What I want from my political party

 

It’s a lovely dark and dreary, rainy morning in North Texas. My garden is soaking up steady rainfall. A perfect day for curling up with a book and taking a nap. But, alas, I have politics on my mind.

Anyone who’s read more than two words I’ve written knows that I am a proud lifelong Democrat, prone to speaking out often and loudly. My brother compares me to a dog with a bone, and he’s probably right. This morning, I’m thinking of Michelle Obama’s classic statement, “When they go low, we go high.” She was spot on with her advice. Let me count the ways they go low—I probably can think of a thousand, but that’s not where my mind is this morning.

I get at least 200 emails a day, especially now that election day is a mere two weeks away. Most of them are whining that we’re losing, begging for money, declaring disaster if I don’t send $5 or $25, reminding me that their election is the one the nation’s entire future hinges on. This morning, one screamed in boldface that President Biden had just smashed Mitch McConnell. Now personally I think McConnell is a pretty nasty man and has done a lot of smashing of others. He probably deserves whatever he got. But that’s not what I want from my party. Yes, in some ways the goal is to beat the Republicans. But there is, and should be, a far nobler goal—and that is to govern our country for the betterment of all people. Beto talks about what he will accomplish for Texas—what a refreshing change of tone.

There is so much today that Democratic candidates should be shouting from the rooftops. Did you know that President Biden has reduced the national deficit by more than any president—in just two years. Did you realize that crime, especially murder, s uniformly higher in red states than blue? (Ask the governor of Oklahoma, who just learned that lesson the hard way in a debate with his opponent; she has statistics to prove it.) Unless you’ve been hiding under a rock you know that employment is way up, unemployment down. Democrats have had lots of other victories in Biden’s two years in office, yet campaign after campaign goes on the defensive against Republican’s outrageous and untrue accusations. No, Biden didn’t cause inflation; no, Democrats didn’t open the border and say, “Ya’ll come on, now.” No, Democrats are not baby killers. No, the Democratic Party is not the party of extravagant spending, running up the national deficit (a hint: that’s Republicans with ginormous tax cuts to the rich).

The list is endless, but If you keep up with the real news you know these things. Unfortunately a lot of knee-jerk voters believe what they hear on TV and see on Facebook. I love the comment by one observer that he couldn’t believe Americans would accept a dictatorship if they could save a quarter on a gallon of gas.

I wish my party would take the high road. Stop bashing Republicans, stop accusing them (that’s their despicable game). But perhaps wiser heads know more than I do. Whereas I desperately want civility, the collegiality of Congress before Reagan, in the days of Tip O’Neil, perhaps political consultants know that chaos and drama draw attention. Democrats tend to be lower key than Republicans. Trump is of course outrageous in his flair for drama and many of hs colleagues follow. The media loves drama, so the story is too often about the Republicans. Maybe our blue candidates believe they have to compete on the turf that’s given them. If so, God Bless. But I long for a party that will go high, and an electorate who will appreciate that.

Or maybe we should go back to the days of Lincoln when it was considered unseemly for a candidate to speak publicly on his own behalf. The Lincoln/Douglas debates broke the mold, and maybe we should blame it all on them.

I just heard a touch of thunder. Time to curl up with that book.

Walking on the sunny side of the street

 

Jordan's Cobb Salad for our dinner
So good, and a great way to use what's in the fridge;
with a quick, creamy dressing I've just discovered

For many of us, internet exchanges these days are too often confrontational. There are so many outrages in our world, so many lies and distortions, that I cannot resist commenting. So a couple of recent pleasant exchanges were wonderful surprises.

One had to do with fast food. When someone mentioned Chick Fil-A, I commented that I liked the food but will not patronize them for political reasons. A woman I don’t know responded that she chose her food for taste and not politics nor friendship and wasn’t that okay. I responded that of course it’s okay, but I just choose not to enrich the coffers of a corporation that espouses inhumane philosophies. The same, I added, is true of Hobby Lobby. It’s okay for people to believe whatever they want, but when it negatively affects and hurts others, it breaks a certain boundary. I can, at least, I said, give my beliefs some weight through action. The woman who asked thanked me for explaining my position and commented that it would be nice if all of us could talk in that way on social media.

The other incident was a few days ago. A woman posted from a very conservative point of view, and when I disagreed (I must learn to keep my indignation to myself) she wrote, “That’s my opinion, and you are entitled to yours.” I replied that while I totally disagree with her, I admired her civility, and she thanked me, said she wished everyone could be polite.

This has also been a day of introspection for me. I have realized that in addition to being outspoken about politics and social culture, I am really good at knowing what other people should do with their lives. It’s hard for me to keep quiet. But with age, hopefully, comes a bit of wisdom. Today a good friend told me she was going to do something I thought totally wrong for her situation, but I managed to say why, once, and then let it go. And I will be supportive of the course of action she chose.

The weather is part of the reason I’ve been so introspective today. Rain has threatened all day but stayed to the west of us. Tonight, it is moving closer, and Jordan says we expect a storm with possible hail by nine. Actually, I have found the last two days kind of depressing—gray skies, heavy humidity, neither hot nor cold. And apparently tomorrow is supposed to be even worse. Ah, springtime in Texas.

Jacob, with the wisdom of fourteen years, said tonight it would be cool if we had a tornado, and I wondered what had become of the little boy who was so terrified of storms. Once he insisted that I hide in my closet with him. Fortunately, it was a long, walk-in closet with plenty of room. He had put a chair, a candle, and a glass of wine in there, getting it all ready for me. Then he settled himself with a pillow on the floor. If I remember correctly, I had a book and contentedly read until he deemed it safe for us to emerge. Other times, in storms, he would silently come from the trundle in “his” room to my bed and crawl in without a word of explanation. Sadly, those days are long gone, but now, Sophie comes close to that, though if she gets on the bed, she is uncomfortable and antsy and soon jumps off, all of which is not conducive to my sleep.

So here I sit, the world growing dark around me, with a glass of wine and a good book. Let it storm—only no hail or tornado, please!

Birthdays, turkey day, and elections

There he is—Ford Hudgeons, newly twelve years old, in the TCU shirt I sent him. Ford is in the middle of my grandchildren, neither the oldest nor the youngest. But he is distinguished by being the absolute best TCU fan in the bunch. For some time, his ambition was to play soccer for TCU, but he has played so many sports—including on the Austin all-city baseball team—that I don’t know what sport he’ll choose for college. But I sure am encouraging those TCU leanings. We have occasional happy weekends when his mom brings him to Fort Worth for a TCU game of one kind of another. His dad and brother stay behind and do dumb things like go off in desert country and shoot at targets.

It’s getting close to Thanksgiving. I was leafing through the November Bon Appetit today and was struck by the editor’s story of the year his mom introduced a new stuffing. She was severely chastised and threatened not to do that again. Actually, I don’t care a lot about stuffing. I grew up on “northern” white bread stuffing and like it with some gravy. But I’ve fallen into a family of southern girls who make cornbread stuffing, and I’m not crazy about the texture. The magazine had a recipe for stuffing with apricots and mushrooms—now I could go for that. We never “stuff” the bird anymore—it’s a side dish, just like mashed potatoes, green bean casserole.

One of my southern girls also changes the traditional green bean casserole recipe—heresy! Her version is good, but I long for the plain old green beans, mushroom soup, and French’s fried onion rings. In his opening essay, the editor suggested that Thanksgiving is 90% about cooking and 10% about eating. I think that’s true. I’m just never the one in charge of the kitchen anymore—a benefit/problem of old age. I remember when I was the head cook.

One thing I wondered as I read the magazine: why is everything charred these days? I don’t like a burnt taste. They had recipes for chicken soup with charred cabbage—okay I could happily eat chicken soup with cabbage, but the charred doesn’t appeal. Or shaved carrots with charred garlic? I read that as burnt garlic. Even my grandkids used to accuse me of burning things—and now people do it on purpose?

And then there’s politics, more so these days as the election draws closer. I am distressed by the vitriolic posts on Facebook, and I long to have a reasonable discussion with someone. Instead, I am told I’m an idiot for my opinions and even questions I raise. I have had several messages that call President Obama a POS and one that declares he and Hillary collaborated to murder Judge Scalia in a plot to put a Democrat on the Supreme Court. Really? I’d love to see the evidence. I’d like to ask someone why they’ll vote for Cruz and why they accept trump’s dismissal of the Khashoggi torture/murder and his hyper-tweets that place Middle Eastern terrorists in the midst of the immigrant caravan. My favorite meme of the day: Middle Eastern terrorists who want to slip into the country always fly into Honduras and walk the rest of the way.

What has happened to civility and common sense? I was delighted that the Dallas Morning News endorse Beto O’Rourke for his efforts to bring unity to the country. Remember the words of Lincoln: A house divided against itself cannot stand.

Piece by piece--and civility, Democrats, and what have you

 That’s how slow progress on the cottage seems, but today was a red letter day. We went from this

to this.

The new couch will be easier to work with because of its solid color. Big advantage: it’s a hide-a-bed. Every time I’ve had one I’ve sworn never again, but this will be handy for the occasional out of town guest or for grandkids who might want to sleep in the cottage—dare I hope?

At any rate, that’s one more piece of the puzzle, and it makes me all the more anxious to get in the new space. I understand this week they’re making my cabinets for kitchen and bathroom—another step forward. I can see the sitting area in my mind and am wondering how close it will eventually come to the picture in my mind.

Other than that, it’s been a political day. I’ve had the Democratic convention on off and on, and until tonight it distressed me. The Democrats were in as much chaos as the Republicans had been and were, to my dismay, as rude. Even Nancy Pelosi was booed. What do you do when the party you’ve given your life to boos you?

I know in part this anger is directed toward Debbie Wasserman-Schultz, who is now out of the picture, but I haven’t kept up with the details of why everyone’s angry with her. I gather it has something to do with dirty tricks to keep Bernie from being the Democratic nominee—which only proves both parties can do dirty tricks. Another sad commentary on our society.

It’s all part of a pattern that’s been discussed a lot—not so much the dumbing down of America (though that’s a real concern too) but the loss of civility. It’s easy for someone like me, a senior citizen, to look at the younger generations and wrong my hands, thinking of all that’s gone wrong. I’m not generally prone to that kind of thinking, but I am appalled at the loss of manners and civility. At first I thought it was simply the Republicans because Trump encourages such antics, but when it appears in the Democratic Party too, I’m afraid it’s a general loss of civility. Who among us was raised to boo at a speaker? What happened to courteous attention. When Bernie followers even boo at him, we’ve reached a low point. How can I teach my grandchildren manners when they have these examples in front of them? (Actually my grandchildren are much more polite than the people at the conventions.) Maybe it’s a crowd mentality?

I wish we could figure out a way to reward good manners and punish rudeness, but you can’t legislate these things. Thankfully tonight the convention seems more unified—hope I haven’t spoken too soon.

I read a lot by people who post on Facebook that they will never discuss politics because you can’t ever change anybody’s mind. That may be true, but I read a moving post by a woman who said she feels she has a moral obligation to speak out against the threat that Donald Trump poses to this country and our way of life. So watch for me to speak out—but in civil terms.

The significant and the truly insignifcant

The significant: I watched the Democratic debate in Flint, Michigan tonight and was struck by the civility. There was no hatred, no anger, no slinging of insults and certainly no talk of private parts. As Hillary said, “I will not get in the gutter with an opponent.” But more important to me, there was less talk about what’s wrong with America and threats from Mexico and Isis than about what the two candidates proposed to do if elected. Secretary Clinton scored highest on this, to my mind, because she seemed to have very specific plans in mind for every problem sent her way, from what to do about schools and the infrastructure to her personal faith and how she would run a campaign against Donald Trump. Senator Sanders talked more about what’s wrong with America and he was spot on—the wealthiest nation in the world with a horrible record of caring for our children and elderly. But when asked what he would do as president, he seemed to have great goals but not as specific plans for reaching them, especially without support from Congress, which he likely wouldn’t have. My impression? Secretary Clinton would make the best leader of our country, but I sure do like Bernie a lot.

An apology: I attributed a comment about the poor being like feral cats to Paul Ryan in last night’s blog. He didn’t say it—some minor Republican said it a few years ago and used the term stray instead of feral. I should learn to check Snopes and not believe everything I read on Facebook.

The less significant: I cooked dinner for the Burtons last night. Wanted shoulder lamb chops but Central Market had sold out, so I got what I swear was labeled Lamb London Broil. Asked the lady butcher how to cook it, and she said she’d have to research that (??!!). Winged it—seared them in anchovy butter and finished in a hot oven. Misjudged the timing because the meat was fairly thick, and it came out more well done than Christian and I like, though perfect for Jordan. Served with oven-roasted rosemary potatoes, green beans vinaigrette (Christian’s green beans), and salad. Tonight I had a sandwich of leftover meat—flavorful and good, but I’m not convinced it was lamb.

The truly insignificant: last night I poured myself a good-night glass of wine and then cleverly used the bottle to knock the glass off the counter and spill wine all over the floor. Mopped it up with a rug I keep handy for kitchen accidents and returned the wine to the fridge, only to realize if I wanted good-night wine, I had to pour another glass. Did and realized I had cracked the plastic glass badly and it was leaking wine all over. Put it in the sink and went searching for the plastic glasses that Jordan had carefully put away for me. Now that’s a hard-won glass of wine. Jordan says I need a sippy cup.

Tonight good friends came for happy hour, and I fixed a tray of leftover appetizers. We had a good visit, and after a day alone I enjoyed the company. Life is good, and God is generous with his blessings.