The power was out last night for a big chunk of Omaha. I drove around town looking for hot fast food and every McDonalds was closed. That's how I knew it was bad.
I had spent the early part of the evening stuck at work. I had headed home twice but had been stopped by the high winds and common sense which told me I was safer where I was for the moment. Some people left anyway and I have no doubt many of them ended up with hail-damaged cars and stalled on flooded roads. When the winds finally died down and it felt safe enough to leave I passed along highway 75 North headed home and the southbound lanes, only a few feet away but separated by construction barriers, were flooded.
When I got to my neighborhood the traffic lights weren't working but the people had the intelligence to automatically turn it into a 4-way stop, driving politely and in an orderly fashion. My kind of people. Intuitively smart and organized. No traffic cops in sight and none needed.
By 9:00pm I was starving. I wanted a hot meal, not the cold food that was spoiling in my refrigerator, so I was finally forced by hunger to leave home in search of food. I instinctively started towards West Omaha but it was instantly clear that things only got worse in that directon. All of the lights were out and all of the businesses closed. At 132nd and Maple, the home of my Baker's, several power line utility poles had been blown down by the strong winds and crews were out working on them. Traffic was routed south.
Most of the traffic lights weren't working. I drove through the busier parts of my neighborhood surveying the damage. The Omaha police force was out directing traffic at the major intersections. Giving up hope of finding food, I decided to head towards the bar where at least I would find the comfort of good company, good music, and good drink. But the bar was closed. Apparently the damage was widespread.
On the way there I had to enter the other, neglected part of Omaha, the part that the city government seems to ignore or at least considers less important. Things were worse than I thought. 90th and Maple, usually an ok area, was like the land that time forgot. It was a drive deeper and deeper into chaos. No policemen in sight. Trees and debris still littered the streets. Some folks were smart enough to treat the major intersections as if they were 4-way stops, but others had no clue and either sat there in their cars holding up traffic or driving randomly into the intersection with no sense of order. Bless their hearts, these were definitely not my people.
When I got closer to the bar in Benson the IQ seemed to go back up again. There is for some reason a series of traffic lights, one after the other, in the middle of streets instead of at intersections. I imagine these were placed there in the old days to allow the people to cross the streets safely to go into the businesses, but now it just seems odd and antiquated, but also quaint and sweet. In fact that's how the people were driving...cautiously, carefully, not systematically and clean like in my neighborhood but with a different kind of system that indicated an awareness and politeness for all the foot traffic in the area.
By now I was really hungry and getting cranky. I drove back towards West O a different way, along Military which had to be better than driving down Maple where at one intersection the people seemed to be trying to drive in order but there were too many who wouldn't follow the system. At that intersection I did something that is uncharacteristic for me: I lost my temper. I honked at a car that drove out into the middle of the street. "Relax!" yelled a man as I drove past him sitting at the bus stop on the same corner. He was right. I needed to relax. These are the types of conditions that either bring out the compassionate side or the worst in people. In my defense, I was also hormonal.
Finally I found a Burger King that was open. It was located, of all places, at 72nd and Sorensen, considered a "bad part" of Omaha but in a newer and relatively nice area. I smiled at the fact that, in the midst of all that had happened, it was this section of town that was up and running.
The entire drive had looked like something out of the beginning of a disaster movie. Traffic everywhere as if people were looking for something...food....answers...lights...other people.
I got my food and headed home. I promised myself that I would make use of this experience by making a list of all the things I'd realized I needed. I mentally added cans of tuna and baked beans to the list. Should I get a generator? A grill? If this ever happens again I want to be prepared so that I can be hospitable and helpful to people, not cranky at them.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Sunday, June 15, 2008
And a child shall lead them: 4 Boy Scouts
When I wrote "Tornado" a few days ago it was because it seemed like a good story. I almost left the word "surviving" out of the title because to use that word implied that there was a possibility of not surviving and honestly that thought never entered my head. I believed when I went to sleep that night that I would wake up the next day, though to what I didn't know. There were no fatalities that night and no reason to expect that there would ever be any this season. "Surviving" was just a word.....just a title....just for sensationalist purposes. I have since taken it out.
Who am I that I should even know one, much less two, of the young boy scouts who were killed in the tornado last week? I have been in Omaha for not quite two years. I have no kids the way most people my age have. I don't have teenagers to get me involved in the community. I feel like I know almost no one, although of course that is not true. But how on earth could I possibly know two.....????
In my usual fashion I considered skipping the memorial services. I sat at my desk. I prayed. What else could I do? I checked the news, I cried for these young children who would never get to live as grown-ups, I emailed my friends to pray. Then one of my co-workers asked me if I was going to one of the memorial services. "Are you going?" I asked her. "yes" she said. "Then I'll go too." I was going for her. I never know what I can do in those situations when I am not close to the families. I don't see what good my presence would do or how they would even know I was there. But I would go with my friend.
After making the decision to go to one, I decided that I should also go to the other one. I left work and went alone. The place was packed. I was the only black woman in the audience. Well, if you count the bi-racial teen then there was two of us. She looked at me accusingly (as teenagers will do), as if to say "you didn't know him, why are you here?" I just looked at her and smiled slightly, letting her know that she was right, I didn't "know" him the way she did, but sometimes adults just do things because they're the right things to do. I wasn't going to get caught up in race that day.
I wasn't going to think about myself at all. I could have easily sat there, a tall black woman with locked hair dressed professionally in a bright yellow bolero jacket and black slacks, amongst these plain Nebraskan folk, many of them farmers in their ordinary clothes, and I could have felt very much out of place. In fact for a few minutes I did. The people who normally hug me barely gave me a look. Some of them seemed to want to avoid me. "Why?" I wondered. "Is it because they don't want to show how familiar they are with me in front of all of these strangers?" No matter, I could forgive them and show them grace and mercy. Things will be back to normal later. I was not going to get caught up in my own thoughts and feelings of being an outsider, not now. This was not the time. The young man we were memorializing wouldn't have cared. That was his lesson, his example to me: to put my social anxiety aside and not let it get in the way of life.
He was the least self-concious kid I've ever seen. His total lack of self-conciousness reminded me of my brother when we were kids. This young boy scout was a constant reminder to me that life wasn't about appearances. He didn't seem to care that he wasn't "cool" or to even realize it. He was just a good, sweet, little kid going through that awkward teenage phase who loved God and who lived life with more enthusiasm than anyone I've ever seen. I have been self-conscious all of my life. But for Sam I would do this, sit here and forget about myself and just be a human being sharing in the feelings of other human-beings. And an interesting thing happened: My clothes and my race melted away and all that was left was me.
You can say as one of my Catholic friends did that God had no message in what happened, that sometimes bad things just happen. "Some people say 'everything happens for a reason" she said, "but that's not true. God does not treat us like pawns in a chess game. He loves us more than that." These were her words, and I mostly agreed with them.
OK, not pawns. Not chess. Not a game. But God doesn't interfere? Are you kidding me?? Has she READ the Bible??? God does nothing BUT interfere. It's good because it's the only way we know he exists. I didn't say anything. Riding home from the memorial service wasn't the best time.
What I don't believe is that 96 people can be hit by a tornado in the middle of a wooded campground surrounded by trees and ONLY 4 of them be killed. Have you seen the pictures? That place was destroyed. THAT is the miracle. But then why those 4? I don't know. But read 13 year-old Sam Thomsen's sermon that he read at church just a few months ago. If it doesn't move you or touch your heart, you don't have one. Then let me know what you think.
Who am I that I should even know one, much less two, of the young boy scouts who were killed in the tornado last week? I have been in Omaha for not quite two years. I have no kids the way most people my age have. I don't have teenagers to get me involved in the community. I feel like I know almost no one, although of course that is not true. But how on earth could I possibly know two.....????
In my usual fashion I considered skipping the memorial services. I sat at my desk. I prayed. What else could I do? I checked the news, I cried for these young children who would never get to live as grown-ups, I emailed my friends to pray. Then one of my co-workers asked me if I was going to one of the memorial services. "Are you going?" I asked her. "yes" she said. "Then I'll go too." I was going for her. I never know what I can do in those situations when I am not close to the families. I don't see what good my presence would do or how they would even know I was there. But I would go with my friend.
After making the decision to go to one, I decided that I should also go to the other one. I left work and went alone. The place was packed. I was the only black woman in the audience. Well, if you count the bi-racial teen then there was two of us. She looked at me accusingly (as teenagers will do), as if to say "you didn't know him, why are you here?" I just looked at her and smiled slightly, letting her know that she was right, I didn't "know" him the way she did, but sometimes adults just do things because they're the right things to do. I wasn't going to get caught up in race that day.
I wasn't going to think about myself at all. I could have easily sat there, a tall black woman with locked hair dressed professionally in a bright yellow bolero jacket and black slacks, amongst these plain Nebraskan folk, many of them farmers in their ordinary clothes, and I could have felt very much out of place. In fact for a few minutes I did. The people who normally hug me barely gave me a look. Some of them seemed to want to avoid me. "Why?" I wondered. "Is it because they don't want to show how familiar they are with me in front of all of these strangers?" No matter, I could forgive them and show them grace and mercy. Things will be back to normal later. I was not going to get caught up in my own thoughts and feelings of being an outsider, not now. This was not the time. The young man we were memorializing wouldn't have cared. That was his lesson, his example to me: to put my social anxiety aside and not let it get in the way of life.
He was the least self-concious kid I've ever seen. His total lack of self-conciousness reminded me of my brother when we were kids. This young boy scout was a constant reminder to me that life wasn't about appearances. He didn't seem to care that he wasn't "cool" or to even realize it. He was just a good, sweet, little kid going through that awkward teenage phase who loved God and who lived life with more enthusiasm than anyone I've ever seen. I have been self-conscious all of my life. But for Sam I would do this, sit here and forget about myself and just be a human being sharing in the feelings of other human-beings. And an interesting thing happened: My clothes and my race melted away and all that was left was me.
You can say as one of my Catholic friends did that God had no message in what happened, that sometimes bad things just happen. "Some people say 'everything happens for a reason" she said, "but that's not true. God does not treat us like pawns in a chess game. He loves us more than that." These were her words, and I mostly agreed with them.
OK, not pawns. Not chess. Not a game. But God doesn't interfere? Are you kidding me?? Has she READ the Bible??? God does nothing BUT interfere. It's good because it's the only way we know he exists. I didn't say anything. Riding home from the memorial service wasn't the best time.
What I don't believe is that 96 people can be hit by a tornado in the middle of a wooded campground surrounded by trees and ONLY 4 of them be killed. Have you seen the pictures? That place was destroyed. THAT is the miracle. But then why those 4? I don't know. But read 13 year-old Sam Thomsen's sermon that he read at church just a few months ago. If it doesn't move you or touch your heart, you don't have one. Then let me know what you think.
Monday, June 9, 2008
Barrack Obama's VP: General Wesley Clark
Ok, Mr. Obama, I know you didn't ask me but just in case you're paying attention I'm going to offer my opinion on who you should choose as a running mate...
General Wesley Clark.
The only way he could be any more perfect as a running mate is if he were a woman.
Ok, I know this is where I'm supposed to provide the compelling arguments in his favor, showing that I made this judgement based on information rather than some emotional or traditional reasons. I started not to do this. I started to leave this article just as it was, ending with the "woman" comment above. But I can do better than that.
I've decided to leave the emotional/traditional/"I think he'll be a good president because his Daddy was a good president and that's good enough for me" type decision-making to the people who follow that pattern of behavior. (I swear to God an otherwise intelligent female chemical engineer once said that to me about Bush). Plus I shouldn't just assume you know the reasons. I am an intuitive and intuitives tend to expect people to fill in the blanks. It's a compliment to you really. But the world is ruled by S's - sensing people who need information and detail, and as much as I give out information as an intuitive, I receive it as a sensor, meaning I like detail. So here are the reasons, but before we go into detail about "why Wesley" I think it's best to start with a discussion of "why not Hillary?" Here's why not:
Reason number one: For Mr. Obama, winning over Hillary's supporters may mean losing his own. There are a lot, and I mean a LOT, of people who hate Hillary. If Mr. Obama were to add her to his ticket, he would undoubtedly lose some of the swing votes he had; those nice, intelligent, thinking Republicans and independents who want to vote for change. Sure, he would gain her 18 million supporters, but there's no telling how many of his own suppporters he would lose in the process. That's just not good math. You NEVER alienate your own base just to get more votes. That type of action would make him look weak and, well, too political.
Reason number two: She still wants to be President. She didn't stretch out her own campaign that long just to be VICE president and I don't think she would be happy to accept the traditional role, that is, being there just in case something happens to the President and in the meantime providing the occasional swing vote in the Senate. John Adams called it the most useless job ever invented by man and Hillary is anything but useless.
Which leads us to...
Reason number three: We would have two Presidents. I don't think she could stop herself from pushing her own agendas even when they contrast starkly with his. That would be a serious distraction from taking care of the business of getting the country back on course.
And here are the reasons for choosing Wesley Clark as his running mate:
1. Obviously his military background
2. He didn't just serve in the Army, he achieved the rank of General. They don't just hand those out for good attendance.
3. He served in Kosovo so he has experience dealing with a war in the Middle East. Hmmm, wonder why we'd need THAT qualification in a leader?
4. He was valedictorian of his class at West Point. I have nothing against C-students. I was one myself in college. Yes it's great that we live in a country where a C-student can be elected president, but hasn't that theory failed?
5. He's a relatively young 61 years old.
6. It's hard to overlook how handsome he is. That's gotta bring Hollywood running.
7. He is both multi-ethnic and multi-religious. He's White, Jewish, Methodist, Baptist and Catholic. Plus he's a southerner who was raised in Arkansas. You can read about how this is possible in his bio, but to my mind that's got to draw in a lot of different votes that Barrack Obama may not have gotten otherwise. Hey, if you look far back enough, he's probably even black.
8. He was aligned with Hillary in the primary. And since he's run for President before it's probably safe to say that she was considering him as her running mate. That means representing her agendas without having to actually represent HER, thus perhaps skimming a few of her 18 million votes and leaving the die-hards still voting for John McCain out of spite, which honestly makes them the same as people who voted for Bush because of his father and isn't that where the irrational people belong?
9. Clark is going to continue to hold his own ideas while remaining loyal to the President.
10....I don't have a reason number 10 yet. I've decided to reserve that spot for if and when Clark is chosen and the media starts pouring out all the laundry, clean and dirty.
P.S. Has anyone noticed that no one is asking who McCain's running mate is going to be? It's almost as if no one cares.
General Wesley Clark.
The only way he could be any more perfect as a running mate is if he were a woman.
Ok, I know this is where I'm supposed to provide the compelling arguments in his favor, showing that I made this judgement based on information rather than some emotional or traditional reasons. I started not to do this. I started to leave this article just as it was, ending with the "woman" comment above. But I can do better than that.
I've decided to leave the emotional/traditional/"I think he'll be a good president because his Daddy was a good president and that's good enough for me" type decision-making to the people who follow that pattern of behavior. (I swear to God an otherwise intelligent female chemical engineer once said that to me about Bush). Plus I shouldn't just assume you know the reasons. I am an intuitive and intuitives tend to expect people to fill in the blanks. It's a compliment to you really. But the world is ruled by S's - sensing people who need information and detail, and as much as I give out information as an intuitive, I receive it as a sensor, meaning I like detail. So here are the reasons, but before we go into detail about "why Wesley" I think it's best to start with a discussion of "why not Hillary?" Here's why not:
Reason number one: For Mr. Obama, winning over Hillary's supporters may mean losing his own. There are a lot, and I mean a LOT, of people who hate Hillary. If Mr. Obama were to add her to his ticket, he would undoubtedly lose some of the swing votes he had; those nice, intelligent, thinking Republicans and independents who want to vote for change. Sure, he would gain her 18 million supporters, but there's no telling how many of his own suppporters he would lose in the process. That's just not good math. You NEVER alienate your own base just to get more votes. That type of action would make him look weak and, well, too political.
Reason number two: She still wants to be President. She didn't stretch out her own campaign that long just to be VICE president and I don't think she would be happy to accept the traditional role, that is, being there just in case something happens to the President and in the meantime providing the occasional swing vote in the Senate. John Adams called it the most useless job ever invented by man and Hillary is anything but useless.
Which leads us to...
Reason number three: We would have two Presidents. I don't think she could stop herself from pushing her own agendas even when they contrast starkly with his. That would be a serious distraction from taking care of the business of getting the country back on course.
And here are the reasons for choosing Wesley Clark as his running mate:
1. Obviously his military background
2. He didn't just serve in the Army, he achieved the rank of General. They don't just hand those out for good attendance.
3. He served in Kosovo so he has experience dealing with a war in the Middle East. Hmmm, wonder why we'd need THAT qualification in a leader?
4. He was valedictorian of his class at West Point. I have nothing against C-students. I was one myself in college. Yes it's great that we live in a country where a C-student can be elected president, but hasn't that theory failed?
5. He's a relatively young 61 years old.
6. It's hard to overlook how handsome he is. That's gotta bring Hollywood running.
7. He is both multi-ethnic and multi-religious. He's White, Jewish, Methodist, Baptist and Catholic. Plus he's a southerner who was raised in Arkansas. You can read about how this is possible in his bio, but to my mind that's got to draw in a lot of different votes that Barrack Obama may not have gotten otherwise. Hey, if you look far back enough, he's probably even black.
8. He was aligned with Hillary in the primary. And since he's run for President before it's probably safe to say that she was considering him as her running mate. That means representing her agendas without having to actually represent HER, thus perhaps skimming a few of her 18 million votes and leaving the die-hards still voting for John McCain out of spite, which honestly makes them the same as people who voted for Bush because of his father and isn't that where the irrational people belong?
9. Clark is going to continue to hold his own ideas while remaining loyal to the President.
10....I don't have a reason number 10 yet. I've decided to reserve that spot for if and when Clark is chosen and the media starts pouring out all the laundry, clean and dirty.
P.S. Has anyone noticed that no one is asking who McCain's running mate is going to be? It's almost as if no one cares.
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Tornado
As I lay in my bed asleep Saturday night, my dreams were injected with a faint high pitched whining sound. The sound kept getting louder. "I think that means you need to wake up" a voice in my head said, as in my sleep I tried to figure out where the sound was coming from.
I awoke to realize it was the weather alert sirens going off. "Oh great" I thought. "I wonder how long that's going to go on?" I was not yet awake enough to realize that the sirens were not a test, but were alerting us to a real weather threat which meant I needed to take action. Groggily my body started to move. For some reason I had slept in my yoga pants and a t-shirt, not my usual sleepwear, so I was basically "dressed". Throwing back the covers I could hear the wind and trees blowing outside, the rain hiting the roof and sides of my condo with more force than normal. I think it was those sounds that finally jolted me into reality.
I remembered my friend A's words from the other day, "You're in the interior of the building surrounded by other homes, AND you have a basement. You're SAFE." His words played like a recording in my head and reassured me. As I headed for the basement stairs I spotted a pair of sketchers at the back door, the ones I normally wear to play golf. I grabbed them to put on and ran down into the basement. For some reason I went straight to the window and looked out, trying to see the exact moment the tornado would touch down. I could see my neighbor's basement lights were also on, letting me know that they were taking this as seriously as I was.
I turned away from the window and looked around the room, my mind finally grasping the entire situation and starting to think about what I needed to do. I had no chairs down there, and no folding chairs to bring down. A treadmill and an eliptical machine were placed in front of the window. I could actually lie on the treadmill, but I would have to move it away from the window. Other than that, the basement only held boxes of christmas decorations, a lamp with a fisherman's basket for the base and fish shadows on the shade, and a single bottle of red wine on a little wine rack, the beginning of my wine collection. "No, look at EVERYTHING" my mind said. My goodness my mind is so much smarter than "I" am. So I re-surveyed the room again and this time I acknowledged the roll of remnant carpet against one wall. Hmmm...
I grabbed the carpet roll and dragged it into the small closet-like space between the stairs and the innermost wall. I unrolled it and the space was instantly more inviting and comfortable: a shelter. I moved the little box containing a camp stove out of the way, hoping. My hopes were rewarded, there was an outlet back there. I brought over the plastic tub of Christmas ornaments and the fisherman's lamp, making a nightstand of them and plugged the lamp in, then ran back upstairs and grabbed my pillow and the duvet off the bed. I had my paperback copy of Jane Austen's Pride & Prejdice and a bottle of water. It was a cozy little shelter and I was ready to settle in.
Hmmm, not quite.
I needed my cell phone. Another trip upstairs. This time I also grabbed my purse and the six-pack of water I'd bought at the store that day. Back downstairs. I lay there and read a while, but the floor was too hard. I'd never get any sleep. I remembered a foam mattress I had in one of the extra bedrooms on the 2nd floor. But I didn't want to go back up there and get it. I thought of my male friends and how, if one of them were here, they would do whatever it took to make me comfortable and would go get it for me. "But I have no man" I thought. "Then you must do for yourself whatever you would want a man to do for you" said the survival instinct that had been guiding me all night. Up I went.
As I was getting the foam mattress, dumping the clothes that were stacked on it to the floor, I spotted my sleeping bag sticking out of a box. I thought it was long lost back in Chattanooga, Tennessee, but there it was right when I needed it. I grabbed it too. On the way back I grabbed a bag of Cheetos and a bag of Pepperidge Farm oatmeal raisin cookies. Back down stairs and spread out first the foam mattress then the sleeping bag. I lay down on it and it was more comfortable than my bed upstairs. "Now you have everything you need", I thought. I looked at the clock on my blackberry. I knew I'd been pressing my luck. "There are to be no more trips upstairs" said my survival instinct, quite firmly. The clock read 2:29 am.
I lay there and read for a while. I have to admit I liked the adventurous feeling of it. I was safe and comfortable and having Jane Austen to read made me feel even more secure. Just before I drifted off to sleep, I reached up and turned off the fish lamp and turned on the little flashlight I'd had in my purse, using it as a nightlight and hoping it would keep the spiders away. I slept well under the circumstances. I dreamed that the exterior wall of my basement was blown away to ground level and my neighbor's entire building was gone. When I awoke everything was in tact. I went about my normal routine and later in the morning I checked the news online to see if any of Omaha had been hit. The first tornado had touched down at exactly 2:30am.
I awoke to realize it was the weather alert sirens going off. "Oh great" I thought. "I wonder how long that's going to go on?" I was not yet awake enough to realize that the sirens were not a test, but were alerting us to a real weather threat which meant I needed to take action. Groggily my body started to move. For some reason I had slept in my yoga pants and a t-shirt, not my usual sleepwear, so I was basically "dressed". Throwing back the covers I could hear the wind and trees blowing outside, the rain hiting the roof and sides of my condo with more force than normal. I think it was those sounds that finally jolted me into reality.
I remembered my friend A's words from the other day, "You're in the interior of the building surrounded by other homes, AND you have a basement. You're SAFE." His words played like a recording in my head and reassured me. As I headed for the basement stairs I spotted a pair of sketchers at the back door, the ones I normally wear to play golf. I grabbed them to put on and ran down into the basement. For some reason I went straight to the window and looked out, trying to see the exact moment the tornado would touch down. I could see my neighbor's basement lights were also on, letting me know that they were taking this as seriously as I was.
I turned away from the window and looked around the room, my mind finally grasping the entire situation and starting to think about what I needed to do. I had no chairs down there, and no folding chairs to bring down. A treadmill and an eliptical machine were placed in front of the window. I could actually lie on the treadmill, but I would have to move it away from the window. Other than that, the basement only held boxes of christmas decorations, a lamp with a fisherman's basket for the base and fish shadows on the shade, and a single bottle of red wine on a little wine rack, the beginning of my wine collection. "No, look at EVERYTHING" my mind said. My goodness my mind is so much smarter than "I" am. So I re-surveyed the room again and this time I acknowledged the roll of remnant carpet against one wall. Hmmm...
I grabbed the carpet roll and dragged it into the small closet-like space between the stairs and the innermost wall. I unrolled it and the space was instantly more inviting and comfortable: a shelter. I moved the little box containing a camp stove out of the way, hoping. My hopes were rewarded, there was an outlet back there. I brought over the plastic tub of Christmas ornaments and the fisherman's lamp, making a nightstand of them and plugged the lamp in, then ran back upstairs and grabbed my pillow and the duvet off the bed. I had my paperback copy of Jane Austen's Pride & Prejdice and a bottle of water. It was a cozy little shelter and I was ready to settle in.
Hmmm, not quite.
I needed my cell phone. Another trip upstairs. This time I also grabbed my purse and the six-pack of water I'd bought at the store that day. Back downstairs. I lay there and read a while, but the floor was too hard. I'd never get any sleep. I remembered a foam mattress I had in one of the extra bedrooms on the 2nd floor. But I didn't want to go back up there and get it. I thought of my male friends and how, if one of them were here, they would do whatever it took to make me comfortable and would go get it for me. "But I have no man" I thought. "Then you must do for yourself whatever you would want a man to do for you" said the survival instinct that had been guiding me all night. Up I went.
As I was getting the foam mattress, dumping the clothes that were stacked on it to the floor, I spotted my sleeping bag sticking out of a box. I thought it was long lost back in Chattanooga, Tennessee, but there it was right when I needed it. I grabbed it too. On the way back I grabbed a bag of Cheetos and a bag of Pepperidge Farm oatmeal raisin cookies. Back down stairs and spread out first the foam mattress then the sleeping bag. I lay down on it and it was more comfortable than my bed upstairs. "Now you have everything you need", I thought. I looked at the clock on my blackberry. I knew I'd been pressing my luck. "There are to be no more trips upstairs" said my survival instinct, quite firmly. The clock read 2:29 am.
I lay there and read for a while. I have to admit I liked the adventurous feeling of it. I was safe and comfortable and having Jane Austen to read made me feel even more secure. Just before I drifted off to sleep, I reached up and turned off the fish lamp and turned on the little flashlight I'd had in my purse, using it as a nightlight and hoping it would keep the spiders away. I slept well under the circumstances. I dreamed that the exterior wall of my basement was blown away to ground level and my neighbor's entire building was gone. When I awoke everything was in tact. I went about my normal routine and later in the morning I checked the news online to see if any of Omaha had been hit. The first tornado had touched down at exactly 2:30am.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
The Hillary Experience
Sooner or later, we as women all have to go through this. No matter how beautiful we are, or how smart, or funny or athletic or 'pert near perfect we are...sooner or later we're going to have to let go of something that we knew for sure was ours.
It's official, Barrack Obama is the Democratic nominee for president, but Hillary Clinton still won't end her campaign. The papers today are full of details and analysis about how Clinton, a virtual shoe-in, lost the nomination anyway. And everyone has accepted it except Hillary.
I have to tell you that I can relate to this. I know what it is to be the perfect candidate, to have everyone supporting me, and to be the assumed heir only to lose anyway. Not in an election, but in love and romance. In fact, I am learning at almost the exact same rate she is. But unlike her I have a great example to watch. I have a bird's eye view of the fact that despite her perfection, Barrack Obama is in fact the perfect candidate right now. There's no disputing it. I like to think that the Universe always works this way. Yes, I may have been right, but I'm not right now. So my job changes from proving how perfect I am, to exiting the stage with grace and dignity and supporting the true winner.
Hillary, my dear, I am sorry you are having to learn this lesson so late in life. The fact that you can live to be 50-some-odd years old and not have the sense to know how and when to bow out gracefully makes me feel blessed that I am learning it right now. The universe is a wonderful instructor. In what I have come to call "the Hillary experience" it is showing me just how carried away one can get with the concept that determination, hard work, and desire will get you there.
The reason Hillary lost the nomination can be debated by the experts, but I can tell you exactly why, in my humble opinion, she is not the right candidate right now. It's because she's myopic. The fact that she's so doggedly determined to stay on a course when it has so obviously failed is evidence that she is disturbingly similar to her predecessor, president Bush. I'm afraid that under her we would have had 4 more years of going full speed ahead in the wrong direction, even if it is in the opposite direction.
What has touched me most about all of this? How gently and patiently and respectfully the rest of the Democratic party has handled her, refusing to push her out or to criticize her. Even if she hasn't behaved with dignity, they have certainly treated her with some. It encourages me that there is still decency and a sense of respect for her intelligence and her abilities, for her position as a former first lady, and for the historical significance of what she was trying to accomplish and it reminds me of a time when honor and respect still existed in government.
It's official, Barrack Obama is the Democratic nominee for president, but Hillary Clinton still won't end her campaign. The papers today are full of details and analysis about how Clinton, a virtual shoe-in, lost the nomination anyway. And everyone has accepted it except Hillary.
I have to tell you that I can relate to this. I know what it is to be the perfect candidate, to have everyone supporting me, and to be the assumed heir only to lose anyway. Not in an election, but in love and romance. In fact, I am learning at almost the exact same rate she is. But unlike her I have a great example to watch. I have a bird's eye view of the fact that despite her perfection, Barrack Obama is in fact the perfect candidate right now. There's no disputing it. I like to think that the Universe always works this way. Yes, I may have been right, but I'm not right now. So my job changes from proving how perfect I am, to exiting the stage with grace and dignity and supporting the true winner.
Hillary, my dear, I am sorry you are having to learn this lesson so late in life. The fact that you can live to be 50-some-odd years old and not have the sense to know how and when to bow out gracefully makes me feel blessed that I am learning it right now. The universe is a wonderful instructor. In what I have come to call "the Hillary experience" it is showing me just how carried away one can get with the concept that determination, hard work, and desire will get you there.
The reason Hillary lost the nomination can be debated by the experts, but I can tell you exactly why, in my humble opinion, she is not the right candidate right now. It's because she's myopic. The fact that she's so doggedly determined to stay on a course when it has so obviously failed is evidence that she is disturbingly similar to her predecessor, president Bush. I'm afraid that under her we would have had 4 more years of going full speed ahead in the wrong direction, even if it is in the opposite direction.
What has touched me most about all of this? How gently and patiently and respectfully the rest of the Democratic party has handled her, refusing to push her out or to criticize her. Even if she hasn't behaved with dignity, they have certainly treated her with some. It encourages me that there is still decency and a sense of respect for her intelligence and her abilities, for her position as a former first lady, and for the historical significance of what she was trying to accomplish and it reminds me of a time when honor and respect still existed in government.
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