"The first principle of full feminism is the simple equality of men and women. And it is an erroneous principle. For here nature steps in and forbids its achievement." -- CORREA MOYLAN WALSH, Feminism
I've had it pretty easy, I must say. I have grown up in an era where I can vote, I was able to study science, I live in a country where I can dress as I wish, write about whatever I want, and when it comes to becoming whatever I want to be, I face no limits except those brought about by circumstances. Women can run for the highest office in the country, and if you look at recent history it may appear as though the office of Secretary of State is reserved for us. I have to constantly remind myself not to take any of this for granted.
We have feminism and the women rights movement to thank for this. But feminism is different things to different people. The word is plagued with a myriad of permutations, some positive, some not. Just as a couple of examples, you have the detritus of society represented by voices such as Rush Limbaugh's, uttering such nonsensical verbiage as"Feminism was established to allow unattractive women easier access to the mainstream"and that pillar of social de-evolution, Pat Robertson, when he stated that "Feminism is a socialist, anti-family, political movement that encourages women to leave their husbands, kill their children, practice witchcraft, destroy capitalism and become lesbians." Alas, we do still have freedom of thought and of speech in this country. But what a gift that society was able to grow and move forward despite ill minds like these.
Who would have guessed as we first watched "Jerry Maguire" back in 1996 that two lines from this scene would gain the immortality that they did. "You had me at hello" has become as notorious as lines such as "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn" or "Toto, I have a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore". And then there's "You... complete me."
What does it mean, "You complete me?" Should relationships be about being 'completed' by someone else? Does this mean we're not whole until we find that special someone? Should that be what we seek in a partner, 'completeness'?
In one sense, no. But in another sense, definitely.
No, you shouldn't need someone to make you who you are. You shouldn't depend on another person in order for you to be your own. You shouldn't need another human being to act as a crutch of sorts, without which you can't ambulate through life. Your own sense of self should come from within, from having found yourself and rejoicing in what you have discovered, and staying true to that. You should grow and develop as an individual without the need for anyone else.
The thing is, I don't see "You complete me" as an expression of need. It is not an affirmation of the type of weakness that renders us incapable of making it through life. It is not a declaration of incompleteness of self. It is not acceptance of being unfulfilled in life. To me, the phrase invokes something much deeper than that.
We all go through life trying to discover what our strengths are so that we can capitalize on them. Early on we need to find out what we're good at so that we can narrow down a career path. We carve out our lives around that. We make a point to exploit our strengths. And if we're really lucky we discover that these are not only strengths but passions that fuel our soul. For some people career equates with life. They don't have a career to make a living; they live for their careers. Such passion is truly commendable, even enviable. (But perhaps it also begs the reminder that no man ever said on his deathbed "I wish I had spent more time at the office".)
Together with our strengths invariably come weaknesses. I'll be hard-pressed to find someone who is perfect. We are all flawed. Be it little things, like the proverbial toothpaste tube left uncovered or drinking straight out of the milk carton, or deeper flaws, like spending too much money on trivial things driving your bank account into the red every month, or not being able to say "I've had enough" after X number of beers, or being one who cares not about what your words do to others.... Defects, issues, flaws. We all have them.
We should be so lucky to find someone in life that loves us so unconditionally, so genuinely, so purely, that not only do they tolerate these imperfections - a tolerance grown out of their love for us and the realization that they, too, are less than perfect - but most importantly, they aid in complementing them. Someone that helps us become tempered before we lose our temper, to calmly help us see why we're over-analyzing a situation to death when that isn't necessarily in our best interest, who has no issue helping to manage the finances because quite frankly, we stink at it, the person with the level head at a time when we may be too emotionally charged to exercise clear judgment. And someone whose love for us is such that they realize that, in the grand scheme of things, it doesn't really hurt for the toothpaste tube to remain uncapped, that you can buy an extra carton of milk, that you can deal with minutiae because, truly, there are much more important things in life to worry about. They truly accept us just the way we are; they want to. Love's funny like that.
The black to my white, the hot to my cold, the ying to my yang. THAT is "You complete me" to me.
When completing a jigsaw puzzle, you focus on one piece and look and look in the pile for that one other piece that fits perfectly next to it. That one piece that will conform exactly to the contours of the one you already have down. You don't have to cut off anything about either piece to make them fit. They just go together perfectly, without adjustments, effortlessly.
In being complemented you don't change; nobody should make you do that. When you find that right person, they accept you just the way you are - love works that way. They should fall in love with the you that YOU love. But in finding that special someone, and in being that perfect complement for you, they compensate for those things on which you're weak; they have what you lack. You don't have to change to have those things. They do. And they don't have to change to have what you bring; you already have it. This compensation comes naturally, from the fact that they fit so well with you. If it feels like a chore, it may be that you're forcing the issue. If it feels like a task, maybe it's because it is. If it feels like you're having to work so hard at it, maybe it's because you're trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. When it's a perfect fit, it should all fall into place naturally. Like the very beautiful song by the very talented k.d. lang, love is "Simple".
Does that mean you need to have them in your life? Maybe, maybe not. That depends on whether or not you think you need love in your life, or whether or not you feel you're perfectly fine going through life alone. We all go through life taking our virtues as well as our flaws everywhere we go. That wouldn't change. But if you find this special someone, one day you realize that together you make such a bigger, stronger whole than you did while you were apart. That as much as you were two perfectly fine, full individuals with strengths and weaknesses when you were apart, having found each other makes weaknesses be complemented, flaws be compensated for, strengths elevated and supported, while still remaining true to who you are because you can, because no one is demanding that you change. You two become a new one and you're much stronger for it. And importantly, you love and are loved in the process.
Perhaps you've never had someone look you in the eyes like that famous scene in Jerry Maguire and tell you "You... complete me". Perhaps you lack the courage and confidence to look someone in the eyes and tell them that. Perhaps you haven't loved that deeply yet. Perhaps you use a lack of need for completeness as an excuse to nestle yourself in the haven that is solitude because there you may be alone but you're also sheltered from pain (albeit sadly, also devoid of love). Or perhaps you feel you have no need for any of this because you are so self-absorbed, living a life so centered on self. If the latter, I believe it's your loss. As an individual you may be whole, but you're not.... complete.
My number one, most revered author is Anna Quindlen. I absolutely adore her and everything she stands for. She writes with such conviction, and with an eloquence that I could only dream of ever having and know I could never, ever achieve. She's that wonderful. Her Pulitzer should be a surprise to no one.
Recently I watched an interview of her by Charlie Rose which was posted online. It was about the time in 2010 when her then latest novel, Every Last One, had just come out. The interview was about this new novel, her inspirations, motherhood and loss as topics that define her, and a variety of other subjects. But at one point she touched upon a well known novel, Moby Dick, and on revisiting the classics.
Charlie Rose made a reference about how some people say that maybe you shouldn't read War and Peace until you're at least in your thirties because you just won't get it. She agreed, saying how there's a beauty in not getting things and then getting them. She went on to mention how she first read Moby Dick back when she was in college and didn't care for it much, but how her oldest son insisted she revisit it that year because, as he told her: "Mom, you're just wrong about Moby Dick". And she conceded that he was right. But furthermore, she enjoyed the realization that she was now developed enough to appreciate something that she didn't some thirty-plus years ago - 'an incredible maturation process', she called it. And it occurred to me that this makes perfect sense.
When we're young - high school, junior high, perhaps - we're made to read some of the most impacting works by some of the most important literary minds of our time. Shakespeare, Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra, Hemingway, Austen, Poe, Fitzgerald, Whitman, Tolstoy, Salinger, Melville..... This list could quickly turn endless. We read them because the teacher said so. We read them because we had to write a book report, because we were going to be tested on them, because our grade depended on it. We read them because we had to. Introducing students to literature was part of the curriculum, part of our education. I mean, most 15-year olds probably don't read Shakespeare for kicks.... right?
By high school graduation I was impacted by four books in particular. In sixth grade I read Harper Lee's To Kill A Mockingbird. More than anything else about the book what I remember most is my reaction when I turned the last page. Because I connected to it so deeply, becoming so emotionally attached to characters and story alike, when I reached the very end and turned that last page only to find it blank, devoid of any more story, I burst into tears. Oh how I sobbed and sobbed. The tale finished, the characters were suddenly no longer alive. I was distraught. I will forever list To Kill A Mockingbird as my favorite book. What a beautiful story of sympathy and understanding in the face of bigotry and hatred. There I was, a little 11-yr old girl, sobbing at the end of a book. That reaction will remain etched in my mind forever.
Later on in high school when it came time to read the works of none other than William Shakespeare, two in particular became clear favorites: A Midsummer Night's Dream - so magical, with such a whimsical air of fantasy, just pure fun; and my number one Shakespeare favorite: Julius Caesar. In fact, I remember I liked Julius Caesar so much that I read it twice.
But when it comes to world-renowned works read in high school, none was as meaningful, as beautiful, as one of the pillars of literature, Don Quijote de la Mancha. What a story, so full of irony, puns, comedy, but yet with such a deep philosophical message. The beautiful story about the most famous dreamer that ever was. What a special book that was for me to read. And what a privilege to have been able to read it in its original language, Spanish.
But inasmuch as I enjoyed these works of literary art at such a young age, did I really get them? Did I really absorb the profound significance of their message? Could I? Were the authors' intentions for them to be read by such an inexperienced, budding audience in the first place?
Time goes by, we age, we experience love, heartbreak, career success, failure, parenthood for some, divorce for others, and with all of this new-found experience life has bestowed upon us comes the need to re-experience these classics. It's imperative that we go back and revisit these literary works. Imagine the richness twenty-plus years later, with all this acquired wisdom casting a light down on the rereading experience. Indeed, the classics need to be re-experienced in that bright renewed light, the light of knowledge, maturity, worldliness, understanding, awareness. The pages will become brighter, the print sharper, the message deeper and clearer and we will come to really get them when we shine upon them that warm, steady glow acquired by us all courtesy of the passing of time.
Just like Anna Quindlen re-experienced Moby Dick as a mature woman and realized how perhaps she didn't really get it when she was in college, perhaps I'll start with To Kill A Mockingbird, just to see if I'll have the same reaction as that little girl had when she turned that very last page. Although somehow I think that that little girl did get it after all.
A manifesto on how to live life, on how to prioritize what is really important.
Read it slowly. And really think about it.
This is your life. Do what you love, and do it often. If you don't like something, change it. If you don't like your job, quit. If you don't have enough time, stop watching tv. If you are looking for the love of your life, stop; they will be waiting for you when you start doing things you love. Stop over analyzing, life is simple. All emotions are beautiful. When you eat, appreciate every last bite. Open your mind, arms, and heart to new things and people. We are united in our differences. Ask the next person you see what their passion is, and share your inspiring dream with them. Travel often; getting lost will help you find yourself. Some opportunities come only once; seize them. Life is about the people you meet and the things you create with them so go out and start creating. Life is short. Live your dream and share your passion.
If you know me really well, you know that I worship George Winston. That I believe he is the greatest pianist on the planet. I was introduced to his music through a boyfriend back in college. Now that I'm middle aged I've listened to various other pianists over the years, but my loyalty remains true to G.W., who I was blessed to hear in concert back in the 80s during my college years, a blessing that I'm hoping to be privileged enough to have again in the future.
I believe his gift is in making such beautiful art in such a simple way, as often some of his simplest, most uncomplicated pieces are his most breathtaking. Take "Thanksgiving" (album: DECEMBER), among his oldest, and categorically my #1 favorite. So very moving, perhaps a touch on the sad side for parts of it, yet haunting, spiritual, inspirational, sublime... I can't say enough about this piece. Definitely tops my G.W. list of favorites.
Enjoy...
I love the fact that all the images on this video are shots of nature. But of course, I'd say that.
Then take "Colors/Dance" (album: AUTUMN), so aptly titled in my opinion because of the way in which, as the piece progresses it's all about his fingers doing this exquisite dance on the ivories. This one takes you through an up and down of emotions, and as such I think it invokes more of the senses. That's one of the reasons I love it so much. See what you think...
I thought the image choices that went into this video were great. I particularly enjoyed the human figures exploding out of paint bottles in a joyous dance. I'd love to grace one of my walls with that piece, I like it so much.
And what about his rendition of the traditional English Christmas carol "The Holly and the Ivy" (album: DECEMBER). A myriad of versions exist of this, of course, so many of them taking a particularly serene and solemn tone. What I enjoy so much about G.W.'s version is how merry and joyous it is. I particularly love the change around 2:04 - 2:05 in this video. The melody of this whole piece is just beautiful and uplifting enough as it is, but this little movement change just takes my breath away. Absolutely exquisite.
Lastly, there's "Some Children See Him", also from his album DECEMBER. Two things I adore about this piece. One is that it is a perfect example of my point that sometimes his most simplest music is his most divine. This arrangement isn't a complicated one, when you really listen closely to what both hands are doing and dissect it in your mind, but put both of them together and that simplicity is precisely what makes it so ethereal when they harmoniously become one. Another thing I love about this piece, nerdy as it may be, is his use of the sustain pedal, the most commonly used one when playing piano (the one on the right). The pedal and the wonderful way in which he makes notes cleanly and purely linger is essential to the air of this piece in many places of it. When you use the pedal wrong it can result in notes getting mushed together and sound like noise instead of music. But G.W. wouldn't do that. I love his use of it here.
I cannot get enough of George Winston's work. What a gift to music.
We have this code phrase at work that we use on anyone's newly-acquired significant other: his or her "just friend". This phrase was unknowingly used by our summer student today, so she was set straight as to what that means within our group. Later on, one of my coworkers called me to let me know that on yahoo.com an article popped up on how to go from "just friends" to something more. He found it such a funny coincidence that such an article showed up today, when we were precisely talking about the concept of "just friends" with our summer student. All wrapped up into the magical coincidence making today "just friends" day.
Almost four years ago one of my coworkers came to this country from abroad to join our group. She knew no one in our city. She was single, unattached. At a party with people from her home country she was introduced to this young man, also single and unattached. At the time she was looking for someone to teach her how to drive as she was new to the U.S. and was working on getting her driver's license. What started as parking lot lessons turned into longer trips and, before she knew it, a relationship blossomed. However, anytime we asked, she replied with a coy, shy smile: "We're just friends".
"Just friends, huh?" we all quipped.
They're now happily married with a 2-year old son, and planning for a second child perhaps next year. So much for "just friends".
In two occasions, the last of which was last year, I used this infamous phrase to refer to new love interests in my life. At the mere mention that I had a "just friend", they all fluttered with excitement wanting to know more, "just friend" being code for the juicier "more than just friends".
So naturally I had to read this yahoo.com article by Kimberly Dawn Neumann that my coworker pointed me to on how to go from "just friends" to something more. The article goes over 5 steps in order to achieve such a transition: looking before you leap, testing the waters, making your move, steaming things up, and announcing your new status. If ever there is one resounding theme throughout that article, it is the one thing that we have known since the beginning of time. And that is that the deal-breaker, the make-it or break-it, the absolute must-have in order for a relationship to even get off the starting block is communication.
You can't have a successful (loving, harmonious, happy, joyous, blissful, fair, comfortable, insert your own adjective denoting success) relationship without communication.
Talk. Discuss. Everything. Anything. A lot. Question. Answer. Ponder. Laugh. Cry. Argue. Ponder some more. Ask. Communicate. A lot.
The thing is, you can't even have the start of a relationship without communication. I mean, how will the other person even know you want to start something if you don't communicate that? I know better than anyone on the planet what I feel, but how will the other person know what I feel unless I communicate that? Likewise, the other person may have the most awesome, wonderful intentions, but really, without a crystal ball I will never be able to read them. The one problem I still need to overcome on this is that I'm not one of these modern women totally unafraid to be the forward one making all the first moves... and I suppose I couldn't be the one to drop on one knee and propose, either. I guess I'm shaped in too old-school of a mold when it comes to "first moves early on in relationships". Couple this with men being so anti relationship talk, and therein lies the root of my quandary. But I understand that nothing sends a relationship quicker into the gutter of failure than forcing the other person to have to read between the lines because you're too afraid to communicate what you truly feel. I particularly could relate to the point the author made about stating your expectations early on, which again drives the point home of the importance of communication. More often than not the two people involved have completely different expectations and it is not until this is talked out that they come to this realization. Worse yet, sometimes one side is operating under the assumption that they know what the other person's expectations are. Nothing could be further from correct than assuming.... anything. Let's face it: you just don't know what the other person is thinking or feeling. You're digging your own grave by thinking that you do and worse yet, by operating under mere assumptions or stereotypes. You're really not affording the other any kind of fair treatment by lumping them into categories or societal statistics rather than simply getting to know them as the individual that he or she is via communication.
Relationships can be challenging, especially in the beginning, even when there is communication. Imagine the insurmountable wall you're creating for yourself when you deprive a budding relationship of that. Especially, of all people, your "just friend". I'm a firm believer in treating a relationship as a living, breathing being. Nurture it properly and it will blossom into the most beautiful creature you could ever dream of. But deprive it of the most essential nutrients it needs for survival and, sadly, like a forgotten plant or neglected pet, it will quickly perish. Communication is as essential a nutrient for a relationship's survival as water is for every living thing on this planet. A relationship can't be subject to neglect any more than any other living thing can, unless you want it to die.
And so, my coworker approached me later on today, asking what I thought of that article. I reviewed what the jist of it was, thinking about how every reader probably gleaned something different than I did. We each read with our own pair of eyes after all, and through my brown pair of "windows to life" I gaze at things differently than others do through theirs. He commented what a funny coincidence it was that on the same day that the topic of "just friends" came up among us, that article popped up on yahoo.com. Funny coincidence indeed. But the best part was that we were able to talk about it. To communicate. What a gift.
If there's one thing the political right prides itself on is love of country. Come the Fourth of July, no group sings Lee Greenwood's "Proud To Be An American" louder than conservatives. It is the right that thanks a little louder, bows a little deeper every Memorial Day or Veteran's Day, somehow having taken ownership of all things patriotic. But as is so often the case with conservatives, their speech is rooted in a moral void, their words lacking the very same actions which should be carried out to back them up.
At a time when our country is technically inching its way out of a recession and dangling on an economic high wire perhaps about to fall right back into another one, with unemployment hovering just above 9%, the extent to which conservatives protect the corporate giants - the so-called "job providers" - from contributing their fair share to this country's economy (the country they claim to "love") is astonishing. Revolting, and astonishing.
And why? Because dare we not hurt the "job providers"? As the masses of average, working Americans await to figure out how to put food on the table, wade through stacks of unemployment paperwork - if they can even get unemployment - and try to find jobs that aren't there, we dare not hurt the "job providers" who are providing jobs that are as tangible as Mr. Snuffleupagus was to everyone on Sesame Street whose name wasn't Big Bird. At least in this country. For yes, they're job providers, alright - to the citizens of India, or Instanbul, or Costa Rica, or China, or wherever else they're choosing to outsource the very jobs they should be providing to their own people right here in America. Labor is cheaper there, and requirements such as health care provisions and such are nonexistent - what a sweet deal it is. And this is how these so-called "job providers" are showing us that they... care about American jobs? By outsourcing them? While our people continue to hope for these elusive jobs from the so-called "job providers", the political right continues to ferociously build them a contribution-proof, impenetrable protective bunker, the mother of all tax nuclear fallout shelters. Ah yes, the so-called patriotic, conservative, do-all-that-is-right... "Americans".
Hurt? Would it really hurt these corporate giants if they contributed an amount commensurate with their profits for the benefit of their country? Would that not be the real trickle down? How many more decades are average Americans supposed to continue to wait for the rich and for corporate to turn on their faucets? Could this not be the panacea for our economic ills? Alas, corporate plumbing was never supposed to work that way in the first place. It's all been a conservative fallacy from as far back as the late 19th century. There's been trickling, alright: profits have trickled from the big corporate giants' hose bibs right back into their own pockets. All we have seen is the richer become richer, the poorer become poorer, and the middle class struggle in between. Ever-enlarged, deeply-soaked pockets - the pockets of these so-called patriotic, conservative, do-all-that-is-right.... "Americans".
It's interesting how everyone has their own idea of what love is or is supposed to be. Here I was thinking that love of country might perhaps have to do with a legitimate concern for your fellow citizens, an earnest interest in the needs of others, an honest desire to help your fellow man, a sincere want to make the country a better place in which to live, and that people that elected to work in public office made it a point to live up to these values. I thought that people that felt a calling to work for their country did so because they felt in their heart a true-blue love of... country.
Instead, all I see are these so-called "job providers" not only not providing nearly enough jobs right here in America as they should and not being held accountable in the least, but them being fiercely sheltered and protected from contributing their fair share to their country's economy under the umbrella of a failed, flawed economic theory by the very same group who proclaims to be the poster children of all that is patriotic, of all that is love of... country?
I'm sorry, but no. This is hypocritical love of country. Love of self, but not love of country. This is an insulting farce lacking in moral fiber. Next Fourth of July they'll sing Lee Greenwood's "Proud to be an American" off the top of their lungs, a charade that once again will be about anything but love of country.
It's not a new song, but it's new to me. I'm so happy to have recently discovered it. So angelic, with lyrics so beautifully sweet, that I decided to put it up here.
Makes me think of the days of young love; love so sweet, real, exciting, pure, innocent, honest, trusting, passionate. Invoking all 5 senses, loving like you've never been hurt. Taking risks without thinking twice about it.
No, we're never too old to feel young love again. God, if only.... May it hit us like a ton of bricks, make us queasy with jittery nervousness, butterflies of excitement, and restless, sleepless nights.
To young love...
by Joshua Radin & Schuyler Fisk
Lyrics:
Been up all night staring at you
Wondering what's on your mind
I've been this way with so many before but this feels like the first time
You want the sunrise to go back to bed
I want to make you laugh
Mess up my bed with me
Kick off the covers
I'm waiting
Every word you say I think I should write down
Don't want to forget come daylight
Happy to lay here
Just happy to be here
I'm happy to know you
Play me a song
Your newest one
Please leave your taste on my tongue
Paperweight on my back
Cover me like a blanket
Mess up my bed with me
Kick off the covers
I'm waiting
Every word you say I think I should write down
Don't want to forget come daylight
And no need to worry
That's wasting time
And no need to wonder what's been on my mind
It's you
It's you
It's you
Every word you say I think I should write down
Don't want to forget come daylight
And I give up
I let you win
You win 'cause I'm not counting
You made it back to sleep again
Wonder what you're dreamin
Apparently, Tea Party Terrorists, you still want to kill the hostages. After all, what do you know about thinking of the needs of your fellow man. Compassion is as foreign a word to you people as the word compromise (among many others).
What should have been a clean deal on whether or not to raise the debt ceiling was hijacked the way of the 9/11 airplanes by the ruthless, illogical, egotistical and downright vicious extreme right in Congress and aimed nose first into the towers that are the poor and oppressed lower and middle classes in this country, loading these planes with unnecessary heavy-set cargo in the form of additional demands to further their wicked agenda in favor of the filthy rich. Even Senate minority leader Mitch McConnell admited the debt ceiling was a hostage "worth ransoming". The extreme right simply said "we'll address the debt ceiling issue but not unless we get this and this and this and this while we're at it, too" and the mainstream right failed at bringing them in line otherwise. And because the debt ceiling deadline was looming, without compliance of which the government would have gone into default leading to a very plausible economic debacle with potentially global repercussions, President Obama, in a case of being caught between a rock and a hard place, simply went along with it. And Speaker Boehner now brags that they he got 98% of what he wanted.
Frankly? I would have much rather seen Obama resort to the 14th amendment, if for no other reason than a) to see him be more of a democrat, in hopes of seeing him stand up for democrat principles, and b) because the worsening of the current economic situation (for the average American, of course) which will unravel from this deal will be tagged on nobody's head but his own. This, despite the fact that this deal was born out of Republican minds by Republican congressmen in the House. The right will categorically stop at nothing to shatter the Obama administration in every way, from every angle. To the rest of America and the world Obama may appear as the most compromising president in recent history, perhaps too compromising, but the rabid right will not cease until they've buried his name in the history books as a 1-term president (in the likes of George H.W. Bush et al). Obama truly is damned if he does and damned if he doesn't. All part of the modern-day lynching that the right have been dead set on carrying out since January 20, 2009.
Meanwhile, you have representative Doug Lamborn (R-CO) referring to President Obama as a "tar baby", you have Pat Buchanan referring to him as "boy", you have representative Joe Walsh (R-IL) recently saying he doesn't want to impose a financial burden on his children while exposed as a revolting dead-beat dad, and in a most shameless, filthy act of profiteering, presidential hopeful Mike Huckabee has decided that it's OK to cash in on the cruelest assault on American lives in American soil by selling cartoon videos indoctrinating our children on hisskewed version of history. Interestingly, this video stamps the word "DECEASED" over a caricature of Osama Bin Laden then follows this with a George W. Bush cartoon giving a speech through a megaphone over the rubble of the twin towers, easily confusing any easily-confusable child viewer into thinking that Bin Laden was killed before the cleanup of the towers was even finished, when in fact Bin Laden was killed "just the other day" by the Obama administration, not Bush's. I imagine that the families of the 9/11 victims will not see a penny from all of the profits Huckabee will garner out of this. After all, there's no claim to the contrary on his "Learn Our History" website.
That this type of right-winged indoctrination parallels that carried out during Nazi Germany or Zedong China is a most fitting comparison, to say the least. It's as if the right is on a relentless quest to reinvent and rewrite all of history. Hollywood would be hardpressed to come up with story lines like these.
Really.... I mean, how do these people sleep at night. The Bible-beating, ignorant, amoral right. Nauseating. Despicable. Rabid.
When we lose loved ones, we feel deep pain. When we lose family members, our hearts ache beyond description. They leave an immense hole that can't ever be filled by anyone else. We suffer, we hurt, we mourn.
When we lose an innocent little creature who was both family and a loved one, it's a uniquely sad moment in time.
Today I lost a loved one; I lost a family member. Today I lost my Angel of Hope. "Hope" to the rest of the world; playmate and "big sister" to little Grace; and little special angel to me.
Oct./Nov. 1997 - 8/2/2011 - "Hope" (registered as "Angel of Hope")
Words fail me in describing how special you were, Hope. My little rescue baby, having been turned in at a shelter then at Dachshund Rescue where they held out very little hope for you. Demodex mange, bronchitis, emaciated, dehydrated, a host of worms, ear infections, ticks, fleas.... that's what you were like when you were found, a cute little puppy back then. But you never, ever stopped fighting. You were a fighter from the start. "Angel" they called you, and with me wanting to name my next one "Hope", the formal, registered name "Angel of Hope" couldn't have been more fitting for a perfect little angel like you.
You came to us and Winnie wanted nothing to do with you. But you somehow managed to show her you were worth tolerating. You were so full of energy my family called you "La Loca" - The Crazy One. And when Winnie died you truly mourned. You were changed, you temporarily stopped caring for squeaky toys, you did wrong things that you'd never done before. Mommy forgave you - she knew you were confused by the disappearance of your beloved "big sister". You were always such an emotional little girl.
You fought your way through disc surgery. You fought your way through multiple skin issues. You fought your way through a world that always seemed so scary to you. Mommy was always there... protecting you.
You tolerated the big crazy boy Peavey for as long as you could. And when it became evident that he was more than you could handle, mommy put you first. Another home had to be found for Peavey - your last few years being safe and peaceful were the only priority for mommy.
But alas, aging took the best of you so very quickly. Blind, small and weak. It happened so, so fast. What wonderful 13 1/2 years you gave me. The same exact number that Winnie gave me; I guess you didn't want to outdo your "big sister".
And now you're at that special place with your beloved "big sister" Winnie. You've arrived at that coveted place where all innocent, loving creatures such as yourself go when they leave this Earth:
My little family is now smaller. I mourn, I ache, I'm not the same without you. You were so unique... words truly fail me. Mommy's heart is shattered, but you are where you need to be now. You went peacefully, naturally. I'd like to think that your pain, if any, was minimal.
R.I.P. my little Angel of Hope. This house just isn't the same without you. Gracie and I miss you so much. See you at The Bridge someday.
