dress I keep stepping on?
FL: It flows.
PO: It's too long.
FL: I am able to hide my Secret Service Agent under it.
PO: How practical.
I mean seriously. She looked beautiful, but I've got to say I half expected her to lift her dress and all of Mother Ginger's children to come out and start dancing the Nutcracker. That would have been some ball!
For starters, holy cow, Aretha. Your hat kicked so much ass I can't even begin to say how much I loved it. Where did you get it? I've never seen a store that carried bedazzled bow berets. And do you think I could pull it off? Could we please make wearing hats to church come back in style? Please. Please. I mean that thing was just begging for Prince to write a song about it. You wanted respect, and lady, you have won mine.
I've also imagined some behind the scenes conversations between Michelle and Barack. The first one goes like this...
President Obama: Dang, it's gonna be cold.
First Lady: Don't you even dare to complain about the cold. You get to wear long pants. Laura and I are stuck with bare legs in uncomfortable shoes.
P.O.: You get to wear pantyhose.
F.L.: You get to wear Long Johns.
P.O. Maybe if you thought about a coat that actually closed rather than just tying with a ribbon.
F.L.: Barack, don't test a woman in hose. At least the kids get to wear gloves.
P.O.: Seriously.
And then the conversation they had over and over while twirling to Etta James...
FL: You've got to twirl me.
PO: Are you serious? I've twirled you at 3 of these things already. Can't we come up with a new move?
FL: They don't want to see you. They want to see the dress.
PO: You mean that big ass dress I keep stepping on?
FL: It flows.
PO: It's too long.
FL: I am able to hide my Secret Service Agent under it.
PO: How practical.
I mean seriously. She looked beautiful, but I've got to say I half expected her to lift her dress and all of Mother Ginger's children to come out and start dancing the Nutcracker. That would have been some ball!
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
It ain't just the rains in Africa He's blessing...
Today is an 8. I am reserving 9 for the day I wake up 50 pounds thinner, and 10 for the day when I wake up 50 pounds thinner, have another baby, and oh yeah, have a maid.
It started off with me getting out of the shower expecting to have to go wrangle Henry while wearing my towel. But as I walked to Henry's room, I could hear from downstairs Sloan talking to Henry about making eggs for breakfast. So I got to blow dry my hair, put on my face, and get ready for Bible Study without having to play goalie in the bathroom door.
Then, and this is where it really gets good, as Henry and I were driving to Bible Study, we got to take advantage of all the wondrous beauty that is XM radio. Sloan's car died, as in the oil drained out of his Passat while in the backwoods of North Carolina killing his engine. And to replace the engine would be more than our dear Penny is worth. So she's just waiting to be sold for parts at a mechanic in Fayetville. We literally are selling our car on Craigslist and having to buy a new (at least new for us) car for Sloan. Not so much what we'd intended on using our savings for (have I mentioned lately that I want a baby?). But I digress...
So I'm borrowing my sister's extra car. (Yes, she has 7 kids and an extra car. But remember, I have a nephew who gets his license in 2 months so it will not be "extra" for long.) And this car, an old BMW wagon, has XM radio. At first, I did not think I would like XM. I'm addicted to talk radio and getting the weather and traffic every 10 minutes. But then I met XM. And he has shown me his love.
Mainly I listen to the 60s on 6. But there are also the 70s on 7, and the 80s on 8. The simplicity of the stations moves me. And there is a little light show on the radio that keeps time with the music. This, however, is a bit hazardous as I've been known to watch it while I'm supposed to be driving. But again, I digress. As Henry and I are pulling onto 288, I decided not to listen to the Bee Gees on 7 and tried the 80s on 8. BINGO!!!
I heard a familiar drum beat and saw the flashing word "Toto" scroll across the XM display. Has there ever been anything more glorious to see on a cold and dreary winter day? I set out to introduce Henry to quite possibly one of the greatest songs ever written. Ever. Toto's "Africa." And by the time we were crossing the James, I was singing at the top of my lungs, playing the steering wheel as a drum, and in the rear view mirror, I got to watch as Henry shimmied his shoulders and played his thighs as drums. That's right people, we were rockin' out.
I knew it was going to be a great day. Hearing Toto in the morning changes you.
And when we got home, as I was trying to coax Henry into eating creamed Spinach, we had the Inauguration on. And suddenly I was in tears. Not because Pres. Obama's speech moved me (although it did), not because I heard Toto, and not even because I was so filled with pride. It suddenly hit me that God did this huge thing. He changed the hate-filled hearts of an entire people. And by this change, this election of a black man, He is giving hope to many. And hope can be a dangerous thing. Hope makes us work harder. Hope makes us dream bigger. Hope makes us yearn.
My prayer, however, is that this hope will not be misplaced. Pres. Obama is just a man. He is finite. And whatever your political beliefs may be, if you place all that hope in just a man, you will be disappointed. But what proof we have that God is at work! What proof we have that not only do people change, but peoples change.
So I will continue to shimmy my shoulders and hum Toto. And place my hope in Him.
"Praise be to the name of God for ever and ever; wisdom and power are his. He changes times and seasons; he sets up kings and deposes them. He gives wisdom to the wise and knowledge to the discerning. He reveals deep and hidden things; he knows what lies in darkness, and light dwells with him.
It started off with me getting out of the shower expecting to have to go wrangle Henry while wearing my towel. But as I walked to Henry's room, I could hear from downstairs Sloan talking to Henry about making eggs for breakfast. So I got to blow dry my hair, put on my face, and get ready for Bible Study without having to play goalie in the bathroom door.
Then, and this is where it really gets good, as Henry and I were driving to Bible Study, we got to take advantage of all the wondrous beauty that is XM radio. Sloan's car died, as in the oil drained out of his Passat while in the backwoods of North Carolina killing his engine. And to replace the engine would be more than our dear Penny is worth. So she's just waiting to be sold for parts at a mechanic in Fayetville. We literally are selling our car on Craigslist and having to buy a new (at least new for us) car for Sloan. Not so much what we'd intended on using our savings for (have I mentioned lately that I want a baby?). But I digress...
So I'm borrowing my sister's extra car. (Yes, she has 7 kids and an extra car. But remember, I have a nephew who gets his license in 2 months so it will not be "extra" for long.) And this car, an old BMW wagon, has XM radio. At first, I did not think I would like XM. I'm addicted to talk radio and getting the weather and traffic every 10 minutes. But then I met XM. And he has shown me his love.
Mainly I listen to the 60s on 6. But there are also the 70s on 7, and the 80s on 8. The simplicity of the stations moves me. And there is a little light show on the radio that keeps time with the music. This, however, is a bit hazardous as I've been known to watch it while I'm supposed to be driving. But again, I digress. As Henry and I are pulling onto 288, I decided not to listen to the Bee Gees on 7 and tried the 80s on 8. BINGO!!!
I heard a familiar drum beat and saw the flashing word "Toto" scroll across the XM display. Has there ever been anything more glorious to see on a cold and dreary winter day? I set out to introduce Henry to quite possibly one of the greatest songs ever written. Ever. Toto's "Africa." And by the time we were crossing the James, I was singing at the top of my lungs, playing the steering wheel as a drum, and in the rear view mirror, I got to watch as Henry shimmied his shoulders and played his thighs as drums. That's right people, we were rockin' out.
I knew it was going to be a great day. Hearing Toto in the morning changes you.
And when we got home, as I was trying to coax Henry into eating creamed Spinach, we had the Inauguration on. And suddenly I was in tears. Not because Pres. Obama's speech moved me (although it did), not because I heard Toto, and not even because I was so filled with pride. It suddenly hit me that God did this huge thing. He changed the hate-filled hearts of an entire people. And by this change, this election of a black man, He is giving hope to many. And hope can be a dangerous thing. Hope makes us work harder. Hope makes us dream bigger. Hope makes us yearn.
My prayer, however, is that this hope will not be misplaced. Pres. Obama is just a man. He is finite. And whatever your political beliefs may be, if you place all that hope in just a man, you will be disappointed. But what proof we have that God is at work! What proof we have that not only do people change, but peoples change.
So I will continue to shimmy my shoulders and hum Toto. And place my hope in Him.
"Praise be to the name of God for ever and ever; wisdom and power are his. He changes times and seasons; he sets up kings and deposes them. He gives wisdom to the wise and knowledge to the discerning. He reveals deep and hidden things; he knows what lies in darkness, and light dwells with him.
Daniel 2:20-22
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Bring back the fro...
Gosh I love my friends. Even, and maybe even especially, when they're so different from me. This video was made by a high school friend of mine that I re-befriended as an adult. She and her husband Rich were there when Sloan and I met. Rich was Sloan's personal beer caddy at our wedding reception and saved me from having to dance with a scary old man. And they are so liberal. (I remember watching the 2004 Olympics with them at Smith Mtn Lake and Rich wanted to give a do-over to a swimmer who had too many false starts!) And I love 'em for it.
But our friendship is a testimony to what is great about America--we can have a glass of wine and talk about politics and religion and disagree and laugh and see things from a different point of view and at the end of the night, remain friends. No shouting matches, name calling, or label giving. Just an appreciation for thought out belief systems strong enough to stand up for. And an appreciation for a good glass of wine. We musn't forget the wine.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Because nothing makes a statement quite like a squat thrust.
Someone at the gym today told me I was racist because I voted for John McCain.
It took every ounce of maturity not to yell at her, "Yeah--well you're ugly." (She wasn't.)
I'm still sort of shocked by this. For a couple of reasons. First, I'll admit that I'm overly judgemental, snobby, and sometimes elitist. But I tend to think I'm better than everybody. On the planet. And my pettiness is sinful. I recognize that and repent of it often. Because it shows me that I have an inaccurate picture of who I am, my shortcomings, and the amount of grace bestowed on me by God. That being said, I look down upon people for their clothing, behavior, parenting skills, hair-dos and the like. I don't judge people for who they are and who God has created them to be. So I take great offense to the lady in the neon running shorts telling me I'm racist.
The second reason I was offended was because I think it is insulting to Barack Obama. As if his only qualifying characteristic for the office of President is his race. I'm hopeful that even though he is not whom I thought would be best for the job, he is more than adequately qualified for the job through his service to country, leadership, charisma, and experience.
But the main reason I was offended was because it doesn't speak to the fact that no, I didn't vote for Obama, and if she really wanted to know why I would've calmly told her that I do want to "spread the wealth" but that I do that by tithing, volunteering, and donating to local charities. That I think blind charity, or government handouts, can be oppressive because how can you retain your dignity if you can't say Thank you? I also probably would've shown her the first picture I have of Henry. He is 8 cells big. And in a petri dish. And Obama co-sponsored a bill that would authorize the industrial production of embryos for use in biomedical research in which they would be killed all the while voting against using federal money in stem-cell research that does not involve the production and destruction of embryos.
But I didn't say any of these things to her. Instead, I showed my maturity, by saying "That black and red dress that Michelle Obama wore last night made her boobs look like they were on fire. And not in a good way." And then I dramatically put on my head phones and got on the leg press machine.
It took every ounce of maturity not to yell at her, "Yeah--well you're ugly." (She wasn't.)
I'm still sort of shocked by this. For a couple of reasons. First, I'll admit that I'm overly judgemental, snobby, and sometimes elitist. But I tend to think I'm better than everybody. On the planet. And my pettiness is sinful. I recognize that and repent of it often. Because it shows me that I have an inaccurate picture of who I am, my shortcomings, and the amount of grace bestowed on me by God. That being said, I look down upon people for their clothing, behavior, parenting skills, hair-dos and the like. I don't judge people for who they are and who God has created them to be. So I take great offense to the lady in the neon running shorts telling me I'm racist.
The second reason I was offended was because I think it is insulting to Barack Obama. As if his only qualifying characteristic for the office of President is his race. I'm hopeful that even though he is not whom I thought would be best for the job, he is more than adequately qualified for the job through his service to country, leadership, charisma, and experience.
But the main reason I was offended was because it doesn't speak to the fact that no, I didn't vote for Obama, and if she really wanted to know why I would've calmly told her that I do want to "spread the wealth" but that I do that by tithing, volunteering, and donating to local charities. That I think blind charity, or government handouts, can be oppressive because how can you retain your dignity if you can't say Thank you? I also probably would've shown her the first picture I have of Henry. He is 8 cells big. And in a petri dish. And Obama co-sponsored a bill that would authorize the industrial production of embryos for use in biomedical research in which they would be killed all the while voting against using federal money in stem-cell research that does not involve the production and destruction of embryos.
But I didn't say any of these things to her. Instead, I showed my maturity, by saying "That black and red dress that Michelle Obama wore last night made her boobs look like they were on fire. And not in a good way." And then I dramatically put on my head phones and got on the leg press machine.
Friday, September 5, 2008
I have a little crush on Sarah...
So I'm not going to talk too much about politics. But there are a couple of general things I want to put out there about the upcoming election.
1. I hate campaign speeches and slogans. I particularly hate when candidates say things like "I am for the children." Is there a candidate running that is against the children?
2. Everyone is talking about change. Isn't that what an election, by nature, is for? Why are you pointing out the obvious to me?
3. Barack Obama will you please stop saying "Yes you can." Yes I can what? I think this is a bit "Vote for Pedro and all your wildest dreams will come true". However, if you are really trying to say "Yes I can have a maid" you have my vote.
4. I'd really like to vote for someone rather than against someone.
5. Let's give it up for women who are smart and beautiful. Michella Obama, Cindy McCain, and Sarah Palin--bringin' sexy back. Not a cankle in sight.
1. I hate campaign speeches and slogans. I particularly hate when candidates say things like "I am for the children." Is there a candidate running that is against the children?
2. Everyone is talking about change. Isn't that what an election, by nature, is for? Why are you pointing out the obvious to me?
3. Barack Obama will you please stop saying "Yes you can." Yes I can what? I think this is a bit "Vote for Pedro and all your wildest dreams will come true". However, if you are really trying to say "Yes I can have a maid" you have my vote.
4. I'd really like to vote for someone rather than against someone.
5. Let's give it up for women who are smart and beautiful. Michella Obama, Cindy McCain, and Sarah Palin--bringin' sexy back. Not a cankle in sight.
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