HRC

At the caucus the other night, a couple of other "women of a certain age" who had also voted with me in the minority for Hillary Rodham Clinton came up to me afterwards to thank me for "speaking up and for my passion" about supporting HRC as our next president. We spoke together about how hard it is for us to understand the degree of hatred and anger some people seem to have for her. Although I consider myself to be quite a good communicator, I find it hard to vocalize the certainty with which I believe she is the best person for the job at this time.

Fortunately, Robin Morgan has written an outstanding essay, "Goodby to All That #2," that says it all, pretty much perfectly, including several examples of the "toxic viciousness" and double standard that bother me most. She also points out that the values HRC has go way back to her early days and provides several great quotes that show this. I'm grateful to my brother-in-law Bill for forwarding the link to me.

In the end, Robin is right. I am for Hillary Clinton not because she is a woman, but because I am, and because she is the best choice.

The Caucus-Race

As I attended the first caucus in my life Tuesday night, I was amused to remember this quote from Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland. The scene
occurs just after a frustrated, giant Alice’s excessive tears have caused everyone to have to swim to dry land:

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" 'What I was going to say,’ said the Dodo in an offended tone, ‘was, that the best thing to get us dry would be a Caucus-race.’

‘What is a Caucus-race?’ said Alice; not that she wanted much to know, but the Dodo had paused as if it thought that somebody ought to speak, and
no one else seemed inclined to say anything.

‘Why,’ said the Dodo, ‘the best way to explain it is to do it.’ (And, as you might like to try the thing yourself, some winter day, I will tell you how the Dodo managed it.)

First it marked out a race-course, in a sort of circle, (‘the exact shape doesn’t matter,’ it said,) and then all the party were placed along the course, here and there. There was no ‘One, two, three, and away,’ but they began running when they liked, and left off when they liked, so that it was not easy to know when the race was over. However, when they had been running half an hour or so, and were quite dry again, the Dodo suddenly called out ‘The race is over!’ and they all crowded round it, panting, and asking, ‘But who has won?’

This question the Dodo could not answer without a great deal of thought, and it sat for a long time with one finger pressed upon its forehead (the position in which you usually see Shakespeare, in the pictures of him), while the rest waited in silence. At last the Dodo said, ‘everybody has won, and all must have prizes.’ "

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It was standing room only in the Creekside Elementary gym. Dire warnings about exceeding capacity were uttered and all those who weren't registered to vote were asked to leave, with no noticeable impact. Babies cried, young people gave up their seats to the elderly. Familiar-looking neighbors (although I am name-challenged), young and old, stood shoulder to shoulder, all clutching their white or blue registration cards for the Colorado Democratic caucus.

The cold winter’s night with snow on the ground and ice on the sidewalks did not deter these voters, who were finally motivated to have a say in a year when the caucus was held early enough to make a difference.

In my precinct, which I am told has a total of perhaps 330 registered Democratic voters, an unprecedented 129 people had Shown Up. The amazed old hands who have been showing up for years said that prior to this they had seen turnouts ranging from 8-30. A few straw polls and subsequent binding votes and a few impassioned statements from various participants later, we had 99 for Obama and 29 for Clinton, resulting in 5 county delegates for Obama, and 1 for Clinton.

I voted for Hillary, and was interested to see how hard it was for me to be in the minority. I even screwed up the courage to say a few words to try to sway my neighbors, with no observed affect other than causing my heart to beat very fast for a few minutes. It was a fascinating, messy, but ultimately productive process managed totally by dedicated volunteers who got the job done by 8:45 pm. Barack carried the State of Colorado, but I have faith in Hillary and we are in early days still. See future blogs for more on this.

Here I Go A Caucusing

Super Tuesday for primaries and caucuses is coming up this week on February 5. Colorado is one of the twenty-four states participating, early enough to make a difference in deciding who will be the Republican and Democratic candidates this fall.

I have been quite fascinated recently with the campaigns and have watched several of the debates. I’ve decided to attend my precinct’s caucus Tuesday night although I’ve never been to one and am having to research what the heck a caucus is and how it works. At first I felt I was incredibly ignorant and out of the loop not to have a better understanding of this process. After all, I’ve lived in Colorado for the last 30 years. But there were always primaries in Indiana and also in Colorado it turns out until a switch in 2003 to caucuses for presidential elections, apparently to save the $2 million each primary costs.

Since I’ve voted in primaries in the past, I am registered as a Democrat, but in order to participate in Tuesday’s caucus I had to decide who I favor to be the Democratic candidate. Although I have great admiration for Barack Obama and the fresh excitement and passion he has brought to the campaign especially for the youth of our country, I have decided that Hillary Clinton is the best choice to be our next president.

My choice is not based on the fact the she is a woman and would be our first female president, although it will be thrilling to see that happen in my lifetime. Instead, I believe she is the best candidate for the job. My choice is based on her 35 years of experience in public service, including the past 7 years as a New York Senator and distinguished member of the Senate Armed Services Committee, as well as her successful effort to pass the Children’s Health Insurance Program. She learned a great deal from her previous effort as First Lady to bring about reform in health care and will apply this knowledge when she is president. She is committed to ending the war as soon as practical but fully understands the complications including the danger not only to our troops but to the 100,000 civilians and Iraqi citizens who have helped us during the Iraqi War.

Barack Obama has great promise. But he has been a Senator for only three years. Although he believes he will bring a fresh approach to Washington and the White House, finding ways to work with Congress to get things done is easier with past experience to draw on, and Hillary has the experience to hit the ground running. She already knows the challenges she’ll be facing and has clear and detailed plans for how to address these challenges. It will be a great historic moment when she is sworn into office and I really want to see it happen. I logged onto her website today and made a donation; I also signed up to make phone calls on her behalf and have already done a few today, something I have never before done in my life. It’s not easy making these “cold calls” but I hope my small part makes a difference.

Super Tuesday should be a very interesting day.

Do Not Go Gentle...

E-mail over the weekend reveals that several family members are struggling with how best to support their parents through the last years of their lives. Mothers and fathers in their 70s and 80s are confused and angry, sometimes fighting tooth and nail for what they view to be that last ounce of dignity or choice in their lives.

My husband and I are reminded of one of the most famous poems ever written, by Dylan Thomas: “Do not go gentle into that good night.” He wrote the poem for his dying father as is clear from the last stanza.

The poem begins:

“Do not go gentle into that goodnight,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”

From my own experience losing my parents a few years ago it is hard to know which is more difficult: when they are raging against the loss of all they knew of life – or when you can see in their eyes that they are starting to fade away. Dylan Thomas’s wishes come clear at the end of the poem:

“And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”

We all hope for a quiet end with dignity and without suffering, in peace and knowing we did the best we could. But most of that is luck, and meanwhile we do the best we can to help those we love at the end of their journey.

Hand-waving Ensues

So, over the holiday break my company, in a green frenzy, installed motion detector light switches in all of our offices. Now when I enter my office I don’t even have to flip on the switch; the motion detector smartly senses my entry and turns on the lights for me. Of course, it turns on all the lights when it was my habit before to have only some of them on. And as I am working away diligently at my computer late into the evening, motionless in my intense concentration, the lights helpfully blink out, since the sensor thinks I have left for the day.

When I am working at our California site in a smaller office with the same setup, I deal with this sudden and sometimes startling darkness easily by raising my hands over my head and frantically waving them in the air (much as you are instructed to do if you suddenly encounter a bear in the woods and need to make yourself seem larger), until the sensor sees that I am indeed still in the office and turns the lights back on. However, in my regular office here, my seat is too far away from the sensor and regardless of my hand-waving energy, I can’t get the lights back on unless I get up, walk toward the light switch, and either turn it on manually or move vigorously enough that it notices me and turns itself back on.

Of course, my chiropractor would be thrilled with this office improvement; it guarantees that in the evening after a long day, I will get up periodically and stretch briefly. Just goes to show there is always a silver lining in every cloud.

I am thinking about going over to Target and buying some of those toy guns that shoot rubber bands to hand out generously to all my co-workers – then we can shoot at the light switches to turn them back on without getting out of our seats.

Attitude

We shot a lot of pool over the holiday break. Since I am about to take on a major new challenge at work, I found the following quote to be particular helpful. Attitude does make a huge difference.

From "Byrne's New Standard Book of Pool and Billiards,” p. 20:

“A surprisingly large part of pool skill is a matter of attitude and concentration. When the pressure is on, the player with the best control of his nerves and emotions has a big advantage.

Try to play with confidence, even if you have little reason for having any. The sooner you act like a good player, the sooner you’ll become one. I don’t mean you should swagger, pose, brag, and sneer like some of the insufferable clowns you see at tournaments, but I do mean you should cultivate an air of command. When it’s your turn to shoot, don’t come to the table with your face a mask of fear and indecision; step right up as if everything is under control. Handle the chalk and cue with the illusion of easy familiarity. Survey the mess on the table as if a computer is whirring in your head producing printouts of favorable odds…

Acting like a good player even though you are miscast in the role is not so much for the purpose of frightening your opponent as it is for building up a feeling of confidence within yourself. In many areas of life and pool, a confident mental attitude is almost as important for success as luck…once you decide to try a certain shot it pays to do so with forthrightness and even ebullience. You’ve got to believe that you can make the shot, that you will make it. At the moment of truth there is no room for pessimism. Once you allow yourself to start worrying about how hard the shot is, how poor your chances are of making it, how bad you are going to look if you miss, how embarrassing it will be to lose the game…well, then that exquisite machine you’ve been fine-tuning is almost sure to belch, backfire, and run off the tracks.

Phrased as an apothegm: Mental control is as important as cueball control.”

Deer Valley Road After Christmas

On the day after Christmas the sun is brilliant on the new snow and the sky is Colorado blue. I dress in numerous layers against the 10-degree chill and pocket my camera. The snow is crisp under my boots and makes that crick-crick sound as I head uphill, across Broadway, up Dartmouth to Deer Valley Road. On the way up an elderly lady ventures carefully down her drive and onto the newly shoveled sidewalk in front of her house, walking stick in hand. We say hello and agree that it is a fine morning if you don’t have to shovel. I tell her of my plan to take some pictures of the snow-covered foothills further up. She is impressed that I have already walked this far up the steep hill from the other side of Broadway. Her son is coming to get her in awhile and they plan to drive around taking pictures.

As she ventures further along the sidewalk I say, “Be careful on the snow.”

She says, “That’s what this is for,” and smiles as she gestures with the walking stick. “Have a good day, my dear.”

And with that benediction from a wise woman, I feel blessed. I wish I could sit down with her over a cup of tea and have a long conversation and learn all she has to tell me. One day will a young woman somewhere wish that about me? I continue to the top, and the foothills are beautiful, covered in thick white. The camera can never capture the sparkle of sunlight on snow but I try anyway.

Joggers and dogwalkers join me in admiring the beauty of the day. I have discarded my sunglasses because I want to soak up every bit of sunlight possible. I walk back down the hill to Caffe Sole and order a skinny latte, double shot, in a real glass. I like Caffe Sole because it is not a chain, so it has little unique touches like a self-serve “express coffee” station with a hand-lettered sign posting prices for various sizes and $1.25 if you have your own cup, with a jar where you leave your money on the honor system. Two guys sit next to me over coffee discussing an on-line business venture. Two women my age at a nearby table are having a heartfelt conversation and seem to be enjoying each other’s company. A very beautiful young woman with long blonde hair wearing a gray knit cap with a bill talks to a besotted young man who wears his hair burr short with several tiny braids sprouting from the back of his head.

I feel very present, and suddenly am sure that any fear or sadness I feel is purely my own doing. If I can just stay awake and remember that one idea, I will be so much happier in 2008. So much more will seem possible. I am getting some perspective with my time off, apparently. Reading “The Four Agreements” again is helping – it still makes a lot of sense, even though the style seems kind of rough around the edges.