The Poor Will Always Be With Us

I’ve been reading the responses to my blog – one set up for me by a fine friend who does not condemn me for my incurable Ludditism – and have discovered that I am, due to my fervor over the election, turning into a tiresome, one-note woman. Disconcerting, when I’ve always regarded myself as a player of many diverse tunes.

So I’d like to tackle the steep contrast between the sudden focus on obesity and the virtual lack of attention given to the growing number of people who are hungry. Hunger in America? Sure, as those with a knowledge of the Bible will tell anyone: the poor will always be with us. But out and out hungry? Food pantries running dry? Kids going to bed with rumblings in their empty tummies?

About the latter: No, not the sound of, say, jazz musicians tuning up before a gig, or brooks gurgling away in pristine surroundings. I am talking about the sound of stomachs yearning not only to be free, but for food. The kind of condition which makes learning difficult, and can lead to present and future manifestations of severe malnutrition.

Will someone out there, in the great, and to me unknown land of cyberspace, tell me what in the hell is going on? In our national game of dialing for dollars, must the wheel stop at weapons of exterminating life rather than allowing it to grow? And thrive? Soldiering-to-death vs. feeding-kids-to-adulthood? Bullet-scarred bellies vs. full ones?

Add this to our crumbling infrastructure, a health system that is a mockery, and gas prices whose only bright spot may well be a reduction in suicides in closed garages, and can you understand why I find it somewhat difficult to encourage someone to stop and smell the roses? Or sniff at the scented brush to be found on a certain spread of ranch out in Texas?

Comments?

Beyond the Pale

One would think that, long ago, Hillary’s statements would have passed the “beyond the pale” test. No so. This time she has chosen to raise the specter of assassination into her frantic quest for the White House.

That this country is not free of the scourge of racism is as self-evident as the indisputable fact that Hillary is in this race not for the good of the Democratic Party, but for her own enormous ego and greed for power and prestige. For her to have raised the issue of Bobby Kennedy’s death in June – a crucial month to the avaricious seeker of the nomination – is so close to insensitivity and inhumanity as to be frightening. Particularly since the time frame was so striking: the devastating news of Edward Kennedy’s prognosis.

I have gone from – yes, simply – deploring Hillary to active apprehension. What will she be capable of doing next? And next? We have a candidate, Barack Obama, who is not perfect; no one is. But the promise of the man, his intellect and good heart – these are worthy of optimism. And fervent support.

Re: comments, which are always welcome. Either pro or con. In the “pro” corner, I am so grateful to Larjmarj who seems to be so much on my wavelength. Luddite that I am, and fear I evermore shall be, it is impossible for me to communicate with you as much as I would like. But I do thank you.

Lost Cause

The phrase “lost cause” carries with it more than a whiff of something noble. Or not. When I think of how often our Civil War is associated with those two words, my gorge rises. This particular “cause” had to do with slavery.

But that’s past history; the future of our country is being tainted by the inability of Hillary Clinton to accept the hard fact that her “entitlement” to White House occupancy is a lost cause. This inability – prompted by a combination of massive ego and a near-pathological denial of reality – is putting the outcome of this crucial election in jeopardy.

Barack Obama has proven himself – via popular votes, as well as his very being – worthy of occupying the Oval Office next January. That he will defeat the fumbling, dangerous John McCain, so inextricably linked with the Bush administration, is palpable.

But there’s the seemingly immovable barrier – this Clintonian tendency to distort truth, mangle facts and figures and exhibit a callous disregard of the havoc her behavior is causing the Democratic Party.

It is both infuriating and heartbreaking, and as of this writing, I’m not sure just which emotion is paramount within me as I type these words.

Comments?

Squandering Our Capital

We are told it is unwise to spend all our capital. To hang onto at least some of it, particularly in these perilous times.

Capital. Reputation. Respect. Good Will. All these, and more, are being squandered by Bill and Hillary Clinton in the shameful campaign they are waging against a man who is no match for their mendacity.

Racism, sexism, lies, slander, insinuations with no basis in fact; the list is endless. I cannot vote for the confused warrior John McCain, but if the Clintons persist – through their tricks – to wrest the presidency away from Barack Obama, I will be hard put to vote for a woman who shows unmistakable evidence of being a compulsive liar. Whose lust for this office is frightening.

Agree? Disagree? Tell me…

Red Shoes

In the late ‘40s, a movie called “The Red Shoes” – which has since become a classic – detailed the way in which said shoes developed a life of their own, causing the death of the beautiful ballerina who could not arrest their movements. It is a complex film; an exploration of obsessive devotion to one’s art.

The Pope’s predilection for wearing red shoes brought the movie to mind, and his comments at the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in Washington, D.C. evoked the obsessive compulsion of the Pontiff to turn the Catholic Church’s shame into a lecture on the evils of secularism.

We all know why the head of the Church avoided Boston during his trip: scene of the most horrific sexual abuse by members of his flock on the youth of the city’s parishes. In his papal way, the Pope managed to tie such abuse – and countless others – to the general lowering of values caused by “the subtle influence of secularism.” As a proud non-believer, this seems to stretch the truth into the arena of – horrors! – mortal sin. One warranting confession and absolution for even the Pope.

I admit to stretching, too. To the confluence of Hillary – and we all know she is a bastion of truth and integrity – pointing manicured fingers at every sentence coming out of the mouth of her splendid opponent for the presidency, Barack Obama. Attempting to divert attention from one’s own malfeasance in office to the supposed defects in another, is an approach favored by those who tout sanctity in both the religious and political arenas.

To quote Obama, “for shame” on both their houses – the Pope’s and Hillary’s.

Comments? Rebuttals? All are welcome…

Hope

As a ridiculously devout abstainer of all things technological – someone who has a symbiotic relationship with my beloved IBM Selectric II typewriter – I am so grateful to friends who make joining the current century possible for me. This blog is turning out to be a joy: getting political and personal feelings and thoughts out of my head – heretofore only available by way of newspaper/magazine print – and out on the space highway.

Barack Obama. Not since I gave my allegiance to Bobby Kennedy have I felt so inspired and hopeful for true, meaningful, purposeful change. Yes, that word has been short-changed and even demeaned by people like McCain and Hillary; however, this man, this incredible man with his incredible heritage, makes the daily indignities of life bearable.

Those who bring him down; those determined to blame him for his pastor’s words; those who continue to support the chameleon-like Hillary, in spite of her racist rhetoric, bewilder me. A determination to feel “entitled” to be president, no matter the destruction of the party she represents, bewilders me.

I remember, during Bobby’s tragically brief campaign, people reaching out to him. To touch him. To make contact with him, no matter how brief the connection. And I see it now with Obama – the urge to make contact, even momentarily, with a person of exquisite verbal magic. But his words aren’t superficial, nor said for effect; they have deep roots in his very being. In his heart and superb cortex.

Hope. I still have hope that this country will realize the potential of Barack Obama, and for his capacity to create enlightment and reconciliation. For restoring our country’s reputation and regard in this troubled world of ours.

Romance

Once upon a time, songs and poems asked questions, both poignant and whimsical. A poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning both asked and answered a forthright one: “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.” Hell, even Freud mused – with a bewildered lilt to his musing: “What do women want?”

Which led me to remembering a vintage song – “Isn’t it Romantic?” A love song; a melodious love song. Now, the word “romantic” has taken on a brand new hue – a new place in our lexicon – for our president has used it in connection with our invasion and occupation of Iraq. George W. Bush recently opined, as only he can, that war is romantic. That our brave young men and women are engaged in a romantic endeavor, and that he, yes he, envies them.

We have become accustomed to listening to the rantings of a man to whom English is a third language, but this time it takes the – if not the cake – the vacant doughnut hole. Soldiers in a deliberately chosen war, who are dying for no reason, are taking part in a romantic adventure? Seeing residents of a sovereign country slaughtered, and its infrastructure destroyed is romantic? Having our VA hospitals overflowing with the mentally and physically damaged is romantic? Death is romantic?

If we elect John McCain, this romanticism will continue. If we elect Hillary Clinton, whose salivating obsession to return to the White House is paramount, we may well be succumbing to a different kind of nostalgic romanticism. Barack Obama has no notions about combining romance with death, devastation and destruction. His is the kind of reasoned, compassionate intellect which forbids confusing romance with providing excuses for ending life.

This is written not only more in sorrow than anger, but in a full court despair. Yet, with hope still lingering in the corners of my outraged heart and head.