Holiday Week

Thanksgiving week. Am I grateful? You betcha!

But I'm scared too. I know just enough about economics to understand what dire straits the world and the USA are in right now. I know just enough to know that this isn't going to change overnight, regardless of who the President is. I know just enough to know that this will not turn around on January 20th, but will take 3 - 7 years before there is real relief. And sadly, I know just enough to know that I am on the wrong side of the equation to not be in trouble along with millions of other Americans. That said, I'm still grateful, for many things.

I can't believe how quickly this year has gone by. Late November already. It will soon be 2009. Each day, I put one foot in front of the other and keep going. Except Sunday's. On Sunday's I try not to take any steps. I sometimes succeed.

The weather here in Jax has been chilly by northern standards, very cold by Florida standards. It's nice during the day, freezing in the house at night. We are trying to keep the electric bill down, so we've been layering in the house and using blankets in the den to keep warm. Two days ago I dragged out a big blanket that a little cub keeps here and me and the dogs have been taking shelter of it.

Wednesday afternoon F and I will make our way to south Florida to spend the holidays with my family. I'm looking forward to it, but also looking forward to it being over. The rest of the holidays will be stress free. We have no $$, and we won't be doing gifts this year. We are in the majority on this one, I think. I feel no stress to spend. I feel no stress about not being able to give to friends and family. Something changes as you age. So many things fall away. And it's so ok when they do.

I will end with this last thought that I read in an email this week, "We have no time for impatience."

His Holiness the Dalai Lama Congratulates
US President-elect Barack Obama

Barack Obama last met His Holiness the Dalai Lama in 2005 at a Senate Foreign Relations Committee event (Photo: barackobama.com)

November 5, 2008

H. E. Barack Obama
President-elect of the United States of America
Washington, DC U.S.A.

Dear President-elect Obama,

Congratulations on your election as the President of the United States of America.

I am encouraged that the American people have chosen a President who reflects America's diversity and her fundamental ideal that any person can rise up to the highest office in the land. This is a proud moment for America and one that will be celebrated by many peoples around the world.

The American Presidential elections are always a great source of encouragement to people throughout the world who believe in democracy, freedom and equality of opportunities.

May I also commend the determination and moral courage that you have demonstrated throughout the long campaign, as well as the kind heart and steady hand that you often showed when challenged. I recall our own telephone conversation this spring and these same essential qualities came through in your concern for the situation in Tibet.

As the President of the United States, you will certainly have great and difficult tasks before you, but also many opportunities to create change in the lives of those millions who continue to struggle for basic human needs. You must also remember and work for these people, wherever they may be.

With my prayers and good wishes,

Yours sincerely,

THE DALAI LAMA

The First Baseman

I use to be a writer. Years ago, when I was in the fourth grade, I wrote my first short story. It was my first attempt at creative writing and it was a class assignment. I called the story "The First Baseman," and yes, it was about my one true love at the time, baseball. I don't remember much about the story and I have no copy of it. But I do remember how lost I was in the process of writing the story and what a satisfying experience it was. I also remember that on the basis of that story, I was put into a high level English class. In the fourth grade we sat in the same seat, with the same teacher and classmates, day in and day out for the whole school year. Post story, I was leaving 3 days a week to sit it on an advanced English class. I had never been singled out in such a way up to that point in my life.

During my high school years I continued to spend time writing short stories and very bad poetry for my own pleasure. By that time I was in an all-girls Catholic school in the Bronx, and we were all knee deep in the 60's experience. I still have the notebook that I kept much of that personal writing in. The few times I 've picked it up to read what I had written 40 years ago (how the hell did that happen?) I cringed and put it down quickly.

During those years I wrote freely and without self-consciousness. As a matter of fact, it was one of the very few things I was NOT self-conscious about. Adolescence was a painful, torturous time for me, and I retreated to my writing as the only haven available. I didn't want to "be" a writer back then. I was a writer. Defining a writer as someone who writes, without regard to the quality or commercial value of it, I was very much a writer and worked at it almost daily.

As I got older I relied less and less on writing as an emotional and psychic outlet and engaged instead in rehab, verbal communication with others and, to put it bluntly, acting out. I lost my inner voice for writing. Every once in a while I'd get a desire to write again, but while I think about writing I can't think of what to write.

Could it be that after having lived for more than half a century that I have less to say than I did when I was 10 or 16 years old? Or is it that I have nothing to say at all regardless of how long I have lived? Perhaps I am just really self-conscious about it now. Maybe I've let go of all the modesty and uptightness I had in my youth in all areas and moved it to the expression of my inner voice. I wrote a series of essays on gay history in the late eighties that was published in some local gay and lesbian newspapers in NYC, but beyond that I have only written in my journal and this blog, and I consider neither real writing. This, to me, is journaling. Journaling has its value, but it is a behind the scenes precursor to writing, making art, or just finding balance in my life. It is not a final product.

I'm stuck. I want to write again, and I don't. I don't even know where to begin. Rather than sit with this, as I usually do, I am writing it and putting it out there. Not to get feedback or advice. Just to get it out of me. So, if all I write about is not writing, well, at least I've written something.

a Nano world

My friend josh came to Jax and visited this past weekend. We had a lot of fun hanging out. We went to the Ballet, ate Indian food at the very good "Cilantro" restaurant, dined at our favorite Italian restaurant, Vito's, gabbed a lot, and in general enjoyed our time together. It was my birthday weekend and josh was a generous friend. She gave me several gifts which I enjoyed very much (a restaurant card, a book store card, dinner out for F and I, and a wonderful Obama t-shirt! Lovely. My parents were generous, giving me cash, as did Lori.

I got a Nano iPod and I love it. I have not really been so much into music lately. Partly because I haven't really had a means of listening to it. I listen to music when I am in my studio. I'm not usually in my car long enough to do more than catch a bit of NPR. I listen to NPR when I can at work. Since I've had the iPod I have listened to music everyday. I've learned to download free mp3 files on line, I opened an itunes acct and have actually bought music downloads! I don't feel like such an old fart now.

Coincidently, while at the Ballet, it was the Florida Ballet Company's 30th Anniversary Show, both josh and I (as well as F and probably many others there) were introduced to the music of Rufus Wainwright. Curtis Williams, a gifted dancer/choreographer, choreographed a piece for 4 dancers with 4 tunes written and performed by Rufus on his "Release the Stars" album. The first song, "Going to a Town" really grabbed me. It's hard to explain, but while watching the dance I was really listening to the song. The music wasn't secondary. I was hearing the lyrics. I was both enjoying it, paying attention to it, wondering who it was, hoping to hear more, all while watching this interesting dance.

The four of us, Lori, F, josh, and I, all talked about it on the way home. The following day, josh decided she needed to buy some Rufus albums. She got four of them, all of which wound up on my iPod in very short order. I can honestly say that I haven't been as struck by a singer/songwriter in a long time. I'm really enjoying listening to his music. Here's a sample of "Going to a Town" by Rufus Wainwright. Enjoy!

The Morning After

I was jittery all day yesterday about the election. I was afraid to be too hopeful. Over the last 3 days F had been asking over and over again, who do you think will win. All I could say was that I hoped Obama would win. I hoped the polls were true. I hoped it wasn't going to be a cruel joke at the end of all this. I hoped we weren't going to have more of the same. I stopped short of stating that I thought Obama would win. Not because I didn't want to be wrong, or jinx Obama, but because I couldn't trust that the media was telling the truth and not just making a story. I couldn't trust that white folks of my age and older would see beyond race and vote for the man with the better plan for America's future. I couldn't trust that the election wouldn't be stolen by the same demons that stole the last two elections.

I came home from work and prepared dinner, did my night time chores, and settled F in after work. We began watching CNN just as the first of the polls were closing. The early returns were frightening. Obama was not getting the first good returns. As the evening wore on, and quite rapidly as each time of poll closings occurred, Obama's momentum built stronger and stronger. I don't remember what time he was actually projected to be the winner by CNN, but it was before my usual bedtime. And still, I didn't trust it.

I went to bed and turned the TV on. I watched as John McCain made his concession speech. He was gracious and generous and open about his willingness to continue his bi-partisan cooperation. That's when I allowed that maybe I could trust the result.

By the time Obama came on to greet the crowd and make his first speech as President-elect, I knew and trusted that he won the election. Obama has a clear mandate across this nation. This is something no one in the White House has had for quite a long time. Bill Clinton didn't have a mandate, as popular as he was, he never got 50% of the popular vote.

More important than Obama's mandate is the excitement he has generated across the generations to do more, to be better citizens. There is no more invisibility for Generations X and Y, the groups of people that followed the boomer generation; the groups that lived in the shadow of the largest generation ever, in the world, not just in America. The groups that have certainly gotten my attention by how they have changed how they believe and, more importantly, how they behave across racial, gender, and sexual orientation lines.

I have said several times in the past, and still believe of my generation, the boomer generation, that never before in the history of the world has a generation aspired to do so much and accomplished so little. So maybe, the only accomplishment of my generation was to raise a generation that can and will accomplish what my generation was only able to dream.

The other day I heard Andrew Young say that Barak Obama did not have the scars he himself had. That really struck me. I really understood that. Barak Obama did not grow up in Jim Crow America. He grew up in a multi-racial family, part of both races, influenced by both races, a product of both races. He has often said that his white grandparents poured everything they had into him. That's a very different experience than having a relationship with white people that is filled only with obstacles and closed doors.

The same is true for the two younger generations in America today. They don't have the scars my generation have. They don't have the experience of hoping, dreaming, and having leaders who can make the dreams reality, one after the other, shot down, murdered, eliminated. They don't have the experience of being afraid to hope -- afraid to believe in leaders -- afraid their adulation will make their heroes a target. I'm so glad they don't have that. I'm so glad for them that they are free to believe, without reservation or cynacism. I need them to keep going, regardless of what happens. I need them to do what we could not. The country needs them to do what we could not.

Last night as I watched and listened to President-elect Barak Obama's speech I sat awed with tears flowing. I heard what he stood for, what he believed we needed, what he aspired to accomplish, and who he hoped would get on board with him. I was struck by the fact that through most of this campaign I missed it. I missed what they all saw in him. I was stuck in Hillary Clinton. I was stuck in something I trusted, rather than something that felt too scary to me. I started to get it a few weeks ago. I did come around. I did vote for Obama, not against McCain. I'm glad to be on board, too. I'm still afraid. I'm afraid for him. I'm afraid for his life. I'm afraid for Clio, and her generation, that they will have their dreams shattered in an awful way.

So, while this was an election, a political event, it is also a very personal event. It is a new day. A brighter outlook for this country and for the world. Though he rarely spoke ot it, I see the road Obama is walking as a road toward peace.