Let Them Eat Candy!

I’ve had a Come to Reese’s moment about Halloween. Since having kids, I’d become a bit of a Halloween Grinch. The whole holiday is exhausting for parents of young children. The costume dramas, the school parties, the candy wrappers all over the house, the kids hyped up on sugar. I couldn’t wait until November 1 each year when I could turn my mind from goblins to saints.

And I had a hard and fast rule about trick or treating. My kids were done after eighth grade. I found it obnoxious for hulking teenagers to show up at my door with their giant pillowcases, begging for treats. Many of them didn’t even dress up! Of course, I always gave them candy. I’d learned from Larry David’s experience on Curb Your Enthusiasm what happens to homeowners who refuse teenagers treats.

But this fall I’ve seen a plethora of articles and memes on Facebook imploring people to give teens a chance to go out with their pint-sized brethren and snag a few Snickers bars. After all, trick or treating is an innocent and harmless activity. More importantly, it brings out the child in our adolescents who are trying in so many other ways to be too cool for school.

Maybe I’m becoming soft in my old age. Now that my youngest is 17, maybe I’m just nostalgic for the days when my little princesses and pirates were dumping out their hauls of candy on my family room floor, excitedly chatting about their trick or treating adventures. Let’s face it. My adult children are more likely to be downing shots than M&Ms this Halloween.

So when my 17-year-old mentioned that some of her friends were going to trick or treat, I suggested she join them.

“Who are you?” she demanded. Like my other kids, she had internalized the “no trick or treating in high school” rule. (Who says I’m not an effective parent?)

“Sure,” I encouraged her. “I’ve had a change of heart about the whole thing. It’s a fun, wholesome activity. You should go.”

I even offered to make her and her friends our traditional Halloween snacks of wienie dogs and Bagel Bites. (Who says I’m not a provider of healthy food?)

Will she take me up on my offer to let her be a kid for the day? I hope so. And I hope to see fun-loving teenagers at my door tonight. With one caveat: I draw the line on trick or treaters who don’t wear a costume. So teens, put on some devil horns or cat ears and come on over!

Trump Can’t Lead Without Moral Compass

President Trump chose to mark the loss of 11 lives due to white nationalist terrorism by traveling to Southern Illinois for another political rally. His visit was ostensibly to campaign for other Republicans, but really it was just to talk about himself and take jabs at Democrats and Hillary Clinton. These are not the actions of a leader.

Sure, Trump made a few remarks about his supposed intolerance for anti-Semitism. But in the days since the devastating attack on Jewish members of a Pittsburgh synagogue, the President of the United States has managed to do what he does best: make it all about him. He even complained that he was probably attacked more than anyone. Gee, Mr. Trump. Is that how you plan to comfort the loved ones of the deceased?

In the past two weeks, we have seen a series of attacks on the part of disgruntled white men who love everything Donald Trump stands for. First, law enforcement officials arrested the man accused of sending pipe bombs in the mail to prominent Democrats. He was a white nationalist whose actions gelled around his support for Trump and the politics of hate. Trump used the arrest not to appeal for peace and understanding, but to call for a renewed use of the death penalty.

Now we have one of the worst anti-Semitic attacks committed on U.S. soil in decades. But far from being able to rely on our president to lead us away from such violence, we have one who calls white nationalists “fine people” and uses dog whistle politics to appeal to their racism. Besides, he has to get back to his relentless attack on the caravan of undesirables heading for the U.S. border. It’s the only way to get Republicans elected these days apparently.

That Donald Trump has no sense of decency was revealed way back in 2015 when he started to campaign for president by claiming that the current one was an African-born Muslim. Throughout the campaign, he hurled insults and slurs, fomented white rage, and even suggested he’d hit on his own daughter if they weren’t related. He bragged about paying no taxes and grabbing women’s genitalia. Did we really expect him to get in office and suddenly start acting “presidential”?

Donald Trump even mocks the notion of being presidential by imitating a robot and garnering a few laughs at his omnipresent political rallies. No, we can’t expect leadership from a man who lives in a moral vacuum. And our country is much the worse for it.

Term Limits

As much as I would have loved to have another four years of President Obama, I’m grateful that U.S. presidents are restricted to two terms. Those term limits protect us from a power-hungry individual grasping the reins indefinitely. Why not apply the same approach to other elected officials?

During the Brett Kavanaugh Supreme Court hearings, columnist Maureen Dowd pointed out that two of the senators questioning Christine Blasey Ford about her allegations of sexual assault were present nearly 27 years ago when Anita Hill similarly made accusations against Clarence Thomas. (“Sick to Your Stomach? #MeToo,” The New York Times, Sept. 22, 2018)

The same players enacting the same play on the national stage for decades is part of the reason our Congress has become out of touch and ineffective. Insulated from meaningful political challenges, these lawmakers concentrate on consolidating power and enriching themselves and their cronies. The likes of Mitch McConnell are only too happy to condemn “entitlements” while enjoying the Rolls Royce of health care, generous pensions, and lucrative lobbying opportunities once they leave office – if they ever do.

And it’s not just Republicans who overstay their welcome in government. Here in my home state of Illinois, Democrat Mike Madigan and his cronies have had a stranglehold on the state legislature, making any meaningful reform impossible.

Mandatory term limits on all elected offices would make government more of a public service than the cushy career it has become. If government officials were only allowed to serve a certain number of years, we taxpayers could forgo paying them costly pensions for life once they left public office. Instead, they could be given a one time bonus to thank them for serving the public and then be forced to return to the private sector to support themselves the way the majority of Americans do.

Along with term limits, we need stricter rules about former officials’ ability to join lobbying organizations once they leave office. Such rules would help prevent our government officials from being beholden to special interests, and their legislative or executive decisions would be based upon their own values and those of their constituencies.

People will argue that there is already a system of term limits in America: the ability to vote these “lifers” out. This argument ignores the strong advantage of incumbency in elections. It’s hard enough to get even a sizable minority of Americans to vote, much less put in the effort required to determine which candidates are best. Most people rely on default – voting for the guy (or gal) whose name they already know.

Both Democrats and Republicans have been decrying the lack of actual governing by our elected leaders. Gridlock in Washington, as well as in many states, has left Americans cynical and fatalistic about politics. Perhaps this is one of the reasons so few people even bother to go to the polls and vote.

On November 6, Americans have the opportunity to change the face of Congress and state and local legislatures, as well as executive offices such as governor and mayor. Maybe we should start electing candidates who favor mandatory term limits in government. It would be a step toward revitalizing our democracy and encouraging young Americans to see public service as just that.

 

 

Teach Your Children Well

The other day I got behind the wheel of my husband’s car and panicked. The fuel tank was so low that the warning light had come on, and the needle was perilously close to empty.

“Relax,” my husband said. “You’ve got 28 miles before the gas runs out.”

I didn’t trust it. Ever since I started driving at age 16, I had been taught by my father never to let the gas gauge go under a quarter of a tank. It was wise advice that has kept me from being one of those roadside losers who run out of gas and have to call AAA or hoof it for miles to the nearest gas station. To this day, I make sure to fill the tank it gets close to the quarter mark.

The lessons our parents teach stick with us for the rest of our lives. I remember once shopping with my mom at a department store. She had been carrying a couple of pairs of pajamas in her arms, considering whether or not to buy them, and was no doubt distracted by having several children in tow. As she left the store and headed into the parking lot, she noticed she was still carrying the unpaid for merchandise. No sensors had gone off, and no security guard had hustled after her. But she turned right around and marched us all back into the store so that she could return the clothes. That simple action taught me never to take what wasn’t mine and to be honest and scrupulous in other areas of life.

Other things my parents taught me over the years were not to swear, not to fight (physically), to treat people with respect, write thank you notes, work hard, play fair, and take credit only for one’s own work. Most of these things they taught, not by words, but by example.

Our children are little sponges soaking up the atmosphere around them. They note what we do and say way more than we would like to think. For instance, when my oldest child was little, one of her first words started with “sh.” Clearly she heard me cursing under my breath frequently throughout the day and was simply mimicking me. Luckily, her baby voice wasn’t super clear, so no one but I knew what she was actually saying. This same child loved to hover around the edges of adult conversation as she grew up. I truly hope that what she heard from her dad and me was positive and life-affirming, not gossipy or negative. But I’m not kidding myself.

As kids get older, they tune out a lot of what their parents say. But they are still watching what we do. If our lives convey honesty, respect, compassion, and integrity, they will come to value those qualities in themselves. If we take care of our health, eat right, and exercise, so will they.

Of course, children are not clones. They will make mistakes and err in judgment just as we did when we were young. But if we are careful as parents to model lives of kindness and responsibility, the trajectory of our kids’ lives is likely to follow a similar path.

As Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young sang, “Teach your children well.” When they become parents themselves, they will remember the lessons of their youth and carry them forward into the future.

Gutter Politics

I understand, Senator Warren. After months of baiting by the Mocker-in-Chief, you couldn’t resist publicizing the results of a DNA test demonstrating that you do indeed have Native American ancestry. And contrary to the dismissive takes on those DNA results by conservative pundits, it’s possible that you do have a fairly close relative who was Cherokee. (“Just about everything you’ve read on the Warren DNA test is wrong,” Washington Post, Oct. 18, 2018)

Many people forget the origin of Trump’s nonstop taunting of Warren and calling her Pocahontas: failed senatorial candidate Scott Brown. During the Massachusetts campaign, Brown unearthed Warren’s listing herself as Native American in a Harvard Law School directory and started slinging mud, implying that she was using some remote claim to get into law school and get ahead. (Funny how no one brought up Brown’s questionable decision to pose nude in Cosmo during his law school days.) So it has always been Republicans who have brought up Sen. Warren’s claims to Native American heritage, not Warren herself.

Of course, Warren’s news has not helped her politically at all. Trump, of course, doubled down on the mockery. He’s not a man who would ever apologize or admit to being wrong about something. And no matter how much he lies, how big of a buffoon he acts at rallies, and whether he describes women as “horseface” or brags about grabbing them “by the pussy,” Trump’s supporters will never desert him.

The Cherokee Nation is also displeased at the implication that having some Native American DNA makes a person part of that culture. Despite the fact that Warren has never claimed tribal membership in the Cherokee Nation, they see her release of a DNA test as nothing more than a political stunt. If I were them, I’d be a little more worried about my people being disenfranchised by unprincipled Republicans, frankly. But their stance has not helped Warren politically.

Let’s face it. Republicans are really good at mud-slinging. They faced little repercussion for calling Michelle Obama the president’s “baby mama” or for fostering claims that Pres. Obama was not born in the United States. They’ve allowed Trump to call white nationalists “fine people” and to make up offensive nicknames for anyone who opposes him. Even “Little Marco” Rubio and “Lyin’ Ted” Cruz have basically taken it in the nether regions and accepted Trump’s leadership.

This is what bullies do. They don’t have true leadership qualities, so they push people around and call them names. And I do like the fact that Sen. Warren pushes back. She has relentlessly criticized this Administration for its many unprincipled actions since Trump took office and continued to crusade for fairness for the poor and middle class. She is not afraid of Trump. But in the face of his relentless taunts, she did succumb to temptation and descended into the gutter with him.

The problem with getting into the gutter is that you will get dirty – or killed.

 

 

Writers on Writing

If the writers I’ve been listening to lately are right, then I’m not really a writer.

The other day I saw an excellent movie titled The Wife, starring Glenn Close as the wife of a Nobel Prize-winning novelist. During the course of the movie, the idea is reiterated that writers must write – that’s it’s excruciating and horrible but that it’s almost an uncontrollable compulsion.

Author Judy Blume said much the same thing last Wednesday at the Carl Sandburg Literary Awards dinner, where she was on hand to accept an honor for her body of work and to discuss the writing life with NPR host Scott Simon and fellow author Neil DeGrasse Tyson. During the conversation, Blume made the oft-repeated claim that writing was akin to breathing; she simply had to write in order to live.

I find this notion about writing to be a bit romantic. Writing is a decidedly tedious, unglamorous undertaking. Writer’s block and procrastination are almost as famous as the old saw that real writers need to write. For myself, it’s easy to let my other responsibilities and desires overshadow my urge to write. Maybe I just don’t want to admit to myself that I don’t have what it takes to be a real writer. But it seems to me that the way to determine if you’re a writer is simply to suck it up and write, no matter the exigency.

In his book The War of Art, Steven Pressfield describes the Resistance that afflicts all artists, and he prescribes a simple antidote: Get up, go to the computer, and write. Do it every day and don’t stew over every word as it leaves your mind and hits the screen. Thumb your nose at Resistance and get on with it.

For over four years, I have been faithfully writing a minimum of two blog posts per week. I have maintained this regimen no matter what the circumstances, whether sick or well, traveling or at home. It might not be much, but it tells me that I have some sense of the discipline involved in being a writer.

Do I need to write? No. But I acknowledge the reality. If one is to be a writer, one must write. End of story.

SMH!!!!!

In one of the opening episodes of the HBO series The Newsroom, a young intern is tasked with sending flowers to a staff member who recently lost a loved one. Her boss confronts her about the message she had included with the flowers: “So sorry for your loss. LOL????”

“I thought it meant ‘Lots of Love,'” the intern explains apologetically. Mind you, one would think a Millennial would be more well versed in the latest slang: textspeak. Since the invention of texting in the 1990s, the popularity of communicating by cellphone text has exploded. In fact, my kids will rarely answer if I call their cellphones. But they will answer right away if I text them. And no, they are not unable to speak because they are in the Situation Room dealing with a crisis in the Middle East.

Along with the convenience of texting came the inevitable abbreviations that make texting quicker – but also more confusing. I’ve had to ask people (mostly my kids) the meaning of such shorthand as “LMK,” “IDK,” and “SMH.” Textspeak has started to feel like a special lingo for the young – with nuances we old fogeys can barely grasp.

For instance, I was unaware that if a person texted me an invitation to do something and I simply responded, “Sure,” that would mean that I was only begrudgingly willing to do so. Similarly, in an attempt to seem cooler than I actually am, I once answered my daughter’s request with a simple “K” for “okay.” Little did I know that just typing “K” implied that I was mad at her. Ditto for using “…” as an ellipsis for one’s thoughts.

Who knew that simple abbreviations and punctuation use (or the lack thereof) could carry such emotional weight in communication? I find myself peppering my texts with hundreds of exclamation points like an overly peppy high school cheerleader passing notes in English class – rather than the sober-minded woman who qualifies for the senior citizen discount at the movie theater.

Emoji use is also fraught with the potential for misunderstandings. Is that a smile or a grimace on that round yellow face? Should I use this winking emoji, or will that come off as flirting? What if I accidentally select the vomiting or poop emoji and send it to a friend?

For millennia, the younger generation has found ways of separating itself from the older one. They develop unique tastes in music and fashion. And they create their own special language to bond with their tribe while remaining opaque to the elders they are leaving in the dust.

The problem is that we Baby Boomers still think of ourselves as the younger generation. We try to stay young with our skinny jeans and skinny lattes. And we will continue to butcher the new language of the young – textspeak – as long as we have the use of our opposable thumbs and our everlasting urge to be:

 

 

Ignoring the Glock In the Room

[A peek inside the gun vault of the Chicago Police Department. (Photo: Fox)]

Donald Trump and his buddy Jeff Sessions are at it again – taking aim at Chicago’s persistent problem with gun violence and coming up with all the wrong solutions.

Yesterday President Trump displayed his contempt for constitutional rights by declaring that the Chicago Police Department needs to institute a “stop and frisk” policy to stem the tide of gun homicides that has plagued the Second City for many years. Never mind that studies show such policies disproportionately target blacks and other minorities, especially in white neighborhoods. Never mind that a white Chicago police officer was just convicted of second degree murder for shooting a black suspect 16 times. The idea of giving police officers more license to confront people randomly  does not sit well with a community still reeling from the sight of that awful video and from the scandal of the city covering up that shooting.

Attorney General Sessions plans to make a statement opposing federal oversight of a sweeping police reform plan being proposed in Chicago. Sessions argues that the 2015 consent decree between the Chicago PD and the ACLU was responsible for an upsurge in homicides in 2016. The consent decree required documentation for every stop police made of a potential crime suspect.

But there is no evidence that the documentation burden on its own caused an upswing in violence. Furthermore, homicides increased in a number of U.S. cities in 2016. What is unique about Chicago is that “more homicides were committed with guns in Chicago than other cities.” (“Few answers as Chicago hit with worst violence in nearly 20 years,” Chicago Tribune, Dec. 30, 2016)

Once again, our NRA-backed leaders leave out one of the most obvious issues when it comes to violence in Chicago: the proliferation of guns in our city. A lack of federal oversight and lax gun laws in the states surrounding Illinois make it far too easy to obtain guns, whether legally or illegally. The cost of an illegal firearm goes up dramatically when strict gun laws are in place. But Illinois’ relatively strict gun laws are meaningless when a gang member can make a 30 minute drive to Indiana to obtain a weapon.

Chicagoans are tired of being singled out by New Yorker Donald Trump for the rate of violent crime in our city, which isn’t even the highest in the country, contrary to popular belief. But what is really maddening is listening to our president propose wholesale violations of citizens’ rights instead of looking at one of the real solutions: making it harder to get a gun. Until we remove the NRA’s stranglehold on politicians and policy makers, gun violence will continue to plague our country, in Chicago and across the nation.

 

 

Indigenous Peoples Day

Most of us know that Native Americans were driven off of their tribal lands by white colonialism and later U.S. territorial expansion from the day Christopher Columbus landed in the Caribbean islands, thinking he had found the East Indies. Far from celebrating Columbus’ “discovery” of America, many Americans feel it would be more appropriate either to eliminate the holiday called Columbus Day or change its focus and rename it Indigenous Peoples Day.

I would support the idea of reclaiming the dignity, traditions, and history of our native people by honoring them with a U.S. holiday. For far too long, Native Americans have been depicted as primitive and warlike people of whom white settlers were justifiably afraid. I will never forget how, as a child, I was terrified of the sinister figure Injun Joe from Mark Twain’s novel Tom Sawyer. Movie westerns portrayed Indians as savage figures eager to scalp poor defenseless pioneers. In this way, white America was able to gloss over or justify the extermination and essentially, the internment, of Native American people on small tracts of land called reservations.

More and more, American history teachers are bringing to light the larger story of American colonialism and westward expansion, a story that includes the unfortunate plight of the Native American. Understanding this history is an important step and should be acknowledged on this day set aside to honor a man whose actions towards the native people were often horrific and violent.

But we must go beyond a mere recognition of the atrocities of the past. Native Americans today suffer from high rates of poverty, alcoholism, and diabetes. Their right to operate casinos is a mixed blessing that brings with it certain unsavory elements. And the destruction of their tribal way of life has marginalized the customs and sacred traditions of disparate native peoples. Instead, Native Americans are lumped together in the public mind as the monolithic “other.”

Our government needs to do more to address the endemic social and health problems of our Native American citizens. Modern Native Americans need to be recognized for their contributions in many areas of society. And Americans need to give up their beloved Indian mascots in order to erase generations of stereotyping of Indians.

So there is much to do in our society to further the cause of Native Americans in our country. And a national holiday in their honor is a great way to start.

“Midwife” Delivers Nostalgia

My sister and I share tastes in many things. We both love sweets, good books, and serious theater. So it was a bit odd that I didn’t immediately take her up on her suggestion that I watch the PBS series Call the Midwife. For the better part of two years, my sister would mention how much she loved this period piece about midwives set in London in the early Sixties. And for two years, the idea of the show lacked appeal to me.

Finally, I decided to give the show a try. I instantly fell in love with the nurses and nuns of Nonnatus House, a home for midwives in Poplar, a poor district in the East End of London. In each episode, these nurse midwives tend to the growing families’ needs for medical care, sustenance, and moral support in often rather grim conditions. Their life’s work is imbued with optimism and love, for both God and their neighbors.

The series, which completed its seventh season this past spring, also delves into the lives and loves of the Nonnatus House residents themselves. Based upon the memoirs of Jennifer Worth, the series begins with Jenny moving into the midwives’ domicile and struggling to be accepted in the small world of Poplar – and in the world of the religious sisters themselves. One of the nuns struggles with her growing affection for the local doctor. Another shows a gruff exterior that hides a kind and caring interior. The non-religious midwives also have their trials and tribulations, such as alcoholism and the hidden love for another woman.

I love the faithfulness to the culture of the early 1960s, where abortion and homosexuality were illegal, birth control was in its infancy, and most women in the area of Poplar gave birth at home. The clothing, hairstyles, music, and topical references all add to the realism that transports the viewer to another time and place that many remember well. In the season seven finale, for instance, the Nonnatus House residents learn that President John F. Kennedy has been killed.

I’ve learned some interesting things from watching the series. For example, I never knew that there were Anglican nuns. The sisters and their religious devotion are treated with great respect in the series. The beauty of their rituals, the habits they wear, and the love with which they minister to the needs of their community are all lovely depictions of what a life of faith can bring to the world.

Call the Midwife is a deeply heartfelt paean to a world and a time and place that seem distant but in many ways are not so far from our own modern trials and tribulations. There is plenty of childbirth on screen, so the show is definitely not for the squeamish. But the series has evoked so many tears from me – tears of sorrow, yes, but also tears of joy.

When season seven concludes, it is 1963. I look forward to next spring when the residents of Poplar take on 1964 with the same cheek, gusto, drama, and neighborly love that they’ve shown season after season on this wonderful series.

Newcomers to the series can catch all seven seasons of Call the Midwife on Netflix. Season 8 will debut with a Christmas special on PBS in December, followed by season 8 in the spring.

As for me, I will never doubt that sister of mine and her conviction that I’d like something. When it comes to most things, we are two peas in a pod.