White people suck!

Just watched I know Why the Caged Bird Sings, a 1979 TV movie based on the book written by and about Maya Angelou's early years. Even though the movie is old and has a grainy look, it doesn't matter because it's a period piece. So, the non-HD-3D-Blueray quality of the picture actually works for it, giving the movie an honest feel.

The movie starts in Stamp, Ark., at Maya Angelou's childhood home. It's set in the mid-1930s, Maya is about 9-10 years old. The story follows Maya and her younger brother who are being reared by their wise and strong grandmother and their beaten-down-but-loving great-uncle.

In one scene, Maya's uncle has to be hidden because they have been warned the Ku Klux Klan is on the hunt looking for adult black males to torture. It's a powerful scene. The children are instructed to empty the potato and onion bin in the family grocery store, great-uncle refused help to get inside, then the children put back the vegetables on top their uncle until he is fully covered. No words are spoken. It's obvious this is a familiar routine.

We also are witness to the poet's early love of reading and words. We begin to understand the genesis of this woman. A wonderful teacher ignited Maya's curiosity of a world outside of Stamp. Then, an early trauma - raped by her mother's boyfriend while she and her brother were in St. Louis - engendered an appreciation for a rural life lived at a slower tempo.

I've shown and watched this movie multiple times now, and in different settings. Last night's audience so obviously connected to the story, I was moved by their reactions: singing, clapping, laughing, even tears. I couldn't join in as I had no real personal stake in the story, except, maybe, for the antagonists. I caught myself feeling ashamed of my ethnicity, of my white brethren. This a horrible legacy that sadly still breathes today.

I don't really have a clever way to conclude today's blog. White people suck? Naw. Some do, some don't. I try not to.

It's official: I'm a socialist

I had a letter to the editor in last week's newspaper supporting healthcare reform. Apparently, I am a socialist. I also must be something of an idiot. Oh, and gullible too.

The letter prompted these revelations from readers. It's been a million years since I submitted a letter, what's different now is how people jump on them immediately ONLINE. Of course, they must follow some of the paper's rules, but I'm not so sure anyone is really monitoring this free-for-all. And, more than one misspelled my name. Geez.

We had gotten notice from BlueCross through Paul's work that we can add John back onto our insurance coverage. We'd been waiting for this to happen and were grateful to finally get 'er done. That was the gist of the letter, that we had benefited from the new healthcare law, but it wasn't a free gift to our family as we pay a hefty monthly premium as well as co-payments and deductibles. I also said something about appreciating having insurance and understanding many do not or can't afford health coverage. I ended the letter more or less thanking President Obama and the Democrats.

In this part of the country, saying you support ANYTHING connected to the administration is not well received. Obama supporters here are considered to be crazy low-lifes without morals or brains.

Do I exaggerate? I don't know. I do understand why my son can breathe a little easier on the East Coast. At least he is able to express his opinions and be respected. There just seems to be a drought of liberal opinion in these parts. A drought of respect too.

Fair enough

I believe that most people living outside of Texas generally hate Texas. My best bud Diane who lives in Iowa doesn't pull any punches. I have caught her mimicking a Southern accent as she references something about Texas, as though people with accents are dumb. Nothing subtle about her meaning. Then the Steven Colbert Report this week included clips of the Leander, Tx, school superintendent talking (with a Southern accent) about the district policy of requiring permission slips from parents for their students to watch the President's annual address to students. Again, making fun of the South, and Texas specifically. Even one of my relatives said "I would never live in Texas," in such a manner that made you think a person would have to be insane to even consider such a crazy idea. I could go on with examples of the Texas haters.

I don't take these comments personally. I also rarely point out the prejudice of the accent haters. As a South Dakotan living in Texas for 20 years, I appreciate that this state can give off a bad vibe. The state did produce George W. and the killer cheerleader mom. Don't get me started on our governor and his crazy secession talk.

But I gotta say, whether you believe it or not, this state has plenty to brag about. One of our favorite things about Texas is the State Fair. It's in Dallas and is the largest fair in the country. See, that's the kind of talk that turns other people off. I get it. But really, the State Fair in one of the things we look forward to all year. In fact, the opening day is tomorrow and Paul and I are going to be there when the gates open. We've mapped out our activities: creative arts building, dog show, bird show, car show, and then check out the new wacky fun stuff for sale. Last year we bought wooden frogs that sound exactly like a frog. We also got Sham Wows. The frogs continue to work. The Sham Wows don't. The year before I got a tryke scooter. Can't wait to buy something weird.

Of course there's also the food. I only want a corny dog this year. Don't care about all the fried beer or fried butter. Just a corny dog. And because it's the first day, it will be fried in fresh grease.

I will likely post pictures of the fair later this weekend. It's a great place to people watch. Like a wedding: it brings together a strange mix of folks. Wait until you see the photos before you pass judgment. That's all I ask.

Getting a divorce

I've made a decision. I'm getting a divorce. Moving on. Not looking back. I can't put it together anymore. We are a jumble of confusion and headed in a million directions. When it began, I relied on faith for direction. I knew the path was long, but it's gone too far off course for correction.

It's hard to abandoned something I've spent so much time nurturing. But it's the only way, the right thing to do. I need to get unstuck.

So, as of today, I am divorcing my first book draft and starting over.

You are my sunshine

Addie keeps us entertained. She is exploding with personality. She is good at letting you know what she wants. She is my sunshine.

Sleep tight, the bed bug hype is worse than their bite

Did you know that bed bugs can go a whole year without eating? 12 months! No food! I can't go 12 minutes without eating.

That's one of the big secrets to bed bug longevity. In fact, they've been around the U.S. since Colonial times, brought over by the first wave of immigrants. I know this about them because I have just come from the Bed Bug Institute website. First of all, can you believe there's a Bed Bug Institute? Really, it's a clearinghouse for other websites.

Of course we've all heard the recent nightmares about bed bug infestations. Especially in New York City. I hadn't really been paying attention as I operate on need to know basis. Well, now I need to know because I found out this week that one of the establishments I frequent has bed bugs in their furniture. I won't reveal the location because of the bed bug stigma, really almost hysteria. (It's not my house. I felt a selfish need to state that.)

Really, bed bugs are not that scary. When you find out more about them as I have, they're downright adorable. Here's a couple of useful things I found out:

- Bed bugs do not discriminate. The best homes as well as grand institutions (NYC Public Library) harbor them.

- Bed bugs don't carry disease. Apparently in all the research of bed bugs, not one study has shown them to make humans or animals sick. Itchy? Yes.

All this bed bug attention has given new meaning to the once benign warning, "Don't let the bed bugs bite." Really, I stopped saying it years ago. It seemed unnecessary to frighten my little children just before they were to fall asleep. Until recently, though, it still seemed something of an endearing thing to say to children, a sweet way to tease. Delivered with affection. But not anymore.

Maybe we can come up with an updated version of the old. How about:

- Let the bed bugs bite, don't put up a fight.
- Let the bed bugs bite, they only come out at night.
- If the bed bugs bite, squish 'em.
- Bed bugs are your friends, sleep tight.
- Sleep tight, bed bugs are alright.

Naw. They don't have the same sweet ring. I guess until we come up with something else, I can assure my children that their children (present and future) are safe. Grandma will never utter a word to them about bed bugs. She's back to need to know, and they simply don't need to know.

I must be doing something wrong

Last night was my support group night. I have the privilege of facilitating a weekly women's support group at a homeless shelter. I have been doing this on behalf of my agency since February, 2008. I am there in a professional capacity to impart my learned therapeutic methods that hopefully will be of some help to these women. Get it? I am there to help THEM.

So why do I almost always leave the shelter feeling better and inspired to go out into the world and do my best work? This is not supposed to be the way it goes. The group is for THEIR benefit, not mine.

Maybe it's not what I am doing wrong, it's what they are doing right. Here's a sampling of what I keep seeing:

1. Women who are mortified at the idea of coming to a shelter but do so for the sake of their children. They eat humble pie in order to feed their children.

2. Women who have been hurt by others in ways so horrifying, and still they willingly share with others their hope for the future.

3. Women without a home or transportation or employment speak of ways they want to help others.

4. Women living their faith.

5. Women speaking of all they are grateful for: life, their children, faith, the shelter ...

6. Women who persevere. They believe opportunity is around the corner. If not today, tomorrow. If not tomorrow, the next day.

I could go on. Each of these women has a story that could inspire even the hardest of hearts. The truth is, I shouldn't get paid for facilitating this group, I should be paying them. (Just don't tell my agency).

Newt's true colors

I think we may need to come up with a new word for politics. Too bad cannibalism already is taken.

Disgusting things are being said about our president. I know the same can be said about President Bush, but this is different. The vile pandering is coming from leaders in the Republican Party not just from the blogisphere fringe. Newt Gingrich, I believe, hit a new all-time low this week.

Gingrich is stirring the pot in the most ugly way. To say he's using racism doesn't adequately describe his message. It's even more cynical than that. He's aiming his vile propaganda at the most gullible in a calculating manner. He knows these are loyalists of his who will take up his words and repeat them as truth. Gingrich targets the most vulnerable to be used to do his dirty work, to spread the Newt virus that threatens to destroy our democracy.

I could make parallels here with other vile leaders (Amadenijad) but that would be too easy.

Here's what Gingrich said. I heard the audio of this last night and ripped the exact quote from the Sacramento Bee newspaper.

"What if (Obama) is so outside our comprehension, that only if you understand Kenyan, anti-colonial behavior, can you begin to piece together (his actions). This is a person who is fundamentally out of touch with how the world works, who happened to have played a wonderful con, as a result of which he is now president."

Why does this hit home? This summer a poll of Texas Republicans showed Gingrich the favorite to run for president.

Gingrich doesn't deserve our consideration. He's shown his true colors and they aren't red, white and blue.

Inflation

I am now down to the wire. No turning back. Time has run out. I gotta bite the bullet. Fish or cut bait. Colonoscopy time. Inflate the colon and take a look inside. It's got to be done. Of course the good news about this procedure is something called twilight sedation. I am going to focus on that. I could use a good sedation.

We will miss you!

Today is a goodbye day at work. Chauntae is leaving us, she was an intern for the last year. She's the kind of intern you will remember. Others you don't. I don't have to say why, that would be mean. I have told her she will likely be my boss some day. Decisive. Compassionate. Confident. Smart. Current. And she has a very cute little girl named Olivia.

I guess since she's going to be my boss, I don't have to say goodbye. I'll just say, you will be missed, Chauntae!

Karen Shearhart was her name

Our local newspaper, the Fort Worth Star Telegram, had a story today about a 56-year-old homeless woman who had died. Alex Branch was the writer. Karen Shearhart was her name.

She appeared older than her 56 years, hair neglected had grown long and was pulled into a wool hat. She wore long-sleeved flannel shirts and pants year-round. Karen Shearhart was her name.

She preferred to live on her own terms, which included living in a wooded area near downtown Fort Worth. The story described her as "disappearing into the woods" when she headed to her home. The story said she talked of seeking squatters' rights to the area in which she nested: large garbage bags filled with paper provided cushion to sleep on. A plywood board apparently shielded her from whatever she believed she needed shielding from. The picture and description of her wooded estate showed evidence she had staked her claim years ago. It was a place of importance in her life. Karen Shearhart was her name.

I wonder what she thought about her existence. The story didn't say what her mental illness was, but it was pointed out that she was kind and able to carry on a conversation. However, the conversation could be halted if she got angry at something said. She was familiar to several social services people. She showed up for free lunch sacks. Karen Shearhart was her name.

She apparently made this wooded area her home about 8 years ago. During that time many people tried to get her to "come in." She told them, the paper said, she didn't like the shelters. In this area, it's not unusual for single homeless men to be alone and living outside. It is unusual for a 56 year old woman to be homeless outside all by herself. She resisted help from nonprofit agencies, church agencies, individuals. She had a place to stay at night in the woods. Karen Shearhart was her name.

People were able to gain her trust. She showed them her appreciation with gifts of clipped coupons. Clipped coupons held value for her, makes sense she would give them to people she valued. Karen Shearhart was her name.

She grew up in Tarrant County and was my age, 56 years old. It was reported she had heart disease, although it appears it was the heat that took her life. Karen Shearhart was her name.

On August 23rd, workers at Catholic Charities were concerned they hadn't seen her for a few days, unusual as she participated in lunch program. So they walked to her wooded home and sadly found her fallen. She already had passed. Karen Shearhart was her name.

What's the lesson learned? Mental health care is complicated. Some really fine people did all they could to make this woman comfortable and safe. They kept tabs on her, let her know they cared what happened to her. A lot of people in nice houses don't have that. And apparently, they wanted others to know about her as they called the newspaper to do a story about her. Those who tried to help her already did everything they could for her, but perhaps felt they could do one more thing: share her story. Karen Shearhart was her name.

I had never heard of this woman before today and I was glad to know about her. Karen Shearhart was her name.

Time to put away your white shoes

Labor Day. End of summer. Start of school. Time to put away your white shoes until Easter (or is it Memorial Day?). Actually that last one is outdated. I did some research on this a few years ago - about the white shoes - and really, it's OK to wear white shoes 365 days a year. Not that anyone would want to wear white shoes 365 days... back to Labor Day.

Labor Day, according to Wikipedia, which I believe, originated in Pullman, Ill., in 1894. Railroad workers for the Pullman company near Chicago went on strike after their wages were reduced. The strike halted traffic going west out of Chicago. So Pres. Cleveland sends federal troops to Illinois to control the workers. This action worked, but also it set off a nationwide effort to unionize railroad workers, led by Eugene Debs. To appease the many people angered by his forceful actions, Pres. Cleveland then was forced to rush through Congress legislation for a National Labor Day.

Interesting Labor Day facts:

• Pres. Cleveland argued he had the right to send troops because the strike prevented the U.S. mail from being delivered.
• Both criminal and civil charges were filed against leaders of the strike. Eugene Debs was represented by Clarence Darrow.
• 13 strikers were killed by federal troops.
• Here's a Wiki icky: Railroad tycoon George Pullman remained unpopular even after his death in 1897. His burial site had to be steel reinforced to prevent haters from desecrating the site, including digging him up.

Rainy days and Thursdays...

I spent the day in bed yesterday, sickern' a dog. Sinus, cold, whatever. I had that tickle in my throat that wouldn't go away so I couldn't stop coughing. I went through an entire package of Ricola, mixed berry flavor. RIIII-COOOOO-LAAAAA.

Today is another day. I feel better. Just took some Alka Selzer for colds. No flavor. Don't like that in flavors. Ick. I'm not exactly 100 percent, but if I don't go to work today I don't get paid for Labor Day, which we have off. It's not that we're destitute, but I do have my own bills to pay.

My plan: Take Alka Selzer with me, buy some more Ricola, maybe a new flavor, pack tissues and paste a smile on my face. It's rainy outside, which helps. I don't know why, just seems to set a more appropriate backdrop.

I have to thank Paulie for his wonderful care yesterday. He went to the store for me and got soup, crackers and Sprite. And tissues. A variety of tissues, some with lotion, some without. He brought me tea. You are the greatest.

Now time to get ready for work.