Joe Biden and ageism in the U.S.

A good friend came for happy hour last night, and when she brought up Joe Biden’s name, the first thing she said was, “You know he fell again.” The first thing I said was, “He just negotiated a brilliant deal around the debt ceiling.” The two remarks embody a split in this country about our current president and about our aging citizens.

Since before 2020 Republicans have been crowing about Biden’s senility. I maintain that much of what they cite as senility is his style—they are used to the flamboyant drama of trump, but that is not Biden’s way. He’s a low-key guy, who keeps his head down and goes quietly about getting things done. Occasionally he falters in a speech, the result of a lifelong problem with stuttering and nothing to do with senility.

And the fall? Someone had left a sandbag onstage in the path he took to exit after his speech. I fault his crew—security, medical, whoever. They should have been alert to such a hazard and moved it. Fortunately he was not hurt and bounced right back up. His quick recovery is a testimony to his wellbeing.

When I repeat to my friend all that Biden has accomplished—the decrease in jobless numbers and increase in employed, staving off the anticipated recession, lowering inflation, legislation to rebuild the infrastructure, uniting our allies to support Ukraine’s fight against Russia’s attempted takeover, better care for veterans, changing the rampant course of the pandemic—she counters with actuarial statistics. He, at eighty, is more likely to have a stroke than she, in her mid-fifties. I point out he is an actual, living being, not a statistic. Her argument is not that he hasn’t done great things for America but that we can’t count on him continuing to be able to do such.                                                                                                                                 

The whole conflict comes down to America’s continuing affliction with ageism, a fear of aging. Knowing I am almost eighty-five, my friend asked how long I intended to live. I replied that I hadn’t set an end date. I am enjoying life and as long as I am able, I don’t want to leave. I enjoy my family, my work, my dog, my cottage, my friends. She thinks eighty will about do it for her, an easy thing to say when you’re in your fifties, not so easy at eighty. I point out that Willie Nelson is going strong at ninety, and she counters that he is not responsible for a major world power.

Over 52 million American adults are over sixty-five. A recent Pew study reports that there is a huge gap between how young and middle-aged adults view aging and what aging adults actually experience. Younger people expect a much higher rate of illness, inability to live alone, depression, forgetfulness, an inability to drive, an end to sex, and other symptoms than most elderly actually experience. On the other hand, studies show that most older folks feel at least ten years younger than their actual age and experience fewer of the problems young people expect.

At my age, I come at this from a purely personal perspective. Yes, I have some of the problems anticipated: I cannot walk without assistance, I have given up driving, and I probably could not live alone without assistance nearby, as it is in my cottage. (Don’t ask about sex, but I have memories.) But on the other hand, I do meaningful work every day, I am engaged with the world around me (probably too much, some of my kids might say). I entertain friends frequently, I am (I hope) fairly cheerful and fairly healthy. I am not sitting in a rocking chair staring into space.

And Joe Biden’s senility. If the debt ceiling negotiations didn’t put an end to that speculation, Kevin McCarthy’s words should have. McCarthy, who has every reason to continue to spout his party’s line, said instead that in negotiations, he found President Biden and his team, “very professional, very smart, very tough.”

Stereotyping the elderly only makes their problems worse. If you expect the elderly person close to you to exhibit signs of aging, senility, etc. and you convey that message, either openly or subtly, often enough, it will come to pass. But the elderly are like children—stimulate them, encourage them, and they can shine.

Me? I’m voting for Biden. For many reasons, in my mind there’s no choice, but we also might remember his presumed opponent is only four years younger, in much worse physical shape, and clearly not as sharp mentally.

Here’s to growing old gracefully!                                                                                                                                                                                              

Monday all day long

 

A thoroughly unremarkable day, even with the presence of Colin. He worked remotely all day from the dining table in the main house, appearing only when he let Cricket out briefly. He even ate the sandwich—an Anthony?—that he brought in the grocery store while sitting at his computer. I have no idea what an Anthony sandwich is and can’t remember what he said, except that he thought they were only available in Houston. Turns out he bought two—so much for leftovers, including the salmon patty I saved for him.

And more leftovers—for some reason we had an unusual amount of leftover carnitas meat last night. We’d had a little problem with it for which I take half the blame—it just didn’t look like enough water, so I added a bit more than called for. And I should have started it earlier because it takes a long time for two cups of water or more to evaporate. That’s my part of the blame—the other goes to Jordan and Christian who tried to hurry it up by raising the heat, which brought the water to a boil. So the meat began to stick. It was tender and the flavor was great, but it didn’t have that crisp crust we all like. Lesson learned: next time I will start it earlier and not add water.

Tonight I simply put the leftover meat in a skillet with some olive oil and browned it to get the crust. So if it was good last night, it was better tonight. And I put out all the trimmings—grated Monterrey Jack, chopped red onion, chopped cilantro, guac, sour cream—a veritable feat. And then I ate too much!

The day was considerably brightened by Phil and Subie who came by to visit with Colin. We had a lively, delightful happy hour. Now, Colin is back at his computer, Jacob is at the driving range, and I am getting sleepy.

One other bright note, I guess, is the firing of Tucker Carlson by Fox News. But I view that as a blessing that might backfire. Carlson will only find another platform, probably sooner rather than later, and continue to spread his evil. The comeuppance is nice but won’t last. When Jacob came in for supper tonight, he was laughing about having heard someone say Carlson would make a great candidate for vice president. Heaven help us all. It was amazing how quickly his “parting of the ways” dominated all news sources. Which only makes me think it’s a bad indicator of where we are that someone of his ilk can command so much news space.

Which also reminds me that today when I replied to a friend’s comment online that I can’t understand why some Democrats are wishy-washy in their support of President Biden, the friend replied, “Lazy news media.” I hope that’s the answer, because I think he’s done great things and his policies are making America better. I know some are afraid of his age, but that offends me. I am eight years older than Biden, and I hope no one is betting that I’ll die in the next four years. I might, but so might any of us. Have a little faith, folks. I am pleased that the Democratic Governors Associaton has declared their wholehearted support for the president.

Yawn. On that note, I’m going to bed. Yes, it was Monday all day long.

All’s right with the world—or is it?

 

Oh glorious day!
Six years ago, finally getting read to leave rehab and go home.

Jordan’s home from Hawaii, the sun was shining all day and the ice melting, and Sophie got a good doctor’s report. All’s right with my world.

But we all know all’s not right with the world in general. My usual habit is to start the morning with the news and emails before I get to my own work. And today I barely got to my own work, mostly because so much is out of kilter in the world. I think I am fixated on being aware of what’s going on, particularly with our government in my state, Texas, and in Washing, D.C., because I came late to political awareness. And it was even later that I realized my voice might accomplish something, even that I had not just a wish to speak out but an obligation because I felt so strongly about some things.

I don’t know if the way I speak out—this blog and Facebook and occasionally Twitter—is effective or not. I’ve read statistics that claim you’re not going to change anyone’s mind on social media, and some days I’m really afraid that’s true. On Facebook, I stumble across people whose minds are held captive by conspiracy theories. They truly believe that Biden is out to destroy the country, and it does no good to ask them why he would want to do that. Here's a man who has devoted a lifetime to American politics, who has risen above personal tragedy to put the good of the country first, who generally by those who know him is considered a genuinely good man. Remember what Lindsay Graham said (before he was held in thrall to trump): “God never created a better man than Joe Biden.” And now, Biden has saved us from the brink of recession, created programs to bolster not just the infrastructure and the economy but the lives of ordinary Americans—and created new job numbers that are so good they confound the experts. But yeah, he’s out to destroy the country.

Today as in many days I was captivated, not happily, by the antics of House Republicans: Jim Jordan claiming that Biden is intentionally flooding the country with dangerous immigrants; MTG defining CRT as a theory that teaches grade school kids that their white skin is not as good as another kid’s black skin; Texas representative Chip Roy announcing that the armed forces should be out with lethality killing people and blowing things up (yeah, that’s for sure what I want our country known for). Don’t even ask about the debt ceiling which they are deliberately conflating with the budget. I wish more Americans would educate themselves about the way our government works.

Mondays and Fridays are also busy days on two writing listservs I follow—on Mondays in one group, we commit to our work plans for the week and on Fridays, in both, we brag about our accomplishments and praise others on what they’ve done. If you read everybody’s posts, as I feel I should, it takes a lot of time. But if I want people to comment on what I post, I must return the courtesy.

As you can see, it was a busy day, and I barely got to Irene and her Texas adventure. But yesterday I sent the manuscript off to the mystery editor I use and to the man who has been my mentor (he hates the term) for fifty years. I am still left with putting together front matter, a recipe section, and a blurb. Didn’t get to it today, because in addition to keeping up with our out-of-kilter world, I cooked a big dinner to welcome Jordan home—an herb-stuffed sheet pan chicken on a bed of onion, potato and carrot, with a lettuce wedge dressed in a blue cheese sauce.

And that brings me to recipes, which also take up a bunch of my time. I subscribe to the New York Times cooking column and America’s Test Kitchen and perhaps my favorite, the online “Kitchn.” Sometimes I find recipes that really speak to me; other days, not so much. Today what I found included a recipe for creamed kale pizza—uh, no thank you. And in the Times, a recipe for white soondubu jjigae, which is described as a tofu stew.

I’m out of here on that note. Need chocolate and wine.

 

Who among us is okay?

 

A good number of Americans were cheering this week as John Fetterman, still recovering from a stroke in the spring, took to the debate stage with TV personality Dr. Oz. Fetterman has lingering problems with speech, so he was sometimes hesitant, sometimes of the mark. Greeting the crowd, he wished them “Good night,” which Ted Cruz thought was so hysterical he mocked it at a later rally. But who listens to Ted Cruz? But then there was Dr. Oz, who instead of admiring the courage of his opponent, also mocked him, rolled his eyes in impatience, and was generally a boor. The debate revealed a lot about the rivalry between these two.

Fetterman has spent much of his life working for the people of Pennsylvania. Dr. Oz bought a house in Pennsylvania barely in time to qualify for the residency requirement to run for office—his primary residence is in New Jersey, with a mansion in Florida. The story I like best: Oz had someone build a private basketball court in one of his properties; Fetterman built a community court so underprivileged kids could play basketball. Tell me which is the better man?

Yet, Fetterman got a fair share of criticism, even from his own party where at least one person opined he probably should not have debated. And Republicans were quick to judge that he is not capable of holding such a responsible position as senator. (These same people think Herschel Walker is capable, even though every time he opens his mouth word salad comes out.)

The Fetterman episode, if you want to call it that, made clear the value too many in our country place on ableism. There seems to be one cookie cutter version of who is okay—the man or woman who excels at everything from public speaking to sport and beyond. Anyone who varies from that norm is different, suspect, and probably incapable. Take the way Republicans hastened to claim President Biden is senile. The fact that Biden battles a lifelong stuttering problem, which accounts for his occasionally hesitant speech, elicits not cheers for what he’s able to do despite that handicap but accusations that he belongs in a care facility and Dr. Jill Biden is really running the show. If anyone has ever demonstrated that they are in command of the situation, it’s Joe Biden whose accomplishments in two years of presidency have been nothing short of amazing—from turning the economy around, passing legislation for economic growth and renovation of the infrastructure to delicately aligning allies to support Ukraine in its fight against Russia’s incursion. And he’s done it all despite dig-your-heels-in opposition from conservatives.

I have felt some of this ableism myself. These days I need assistance to walk and hearing aids if I am going to hear what others say. I always have someone with me when I am out, because I do not drive any longer —fighting the walker into the car without losing my balance presented too many chances for disaster. But almost inevitably, salespeople, receptionists, and others talk to the person with me until I want to raise my hand and shout, “There’s an okay brain in here!” I am still writing, still cooking, still very much a functioning member of society.

None of us fit that cookie cutter mold of the prefect person. Fortunately many people fight to recognize and accept the differences in people. Some of us are learning to fold those with differences into our lives and world and make them welcome, to let their light shine as it will. My neighborhood has a special early trick-or treat night—this year on Saturday before Halloween. The evening is a sensory friendly event, a calm and less overwhelming experience for children with different abilities. No loud noises or scary tricks.

In addition, the city ambulance service, MedStar, brings two severely handicapped children and their families for a special night out. Ambulance drivers dress in costume, three streets are blocked off, and everyone goes all out to give these special kids a rare treat.

Somehow I’m thinking of Martin Luther King, Jr., and his dream speech—like him, I dream of a world where all are equal, but my dream deals less with racial themes and more with welcoming the handicapped into our full society, appreciating and utilizing their specific talents and accommodating their differences. We are all different, each in our own way.

There’s a meme going around Facebook in various versions (here’s a more graceful version): In January, John Fetterman will be better; Mehmet Oz will still be a fraud and a huckster.

A good president, a sick dog, and another day

 

Irene was the subject of my radio interview today--
or was it Florence? We kept mixing the names up.

Here I go again, probably preaching to the choir. But I am struck again today about President Biden’s strength and what he has accomplished—jobs up, covid deaths down, international reputation back up, and a lot of smaller, less headline-making stuff. Today it’s the death of the Al Qaeda leader who was responsible for so many American deaths—a targeted take-out that did not kill any civilians, including his own family. When Biden pulled our troops out of Afghanistan, many vilified him, ignored his statement that there were better ways to fight that enemy than losing men and money in an endless war. This weekend, his theory came home to roost, without much fanfare. Because that’s the kind of guy he is. Low key. Quietly getting things done.

I see so much on Facebook about how he’s the worst president we’ve ever had, he’s too old, he’s tearing the country apart, etc. Where were these people during trump’s four years? A post today compared him to Jimmy Carter, who was labeled another poor president. It was meant to be derogatory, but I think the comparison is right—they are both quiet, low-key men who feel no need to blow their own horns and who don’t want to play the loud-mouth political game, but they accomplish so much for America. Too many Americans are blown away by the bluster and braggadocio of someone like trump or even Bush or Clinton to see real quality when it hits them in the face. I think that was a problem with Obama, and it's a problem wth Biden. I read today, with gratitude, an article that explained that Biden is not too old. Compared to “the former guy” in everything from policy to athletic ability to weight and health, he’s light years younger than the man who is actually two years younger. The article concluded, “Biden has a history of being counted out until he sweeps away the alternatives. It's too early to count him out.”

And those people on Facebook who post about ageism and worst president? They are inevitably so angry. I cannot count the times I’ve been told I need mental health help. Today I suggested I would welcome healthy discussion and was met with the wide generalization that all Democrats are corrupt. Does that mean Republicans are lily white? I see signs across the country, glimmerings of common sense and hope. I think the mid-terms will be most interesting.

Meantime, back at the cottage, Sophie is still sick—or she’s mad at me—or a bit of both. I tried, on someone’s suggestion, to crush pills and mix into her food. This was yesterday at noon. Big mistake. She went on a hunger strike and did not eat again until late morning today when, after consultation with the vet, I shredded some chicken in broth. She ate two helpings but ignored all other offerings.

Tonight, with neighbors here for happy hour—an event that usually enlivens her—she just lay around. As if to prove my theory, she refused to come to me when I encouraged her but jumped right up on the couch by Jordan. I just cooked a bit more chicken in broth, but I may be creating a monster who will never again eat dog food. Jordan made her a turkey sandwich, mayo and all, but she tried to hide pills in it. Then, at Prudence’s suggestion, she put it at the edge of the coffee table, so Sophie would think she was getting away with something. She moved one quarter of the sandwich but ate none. If she is still refusing to eat tomorrow, I’ll ask Mary to take her to the vet.

For me, it was another day of no writing, except what was going on in my head. This afternoon I had a one-hour radio interview with the city cable station in San Marcos. The interviewer, Priscilla Leder, had sent me questions in advance, and I spent all morning crafting answers to them. It was time well spent. If I hadn’t done it, I’m afraid my answers would have wandered into vagueness. As it is we did get off topic some, but it was all good conversation. I hope at least two people heard it. That’s the way too many days go—I do things related to writing but little actual writing. Except in my head at three o’clock in the morning, when I wrote volumes about both Helen Corbit and Irene in Texas.

Perhaps tomorrow will be a nice calm day, except my Jamie is coming over, and I plan—shhh!—to surprise him with squash casserole which he loves. He asked for a family dish, green noodles, for supper, even though he doesn’t like mushrooms, which are essential. “If they are sliced real thin,” he said, and then, with a big grin, “let’s make it together.” So my knives are sharpened—thank you, Lisa—and I’ll let Jamie slice the mushrooms.

Stay safe and cool, everyone.

Momentous moments

 

My new driver. I hasten to add we were parked,
and, yes, he was checking his phone.

Heavy thoughts on my mind tonight because of a gun control bill that didn’t go far enough and an abortion bill that not only went too far, but never should have seen the light of day. And I’m doubly sad that all this comes on a day when I had good news to share. So let me start with the momentous moments.

Yesterday, I signed the contract with Texas Tech University Press for the study of Helen Corbitt. I’ve worked hard all week to clear my desk—written my own newsletter, finished the neighborhood newsletter, organized an update to my web page, and I will tonight finish the third pass on the final proof of the Irene in Chicago Mystery, Finding Florence. I really itch to get at that Corbitt project.

And yesterday too, I paid off the note that allowed us to convert a one-car garage and much-used, shabby guest quarters into the charming cottage I call home. I consider that a small triumph—or maybe a big one.

And as the picture above shows, I have a new driver. Jacob and I took off this morning for the first of the errands for which I have promised to hire him and pay what should be national minimum wage (not what is in Texas). We went to my cardiology check-up (all good) and to the grocery store where to Jacob’s mingled amusement and chagrin I took out not one but two displays. I’m sure it was not all my fault, because their aisles are narrow and they clog them with free-standing displays. Jacob was good about repairing the damage I caused. Plus, the mobility cart I was careening through the store in suddenly began to moan and groan, and we had to pause for store personnel to bring me a new one. All good though. We got the groceries, had some good visiting, and a few laughs (mostly at my expense). He is a good driver, better than I was with the cart,  and was careful both of me and his driving. A successful adventure.

I have a lot of thoughts on abortion, probably none of them original. We are being bombarded with news and opinions tonight. But the thing that most distresses me is the women who will lose their lives because of science denial. I read yesterday of a woman who was vacationing in Malta, where abortion is forbidden. She began to hemorrhage and had an incomplete spontaneous abortion—I’ll spare you the medical details—but the important thing is that if she didn’t get immediate surgery, she would develop a fatal infection. She was airlifted to a location where she had the life-saving surgery. The fetus, of course, was long since nonviable—so why not permit the abortion? These old white men who pass unreasonable laws refuse to listen to medical science. It’s ignorant on their part. There are so many cases where the mother’s life is at stake, or the infant is severely deformed and doomed to a vegetative state. One size does not fit all, and I am horrified at the callousness.

A smaller indignation: Sean Hannity has revealed that when President Biden spoke to the nation today, he had a note in his hand that told him where to go and what to do. Hannity’s inference of course is that Biden is mentally impaired. My daughter is not an instinctive cook, and even when she cooks a recipe she’s done many times, she wants the directions, printed, in her hand. Telling her won’t do. I’m sure Biden has many things on his mind—including the forceful words he was about to deliver—and was grateful for a reminder of the arrangements that had been made. He did deliver a powerful speech, but trust Hannity to distort. I wish I could say no one listens to him but, alas, the deplorables do (Yes, I like Hillary’s word these days).

And PS: take a look on the internet at Merrick Garland’s strong statement of condemnation of the ruling on behalf of the Department of Justice. Senator Cornyn expressed his dismay that Garland just didn’t say, “It’s the law of the land now.” I express my dismay that it is a flawed judgement from a rogue court, based on disproven and outdated concept (a discredited eighteenth-century scholar if I remember correctly), and flies in the face of precedent. Thanks, John, for once again standing up for the people.

The next days and weeks are going to be interesting, folks. Hang on to your hat and be sure to vote blue in the fall. This old world needs some humanity.

Frivolous Friday

 

Sometimes I keep track of random odd notes and things that catch my eye. So, today being a frivolous Friday, I thought I’d share some of these notes with you. Such as did you know there’s a hippopotamus crisis in Venezuela? I know, I hear you saying, “Wait a minute. Hippos live in Africa, not South America.” You’d be right—and wrong. In the eighties, a drug lord important four females and one male for his private zoo. As hippos will do, they mated and proliferated. Today the estimate is over a hundred of the beasts are roaming the countryside in a certain area, and they are a problem. There have been a few instances of them attacking humans, at least once doing serious damage. But beyond that, they ruin crops and their waste is polluting land and water.

Officials have tried sterilizing them—not an easy task—and there is talk of killing them. But here’s the funny part—locals have grown fond of the animals and a bit protective of them. They vociferously reject any eradication program. So I guess the hippos are happily wandering, extending their territory. And officials are wringing their hands in uncertainty. I think officials do that a lot.

Rye bread may seem like a petty thing to complain about, but I have a message for the Orowheat people: fix your seedless Jewish rye or else. I’m a big fan of not just any rye (though I like the deli rye at Carshon’s best of all) but from the grocery I want the Orowheat product. Only there’s been a flaw with the last several loaves—the top crust doesn’t stay attached to the whole slice, though it sometimes takes a bit of the upper slices of the bread with it. It’s as though there’s a faultline running through the loaf. Makes for a mess in the toaster and is impossible for a tuna salad sandwich.

Speaking of food, I saw a notice online recently for a class in writing the food memoir. Apparently that’s a hot new hybrid literary genre. Which means I was years ahead when I wrote Cooking My Way through Life with Kids and Books, almost fifteen years ago. The cover features Jacob in a toque and chef’s jacket that his pre-school put him in for pictures. You should have heard my other children howl. They photoshopped the cover in weird ways and bragged that their own children were just as cute. “They weren’t wearing toques,” was my response. The book was fun because each of the kids contributed. A standard line was, “Remember when you fixed ….green noodles, beef and bean, Doris casserole.” All their favorites.

Are you a Jessica Fletcher fan? Murder, She Wrote and Cabot Cove? You can now access a website called Exploring Jessica Fletcher’s Closet. It seems Jessica—or Angela Lansbury—was a pretty conservative dresser but with a fondness for scarves. You can also visit her house and, of course, the town of Cabot Cove. A writer/colleague of mine is the new co-author of that series, and I’m a bit jealous. I think that would be lots of fun to write. I bet she knows all those websites by heart.

Did you read about the Army that descended on the White House this week? That’s what the fans of BTS are called—Armies—and there are a lot of them, most teenage girls of color. I confess that I am so out of it I never heard of BTS, the boy septet from South Korea. Apparently they are a worldwide hit, have won awards, given endorsements, and are a strong influence for good causes. They were at the White House to talk to the president about preventing hate crimes that target Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders.

And speaking of President Biden, I watched his gun speech last night and was tremendously impressed with his sincerity, honesty, compassion. I wonder if others were. I know he does not have a strong reputation as a public speaker—between the gaffes and impulses he’s prone to and the stuttering problem he fights—but I think his aides are wrong to keep him from speaking to the country. Seems to me if we saw him like that more often, his ratings might go up—as he deserves. I’m thinking of FDR’s Fireside Chats and how influential they were. Hmmm, Biden even has the requisite dog. ….

 

 

 

 

Anger must surpass grief

 

     

That old cliché, “’Twas a dark and stormy night,” applies tonight. It is depressingly dark early, and I hear distant thunder. Sophie refuses to leave my side. We need the rain so badly that I would welcome a good storm, if I could add certain conditions: no hail, no tornadoes, just rain—preferably steady and not too heavy. As it is I fear it will once again pass over. I think tonight of the people of southern Ontario where a terrific storm swept across the land, moving from Toronto to Ottawa, where it flattened many old, sturdy hardwood trees. One forester said Ottawa’s tree canopy was forever changed. Some used the term derecho, so I’ll add that to my conditions, no derecho.

The dark night seems to reflect the national mood tonight. We are once again grieving a mass shooting, this another horrific targeting of young children. What kind of a madman shoots innocent young children? We will never know for sure because the shooter at Robb Elementary in Uvalde, Texas, was killed on the spot. But for many of us, the images of Sandy Hook have come roaring back with unbelievable tenacity.

President Biden spoke for many of us tonight in his brief words from the White House. At first, his grief rendered him almost speechless, but then grief turned to anger as he lashed out at the fact that we are the only country to suffer such mass shootings. Other countries have angry people, mentally disturbed people, but they do not have mass shootings. It is of course because we have gun control that is ineffective and almost non-existent. The president called for lawmakers to get a backbone and do what we all know needs to be done.

I can add nothing to the words that are flying across the internet tonight. Except to say that many of our gun aficionados on Facebook are downright scary people. They range from the woman who told me her husband needs an assault rifle to hunt the wild hogs that infest much of the South and Southwest to those who told me their guns are protection: if the Russians attack, they are ready. I can almost understand the wild hog argument—my brother has a ranch, and the hogs are so destructive as to be beyond description. They are also tough and numerous—if you hunt with a rifle, you get one at a time. If you hunt with an assault weapon, your stats are better—and that matters to ranchers whose livelihood is threatened; many of whom hunt almost nightly as a means of self-preservation. The flaw in that argument is that if assault weapons are legal for a small group of people, they will inevitably work their way into the hands of those who should not have them.

The self-protection people are more scary. They truly believe they could stand off a Russian invasion, completely overlooking the selfish patriotism, long years of organized training and preparation that have gone into Ukraine’s ability to counter the Russian invasion. Some believe that their guns are protection against their own government. And too many speak of the coming civil war. These folks always overlook the part of the Second Amendment that calls for an organized militia. In fact, they overlook the entire working of the amendment, bending it to their will and refusing to see the difference between weapons in the eighteenth century and today.

Gun folks never mention the mass shootings but they talk about all the illegal criminals Biden is letting in (actually he is under court order to turn immigrants away and most aren’t criminals, but that’s another topic for another day). They claim only criminals will have guns. Their arguments are almost desperate, and often semi-literate. They scare me. And they are rude. I have been criticized, insulted, dismissed as both naïve and an idiot by people who have no rational answers. If you question their statements or logic, they shut down and don’t answer.

So my reluctant conclusion is that logic will do not good. Neither will grief nor appeals to their better selves. We need anger, active anger on the part of all of us. And we need new legislators and a new SCOTUS.

The town of Uvalde, the state of Texas, and the whole country grieve tonight. I cannot imagine the families who sent their children off to school this morning, only to learn that they’ll never see them again. My heart breaks. But we must move on to the anger part. This is a call to arms. We’ve had those calls before—too many of them. What is it going to take to break this pattern? (Note: the NRA is meeting this week in Hoston; trump and Abbott will speak.)

And on a good note for the night: we are getting a nice soaking rain. It didn’t last long enough, but it was lovely while it did. One big clap of thunder sent Sophie scurring to her hidey hole between the couch and the coffee table—she thinks she is invisible when she’s there.

Some reading I find powerful

 

Gabe Fleisher, a sophomore at George Mason University in D.C., writes a column five days a week titled, “Wake Up to Politics!” He’s celebrating the twelfth anniversary of the column, which means he started it at ten or eleven. He has established such a reputation that he is respected by people liked historian Doris Kearns Goodwin. I truly recommend his newsletter—it’s bipartisan to the extent that I frequently hope he’s wrong, but it is always fair.

Today he ran a link to an excerpt from the new memoir coming next week from Valerie Biden Owens, Joe Biden’s sister. I sat at my desk reading, with tears streaming down my face. The excerpt chronicled the night his first wife and baby daughter were killed in a horrendous automobile wreck, his two boys left badly injured. And then it follows with the days in the hospital, the uncertainty about continuing his newly won seat as a senator from Delaware. Not only is it heartbreaking stuff, it will convince you, should you have any doubt, that, as Lindsay Graham once said, “God never made a finer man than Joe Biden.” (We don’t know what changed Graham, but that’s another story.) Here’s a link to Gabe’s column, and you’ll find the link to the excerpt at the end: Wake Up To Politics  I want you to know Gabe, and I want  you to know Joe Biden and the kind of man he is—bright, dedicated, kind, compassionate. Not the picture the right would have you believe of a demented, senile, corrupt man who is at the bidding of Barack Obama and George Soros. Please!

I’ve been thinking a lot about President Biden lately. In a tragic accident, highly respected columnist Eric Boehlert was killed last week. His last column was about why the press is against Biden. He put the finger on something that bothers me. There are two general assumptions gaining currency for all the wrong reasons.

The first is that Democrats will lose the House and the Senate at mid-terms. History supports this, except in a couple of instances, but history has not seen a situation like this where daily we learn more about the corruption of the “former guy” and his followers and cohorts. They clearly tried to stage a coup, to overthrow a democratically elected leader. Trump is under investigation by several branches of authority. So far he has dodged charges, but there is no way this man is innocent. But in the face of that Biden has low favorability ratings, in large part to media skewering the message. Hunter Biden’s laptop is falsely big news; Donald Trump Jr.’s infamous memo to Mark Meadows fades quickly from the public eye.

History has not seen either such a worldwide battle between democracy and autocracy. It’s not just in our country, but my take on it is that so many in this country are wide awake (okay, that awful word “woke”) to the dangers facing us. I’m counting on them to turn out from the county to state to national level.

The other myth that the press promotes is that Democrats are incapable and inefficient. You constantly read lines like, “The Democrats need to get their act together,” or “Democrats better learn to play politics,” or similar things that reinforce the image of a bunch of doddering old men led by a senile man who hides in his basement. Nothing could be farther from the truth. It’s like celebrities—those who lead ordinary, responsible lives are not news. But let a salacious story come up about an affair or a drug overdose or Will Smith’s slap to the Chris Rock’s face, and the press is all over it endlessly. Democrats don’t make good copy because they are hard-working, honest, determined; Republicans make terrific copy because they lie a lot, they are outrageous, and they play to people’s fears.

So that brings me to another column I’d like you to read if you don’t already: Letters from an American by Heather Cox Richardson. Richardson is a historian at Boston University, and her daily column often traces the history of political developments, how the history impacts us today. Her column this morning is particularly meaningful: it lists Joe Biden’s accomplishments as president, and contrasts the failures of the “former guy.” It is a revelation,

There, you have your reading assignments. I wish I could make all those who claim Biden is ruining democracy and America and trump was great and accomplished so much read these works. But I’ll start with you, my friends.

The folly of a pity party

There some wisdom going around the internet to the effect that if you’re complaining about the high price of gas or having to wear a mask in your favorite grocery store, you need to be grateful that you have food on the table, are sleeping in your bed and not in an underground bomb shelter, and aren’t sewing your children’s blood type into their clothes before sending them off to school.

That certainly hit home with me yesterday when I had myself a little pity party, mostly because I have an infected tooth (no, it doesn’t hurt, thank you), I had a bloody nose (while eating lunch—lots of fun), Sophie threw up on the living room rug, and the few words I did write were uninspired and will be deleted later today. And on a weekend, when I usually have fun cooking, I was eating leftovers. The world seemed pretty bleak to me, and I guess I was determined not to see all my many blessings.

The saving grace of the day was that Jordan and Christian both came out for happy hour on the patio, and while we studied calendars and planned menus, we had several good laughs. And last night I finished a book that I much enjoyed—The Secret French Recipes of Sophie Valraux, by French chef Samantha Verant. You can read my review here: The Secret French Recipes of Sophie Valroux by Samantha Verant | Goodreads or here: Amazon.com: Customer reviews: The Secret French Recipes of Sophie Valroux.

Yesterday brought one other highlight (see? I’m getting better already at looking on the positive side). Every day I faithfully read “Letters from an American,” the column by Boston University history professor Heather Cox Richardson. If you don’t already know her, I recommend it. Yesterday I came across a one-on-one interview she did on February 25 with President Joe Biden. It was a momentous day: Russia invaded Ukraine, and President Biden nominated Ketanji Brown Jackson to be the first Black woman on the Supreme Court.

Biden spoke naturally but without hesitation, displaying a deep knowledge of American history and politics and a passionate belief in the ordinary people of our society. He is dedicated to maintaining democracy and to opposing those who would replace it with autocracy. (Side note: he pointed out there are fewer democracies in the world today than there were some years ago.) Already a fan of both Richardson and Biden, I was tremendously impressed. You can watch it here: Historian Heather Cox Richardson interviews President Joe Biden February 25, 2022 - Bing video

My instincts are not peaceful. I want to take every person who rails about Biden being weak or senile or not a leader, strap them in a chair, and force them to watch this. I know, I know, force is not the way to change minds. But there is a definite smear campaign against a man who was bold enough to take on the presidency in a time of unprecedented crises—pandemic, supply chain, rampant racism, cratering economy with high unemployment, climate crisis, etc. And now Putin has added the Ukraine invasion to the international scene. The campaign against Biden makes me angry to an extent my mom would have told me was unladylike.

While I’m on my not-so-peaceful instincts, I want to mention Margery Taylor Green and Lauren Boebert. Their behavior at the State of the Union confirmed what we all already knew: they are not fit to represent the American people. Uneducated, unknowledgeable, lacking class let alone grace and common sense, they need to be silenced. I truly don’t understand why at the least Speaker Pelosi has not moved to sanction them. If I knew how and who to ask I would.

I hope there’s a point to this rambling post. I think it is that if you look back on a day, it’s not quite as dismal as it seemed. We in this country are so blessed, and we need to fight for our way of life. Today I am over my pity party. Not exactly full of enthusiasm, but I’m getting there. Now to cut those unsatisfactory words out of Irene Keeps a Secret and get back to Irene’s misadventures—and murder.

World horror overwhelms the trivia of cold weather and hobby cooking

 

The national flower of Ukraine

Cold, wet days have become the norm this winter, and today was yet another one. I so wanted to crawl into my bed and hide there, and I did take a longer nap than usual, just because I was so warm and cozy. I just might slip back into bed earlier than usual tonight. The low is predicted to be 29, and tomorrow is not going to be a lot better.

Tomorrow is the Cowtown Marathon, and sometimes I think it is as predictable a weather forecaster as the stock show. All those years ago—1978—I remember sitting in our bedroom and hearing my then-husband swear forcibly, followed by, “Sleet. I did not want to hear sleet.” He was one of the lead organizers of the new venture. Next morning I piled four little kids into the car and headed for the Stockyards, over icy roads, to be part of the support crowd. I look back on that and wonder where my brain was. Oh to be young and fearless again.

As it is I did not poke my head out of the cottage today. Nor did I cook as I usually do on weekends. Still, it is sort of a foodie weekend. Last night I made a skillet of sauteed mushrooms and sweet onions. I honestly think I like the onions as well as the mushrooms—a new revelation for me. I sauteed them in olive oil and butter, added garlic and the white wine. After they were off the heat, I added lemon juice and zest. Jordan and I are the only ones who like mushrooms, but we enjoyed them.

My mushroom skillet

Not so good were the salmon balls I impulsively bought from Central Market. They had Parmesan, which I thought sounded good but now think made them dry. And they had too much of some herb—oregano, maybe. I kicked myself, thinking I could have made my regular salmon patties and we’d have been a lot happier.

Doris' casserole
with one serving out for guess who?

Today Jordan made family favorite Doris’ casserole (think American lasagna or something similar) to take to a neighbor who has just had surgery. I got some for my dinner, and it was delicious. Also a pretty casserole. The Burtons meanwhile have gone to an upscale sushi restaurant for a fundraiser. My sushi palate is not wide—I love salmon sashimi and I’ve had some lobster rolls I exclaimed over, but I’m not adventuresome—and they are downright stodgy. Far as I now, they stick to California roll because neither wants raw fish. The restaurant where they are going is so much for an “in the know” crowd that I had no idea how to order the one time I went. I will be interested in their report.

After a week of distractions ranging from doctor’s appointments to Zoom meetings and a Podcast interview, I am glad to say that I wrote 1300 words on Irene’s latest adventure today. But I find it hard not to watch the TV with one eye or check the news feed constantly. I am waiting of course for what will probably not happen—Putin returning to the negotiation table. The invasion he apparently expected to be a walk in the park has not turned out that way.

So many stories coming out of Ukraine to inspire us: the Russian battalion that surrendered because they thought they were on an information-gathering mission and had no idea they were expected to kill people; the old woman who gave Russian soldiers sunflower seeds (the national flower of Ukraine) to put in their pockets so that when they die on Ukrainian soil flowers will bloom; the families with young children who are making Molotov cocktails; the street signs that have all been changed in order to confuse Russians—now, in Russian, they read “Go f--- yourself.”

I’ll leave you tonight with one thought that came to me today as I contemplated the international condemnation of Putin and support for Ukraine: what would have happened if trump were still president. Nothing would have played out the same. President Biden has been the point man in organizing international sanctions and resistance, and he has done it with wisdom and grace. Just my opinion, but trump having alienated most of our allies, wouldn’t have known how to begin to get them to pull together and given his loyalty to Russia, probably wouldn’t have tried. Resistance would have been scattershot. As it is, with Biden at the helm and joined by other NATO allies, the reaction has been unified and forceful.

My mom always told me the gods work in mysterious ways their wonders to accomplish. Perhaps this is another instance. Pray for the people of Ukraine tonight, but also pray for the people of Russia who are innocent pawns in this mess and who are risking life and freedom to protest. Hardly a night to wish everyone, “Sweet dreams.”