Contaminated Sand--An Unlikely Lens

A shipment of sand from Kuwait is on its way to Idaho from California. The sand has been contaminated with lead and depleted uranium. READ ABOUT IT HERE. It serves as an interesting multi-dimensional lens through which to view the globalized aspects of war, waste, and its disposal. The sand was contaminated at a U.S. base in Kuwait during the first Gulf War. It is just now making its way across the oceans, to our continent and to our state where it will remain. When we talk about nuclear issues it is important to remember the ways such a concentrated power source is dispersed into so many different aspects of our shared cultural-historical experience. War, famine, economic insecurity, water scarcity, all of these factors are at play in our energy matrix existing within a frame of severe global insecurity. Our defense industry is, of course, deeply inter-linked because the energy used for public consumption of fuel is the same energy used to defend and attack in warfare. The consequences of its use are not always readily contained (as this example demonstrates) and will continue to present us with troubling contamination in terms of environmental and health-related risks for years to come.

PROMETHEAN IMPLICATIONS

Prometheus stole fire from Zeus and thus became the interlinking archetype between humans and technology. I had this professor in college who wrote about human's gendered relationship to technology in a book called CREATURES OF PROMETHEUS. His point was that we make and are re-made by technology. But further from there, we can thus read technology to tell us something about ourselves. One of his chapters focused on the Chernobyl Disaster. Pointing to what the accident said about how we are and the implications and effects, both literally gendered and designated so through discourse or normalization, or the way we treated the diseases that came from this accident, there is much to say about the the problematics of these relations. That is my interpretation of Tim anyways. So my point is this: Be wary of technology that promises Promethean strength. Let us not forget what happened to Prometheus. Our technology is within us, but it must never shape the balance to the extent that it completely becomes and consumes us. Nuclear technology should be treated with the utmost respect and consideration for its dangers. The nuclear industry is not doing this right now. They are selling a fantasy to consumers terrified of losing their quality of life. But undemocratic power leads to undemocratic relations. If push came to shove would you want to know how to use the wind, or would you like to fight for control of a nuclear reactor? It is an extreme, but it proves a point. We cannot mix these decisions into a martini built on capitalist nightmares. Remember that where we invest is our interest and will shape our futures. Our thirst must not overwhelm our practice.

Watch Out for Greenwashers

Just so you know, I am in a new job situation where having a venue to process the huge amounts of information I am getting regarding the broad area of nuclear power and renewable energy is critical to not being completely overwhelmed by my designated tasks to educate my state's citizens on the problematics of nuke power. As previous posts indicate, I am struggling to find the appropriate language to articulate my intuitive sense that nuclear power is just a darn bad idea. I am not yet ready to be set loose on a public education campaign, because I have not yet assimilated the information I am getting on nuclear power's pros and cons. This is the critical first juncture of turning my intuition into verifiable argumentation that can at least poke preliminary holes in the massive greenwashing campaign of the nuclear industry. I did read an article today however, that gives me reason to keep tredging forward. This piece points to the extensive time it would take to build the kind of energy system around nuclear power being proposed by the industry and its spokespeople like Patrick Moore. The assertion being made to sell nuke power is that it is the only solution to our global warming crisis. Well, according to this article that solution is decades away. Thus, it seems appropriate to suspect that we can view this claim as nothing other than the marketing of a fantasy in the form of a reality--a coy way to appropriate the Gore movement to bolster, what has been a dying industry. Also, this article talks again about safety and provides several examples of why we should distrust the safety of plants we have now and apply that distrust to the future. This is a serious point folks. Nuclear power has had some tremendously terrible environmental impacts, and has often failed to meet regulatory standards. I will be back later with a more philosophical discussion of nukes Promethean implications.

BABY LYDIA AND MAMA GO HOME TODAY!

My friend Erika, who I visited in Tucson, had her gorgeous baby girl Lydia Marie Colombi on 4/24/08! They are headed home today. Check out these pics of this lovely family! ALL THE BEST TO THE COLOMBI FAMILY AS THEY WELCOME THEIR NEW ADDITION!

Weekend with my boys.

I am here, spinning, floating, spiraling downward up and around. Twisted and weighted at times. Struck by intense heats and cold at others. The children journey through this with me. I manage to provide food, play, transport, and in general lived experience. But they are subject to my mood, my energy level, my preoccupations and some thankfully mutually satisfying obligations. So often I find myself searching in both places I occupy for me. And then I realize that this individualized conception has very nearly ceased to be--occupying a space the size of the thinnest wedge. Yet also there is the overlapping rainbow. The way I incorporate my being and my passion throughout interconnectedness of family and friends. Dancing to the drum, children play, and Canyon sleeps away. Offering care and support for friends and neighbors in their endeavors, savoring the experiences of childhood lived with our children. Sunshine, dirt, water, slides, and bikes. We hiked with Annie the Goat today. Ahhhh, my back aches from Canyon in the pack. I am rather small and he is, still small but also two and I didn't do well with River in the pack much past 18 months. Plus moving the rotatiller the day before with Justin. I can barely move. Lucky to go to Ryan Friday. Canyon has a rash. I told him tonight that we had an appointment with Ryan and he couldn't stop talking about it. "Ryan will help me feel better Mama. We go to Ryan's right now." Whoa, o.k., I think he hasn't been feeling well. I have lost serious touch at times with the kids eating and health. I know I should relax, but they do get sick when we don't have fresh almond milk, and focus on greens etc. I need to balance things out. River memorizes books like crazy. He has recited complex texts the last two nights. He doesn't read the words, he memorizes them after about 3 readings. I love seeing his face light up when he says magical sounding words like "myriad" from "Westlandia". It is just so nice to acknowledge the way he has grown and changed over the last 5 years. 5 years ago, I carried this big baby boy in my belly. I was so excited and for this last week, everything slowed way down. Still in classes, writing papers to the end. Then letting go. Traveling into the city to see the Matisse and Picasso exhibit in Queens. I squatted down in the galleries, making everyone nervous--drinking in the art and history of these two talents. My am I glad I went. Waiting in Penn station to return to Jersey. My mother was scandalized by my wide-leggedness. Leila laughed. We got on the train and learned of lightning in New Brunswick from Charlie on the cell. And I knew the baby would come. So he did, about 16 hours after I got off that train. So good to see Matisse and Picasso, to walk 32 blocks in NYC and move my baby out. A man in the subway tunnel exuberantly declared to me as we passed, "Ma'am you're having a boy!" I found out that he was correct very shortly thereafter. Right, Just Write. So anyways, there was more I am sure. But this is where I am for now. Having enjoyed the trials and jubiliations of a weekend with my boys.

Found the Sign

That didn't take too much travelling. The Journey was realtively (I am going to start using this word instead of "relatively" because I think it better expresses what I mean) quick I would say. There is no epiphone here. Just a return to the 2 main points. -NUCLEAR WASTE from past production has not been properly disposed of. Waste is leaking into the Snake River Aquifer and has contaminated large quantities of groundwater outside of Hanford in Eastern Washington state. There should not be new plants until a concerted effort has been made to clean-up this waste, and the integrity of the planned mechanism of waste disposal is deemed environmentally ethical. -NUCLER POWER is Linked to Nuclear Defense. This fact is undeniable. As the rate of proposals for nuclear plants has gone up, so has nuclear defense budgeting. But Please Don't Just Take My Word For It. This is the sign. Did we forget there was a reason we shut down the production of new nuclear power plants for 3 decades? This is a re-marketing campaign. Yes, nuclear power holds tremendous capacity for large scale energy production. But our capacity to deal with the consequences of that potential have not been proven to have caught up. Until then, it behooves us to look at more democratically structured power grid models like the renewables. If we do not prioritize these things they will not realize their potential and the consequences of investing here have far greater benefits than risks. No waste that is. Oh, and windmills are not also used as military weapons.

So I found the Story

I found the book with the fable. Turns out it is about fuel (Irony). The person on the bus sees a sign that says "No Gas for 500 miles" when they alert the driver and the other passengers everyone laughs and ignores her. She walks for two hours until she finds the sign. Then, "I saw a barefoot man standing on the road. Smiling, he asked, "Did you get off the bus? Me too. I'm so glad to see you. I've been walking for fourteen days already. You are the first one I've seen since then." I was surprised that he didn't look tired or depressed. In fact, he looked happy and refreshed. I told him about my blisters, and how I was tired and hungry. Instead of sympathy, the man began to tell me his story. He said that he had begun to really enjoy walking. He said, everybody would have to get off the bus" -Igor Boutenko I guess I should start looking for the sign.

A RAMBLING FABLE WITHOUT A MORAL

There is this fable I once heard applied to a topic which I will not name. A person is on a bus. Suddenly she realizes that the bus is going the wrong direction and she alerts everyone to this fact. No one believes her assertion. So she insists on getting off the bus. She starts walking the way she knows is right. All the signs say she is going the wrong way, but she perseveres, she keeps walking... I don't remember how it ends. Really, I don't remember if she reaches her destination, the bus goes off a cliff, or she rots en route. But I do know that feeling. The feeling that something is not right and everyone thinks it is. There are plenty historical examples of movements forming around misguided assumptions, of people refusing to go with the tide, or not refusing to. These are moments that retrospectively we often cannot fathom what people were thinking, why didn't someone say something, or why didn't anyone listen? I cannot explain why, but this is how I feel about the new widespread belief that nuclear power is the solution for our energy needs. The idea of building hundreds of nuclear plants over the next hundred years is one of those notions that just doesn't sit right with me. Now, my intuition has certainly been wrong before. I tend to muddle things up with the hard-headed spirit I was born with. But it is the same feeling I get at the thought of immunizing my children. It is certainly what keeps me away from highly processed food, and makes me suspicious of anti-depressants. What is that? Fear of the unnatural? Maybe, I guess that is the trend in my guiding force. Also, distrust of our government. But it is more than that. It's almost like a vibrational analysis. A color, a ringing, a tone, that cues me in. The information is mixed, scattered, displaced, but still readable. There is a big NO sensation around nuclear power. Every part of me leans away. I am not a scientist even though sometimes I wish I was so I could masquerade these sensations as verifiable fact. There is no way that I think anyone should buy my argument just because its a feeling I have...that would be silly. But I really do have that feeling and it is what I have to follow. I started this blog to talk about pathways. I know we all have multiple paths to choose, as individuals and in our chosen and not chosen collective communities. Within the collective, it is so easy to jump on board the nuclear renaissance. To feel the closeness and quantity of folks around sharing this view. Ahhhh...the answer...we have found it. Everyone is smiling, the bus is pulling out. Get me off this path. I would rather walk alone than ride here. Nuclear Power is a mesmerizing technology derived from visionary experimentation. In current hands and contexts the idea of it as our main source of power is lacking the capability for the appropriate application of that vision.

CATCH A FIRE

No, it has not taken me so long to write due to the PA results. Despite all indications (and my initial desire) I have not been hiding under the bed in a fetal position. I am only slightly embarrassed by my blind faith in his ability to win the state. My realization that he would not win Pennsylvania came in stages: STAGE 1: I am at my sister's house to celebrate my nephews birth. (He's 7). We both keep returning to her computer and pressing "refresh" on the CNN page. Nothing, nothing, nothing. My brother-in-law soon calls, "They called it! Clinton takes Pennsylvania!" " She what? What percentage of the vote is reporting?" "Eight-percent!" Now I am at the computer staring hopelessly at the check mark next to Clinton's name. "Eight-percent?!" What the?! Are you kidding me?!" My voice has raised in level significantly "How can they call it at 8%?!" What are you thinking?!" I yell at the helpless computer screen. "Lizzy", my sister says calmly..."they can't hear you." STAGE 2: It is after dance now, we just had a session of dancing blind-folded for 20 minutes. It was thrilling and liberating at the same time it was disorienting and confining. I am assured that my assertions around the lack of voyeurism in African Dance have now been taken to their highest level. I am magnetized to the drums. Then a vision comes: Obama is rising, Clinton leans off to the side, her face smiling, her arms open and generous, he beams. STAGE 3: We leave the building. My friend Becky gets in her car while I chat with a fellow dancer in the twilight. "Clinton is giving her victoy speech" she says as she backs out of her spot. I put my fingers in my years, mimmicking the behavior of the 5-year-old boys we both have. "I can't hear you, la la la" I say. We laugh, cause it feels better than crying. STAGE 4. I am home now, getting boys to bath and bed. NPR is blaring. Obama's speech is coming. Now. I stand in the kitchen waiting. Holding my breath. What will he say? The crowd is roaring. He is there. He begins to speak. I am doing dishes, putsing around. Next thing I know I am on my knees in the living-room. My jaw has dropped. He is not attacking Clinton, he is not (just) laying the groundwork for the next states. He is not talking about himself. He is talking about the country. He is naming the terminal state of our current context. He is talking, again about urgency. He is pointing to this moment. And the finger does not then move to himself. I imagine his hands opening to all of us. He is telling the people to act, he is asking them to make a difference. He is calling to the grass-roots. This political moment is seized, not for victory, but for a call to action, a call to rise beyond petty games, to take a serious look, to find a pathway forward. The children are dripping wet. Pajamas go on right next to the speakers. Listen, I whisper. It's Obama. This is important. Canyon stops fussing. "OBAMA" he chants. And the boys tune-in they hear these words of empowerment. We did not lose, we can't lose in a context where the politics have become about a movement and not just one man. I no longer feel defeated. Why should I? He certainly doesn't sound defeated, he sounds diligent, he sounds determined. Hope needs challenge, challenge requires endurance. Suddenly my hope is magnified, like the sunlight through a looking glass it has sparked, ignited, I see it catch, FIRE.

Hope Applied and Sent all the Way to PA

Well, today could be the day. And I am applying the hope I hold to the primary in PA. I love Pennsylvania, it is a great East Coast state. It is unique for the diversity it contains in terms of geographical spaces and multiplicities of subject positions. The western part of the state is split between working class blue-collar mindsets and wealthy developers and business folks. The center reaches to the margins of each of the east/west continuums. Little communities of agriculture and industry. Of course, I love Philly. A city of history so rich you can taste it in the coffee. Diversity is the defining feature of this city, and I believe that bodes well for Obama. I remember the morning in November of 2004 when I bundled River up and we walked just two blocks south to vote for John Kerry. I see myself there today. Casting a vote for Obama. I remain hopeful that the people I knew in my time there are indicative of the larger populous (intelligent, progressive, savvy of the media exploitation of political systems). I can see the students at U Penn and Temple University spurring a movement, a wave of young people stepping out of the margins and defying the polls, voting for change and transformation. I hold this hope and send it all the way to my sister-in-law who will catch it and apply it. Tomorrow we will see. Today I envision the vote, I see the decisive action that will give us Obama as the Democratic Nominee and next President of the United States.

--MY ARCHITECTURE OF HOPE-- I have been pondering over the last post I wrote. I feel like I left it in a half-roll-over. What is it about dancing that becomes the glue of my hope? How can that be the answer that sustains me as I stare into the abyss of apathy and cynicism? There are 2 ways I am answering this question (for myself this is still in process).

1. As usual, I go to my roots, the theories that have informed my praxis. If I take a "postmodern" look at the message that we all are being duped by an overarching power system and have no ability to change that macro-context which overlays all of our lives, then I remember that to attribute such consciousness to dominant systems of power which seem to have a monotonous mindset and homogenous method of execution which is based on misinformation and exclusion in order to secure interests most often tied to resource acquirement in the form of monetary gain is a tragic distortion which only further contributes to my disempowerment. In other words, "Why go there?" Why not see these systems for what they are? A series of bureaucratic results and effects that have been manipulated and misused, but nevertheless remain maleable? I get why folks see the system as impenetrable, I get the suspicion. Sometimes I worry about this. I worry that I am wrong, it is a twisted web that has wrapped around everything. But there is still energy in me, I am not completely trapped. Perhaps my mind is poisoned to some degree. I am also an automotron. But too, I have moments of clarity and action, I shift my consciousness, I watch lights go on in others. There is still a pulse here. That means there is still room for network (s) to be reconfigured. There is no way that in this society of excessive production, especially in terms of new cyber spaces, and old sustainable gardens, that we cannot find places for transformative work (s). We must find places for transformative works.
2. Dancing. I have written before about transcendence and immanence. How that dichotomy traps us in a relation to the "body" that sees it as distinct from the mind. Dancing is the most wholistic place I have found for the synthesis of this dichotomy. There is story, there is movement, there is feeling-- both emotive and corporeal--and that feeling spreads to the "audience." Especially in African Dance, the voyeurism of "watching" is lost. You cannot help but tap you toes, feel your hips sway, notice the way your heartbeat is part of the orchestra. And so in that wholism, I am "beyond" the stickiest parts of the web. Dare I say I am free, and in that freedom , I show others their own? From here we have platforms. We have plaster. We have a foundation. From here we can create shifts.

These, I suppose, are the architectural components of my hope. I like this better than sitting at the bottom of the fracture. My survival instinct requires finding the pathway, whether up, around, or through that leads away from the abyss.

STORY OF A SUDDEN CLASH

I got in an argument while tabling today.  Actually, I tabled yesterday, but had a volunteer today, and as soon as I showed up to pack our stuff, I started talking to this gentleman about power sources.  He shared his view that coal should remain the source of fuel in West Virginia, and I concurred.  He talked about the vagaries of nuclear power, and I concurred.  He critiqued hydroelectric, and natural gas.  Again, I enthusiastically concurred.

Then, the conversation turned.  We started talking presidential politics, I don't remember how we bridged there, but he said he was voting for..."McCain"  and I said "What?  Why?"  and he said

"Cuz I'm not gonna vote for a nigger or a chick"

At which point, I moved behind the table and said I couldn't talk to him any longer. (Probably should have kept my cool a bit more.  In college, I had a friend who made posters that said "CONFRONT YOUR RACIST ATTITUDES" and plastered them across campus.  I always think of that, and I know I have racist attitudes, but I try to recognize them, and change them.  I was super surprised by his sudden shift in vernacular.  I really felt like he had done a "violence" to  all of us.  One that could not be tolerated.  I created a boundary, perhaps a bit of an overreaction but it was instantaneous).

He got mad, I think he called me a bitch.  Said I was judging him for his words, and couldn't handle a disagreement.  I explained that I thought his word choice was over the top racist and sexist.  He basically said that was stupid, that words have power and they should be used.  He said the president is the King and that a woman can't be president and that a black man will get killed by someone in Mississippi if he becomes president.  I said it was ridiculous to let fear of someone getting killed stop you from voting for them.  He said he wasn't afraid of that, but that it is what would happen.  Said the democrats should get a real candidate.

I said I disagreed.  That I couldn't get up in the morning if I viewed the world that way.  I asked if he'd seen Obama's speeches.  He laughed and hissed "SPEECHES!" other people write their speeches!  Come on!"

And then there was the gap, the rift, the crevasse...What if he's right?  What if this is a manufactured scam?  What if I don't really matter, if he doesn't really matter?  What if we don't have any 'power'?"

He walked away shaking his head.  

I asked my volunteer what he thought (after requesting he not mention the exchange to my boss).  He said he thought the guy was ignorant, but that a lot of people feel that way about a electing a black man or a woman".  So does that mean its not them who are ignorant, but rather, it's me?"

I got up and danced.  I felt the rhythm and the joy.  So maybe that is where my hope comes from.  Maybe it is naive.  But it keeps me goin'.

Beware of Idaho's "Nomad" Nuclear Plant! Alternative Energy Holdings Inc. is an out-of-state venture bent on building a merchant nuclear power plant somewhere in Idaho. Only thing is, there is no telling where. For months AEHI, who owns Idaho Energy Complex, has been selling their plan to build a plant in Owyhee County. After assuring lawmakers, business people, and the citizens of Owyhee County that the plant was perfectly-suited for the chosen site they changed their minds and announced on April 4th their intentions to move the plant 15 miles up the Snake Rver into Elmore County. The 1,400 acre site they have identified in Elmore County is on the north shore of the Snake River, and very close to Mountain Home Air Force Base. A merchant plant sells the power it produces to buyers outside of the state in which it resides. This means that Idahoans will be providing the land and water for a nuclear power plant, but the state will receive very few benefits. There are no guarantees that high-paying jobs will go to Idahoans. There are no guarantees that AEHI has the economic, or legal legitimacy to support the plant long-term. There is a guarantee, that if this plant is built and operates in Idaho, the nuclear waste will be produced and stay in Idaho. Nuclear power is not green and it is not clean. We live in a beautiful state, and our rivers are the life-blood of our economy, our recreational opportunities, and our souls. But it's more than that. This land is old and wise. We live on it, but it is not our property. These rivers flow via forces that are much more ancient than the humans who devised nuclear power. We must say no to supposed solutions that are really just creating greater problems. In rivers across the country, that have served the interests of nuclear power plants, the water table has dropped significantly every year. That's because nuclear power plants, even "dry" plants require water to cool the heat generated through nuclear production. Isn't this clear? Why would we need power if we have no water? No water, we die. To even consider this plant is absurd. All the risks, for what?-to sell power out-of-state, while we hold the waste? There are already 750,000 barrels of nuclear waste sitting only 600 feet above the Snake River Aquifer--and they are leaking. Please. Tell everyone you know about this. Now is a key moment for Idahoans to find their voice, and send a clear message that we will not be the national locale for Nuclear Production. If we do not even allow ourselves to see the possibilities of renewable energy like wind and geo-thermal, we will never transform the frame of our energy apparatus. If we have no alternative vision that is truly clean and green we will continue to be mired in untenable "solutions". Change, requires vision and commitment--we are selling our vision short with nuclear power.

--JUST WRITE IT OUT--

WHEN ALL ELSE FAILS

Did I mention that my first real task at my new job is basically requiring the skills of a graphic designer--which I am not?

It's not that bad, actually, content is also critical to the project.  But I want my content to be appealing to the eye and darn it if I just can't figure out how to make it look good!  Finally, our nuclear symbol transformed into a flower is a bullet-point for the display board posters.  That was quite an accomplishment--But printing the sections out to larger sizes is tweaking me out...and I know I could do so much more with the right tools.

At the same moment--maybe people will read the text if they aren't distracted by fluffy graphics.  Unless they serve a pedagogical purpose--there is not a reason for graphics.  And, I have always been textually oriented.  In college, I never used power point for presentations.  I have always educated via spoken word, using very few visual examples.  Maybe I need to change, maybe not.

The Board is separated into three parts.  The middle-panel is the center-piece.  It holds the Mission of SRA, pictures of members, and a Please Join section.  Stage left is the "Nuclear Power is Not Green and Clean"  Then Why Do We Need a Watchdog, then the two proposed developments, and ways "You Can Act."  Stage right is the "Idaho Has Renewable Potential"  One big explanation of all the renewables, picture of windmills, and a map of Idaho's renewable sources:  Geothermal, Solar, Bio-mass, Wind.  That's it.  Whew!  

It's the gauntlet, there always is one at the beginning of a job.  So little air down there too.  No sunlight.  Lucky for music and a door to close for giggling and groaning while I work.

JOY IS WHAT SHE GIVES...LOVE IS HOW SHE LIVES

That is the quote used to describe my godmother:  Jackie.

Today, April 16th is her birthday.  

Jackie is my friend Anne's mom.  Anne and I have played together since she was two-months old and I was just born.  Our families were always together growing up.

One time, I was about 4. 

Their (Jackie's and the rest of the Gibson's) house is an old-school house out Boise Ave.  I remember sitting at the dining table, the big windows let the light in.  Jackie gave us painting materials.  I painted a person, all the parts.  But then, I plopped a bunch of yellow on the face.  I didn't like it--I knew it was a mistake.  Jackie said "Oh its beautiful, its just the sunlight shining on her face!"  That picture is framed and in my children's room.  I still remember the sensation of her positivity.

Jackie passed a bit over two years ago now.  I miss Anne, since she lives in San Diego. But I get to see her sisters, and sometimes I drive by the house.  Jackie is, like I have experienced before, still very much a part of all of our lives.  Those of us who shared moments with her are still affected by those moments.  

She did the blessing of rocks at River's birth celebration.  I am so glad.

So on this day, I honor Jacqueline Sue Gibson.  She really did Love Life and Give Joy.

A Bay A(i)rea Moment: This time, as the plane descends, I respond to the view of the water with a sharp intake of breath. My heart beat quickens. Oakland, this more northerly bay. The site of my utopian dreams and distopian nightmares. It is not yet time for me to be here. But why can't I breathe? What has happened? When I return home, I am asked how I feel about all the "drama" between Clinton and Obama. "What's new?" I say. I have been on vacation remember. Obama's comments in San Fransisco were nothing other than the brilliant articulation of the process and effects of the complete alienation of the working-class from any sense of political agency. I commend him for his ability to disentangle the experiences of these folks and point to the reasons for the prevalence of religion and defense. It is a cultural ill. As Marx said in "On the Jewish Question" religion is the opium of the people. And, I would add, defense is the perverse paradigm of our time. We will never change this society if we ask god to do it for us, and we ask god as a way of not doing it for ourselves, and we fail to do it for ourselves, because our historical experiences points to failure in meeting our needs whenever we self-affirm our lives. Now, Obama would not benefit from my interpretation of what he said. Too academic (a.k.a elite) right? But, it did affirm for me that we have a candidate who has deeply considered the state of citizens in this country. That assures me he knows the topography enough to make real change on the political map. That is what his opponents are so afraid of. They know he is right and, unlike them, is courageous enough to speak the truth. One more thing. I stomped my foot hard when I finally saw the footage of Hilary chastising him. (and I see racism at play big time here...the black man has spoken too clearly, too loudly...time for a lynching)--still sorting through how this observation may contradict with my other post below. What is she doing! You can smell the rot of her desperation. It is time to leave. I'm all for democracy, but the stakes are too high and the people have spoken, and I distrust the notion that she has as much support as Obama. That is a media fabrication. OUT ALREADY!

FEMINIST LESSON #1 There are different kinds of feminism. Over the cycle of the election between Obama and Clinton feminists have been referred to countless times. There have been myriad assertions regarding what it means to be a feminist, how feminists feel about Hilary, and what feminists are saying about her treatment as a candidate. Feminists have become (yet again) a coagulated group--the distinctions between schools and histories of feminism gone by the wayside. Lucky for you, I am a "master and artist" of feminism. No, this is not a joke, I have an MA in Women's and Gender Studies. I was on my way to receiving my doctorate in this field before I got so troubled by the practice of academic feminism within the frame of a complex theoretical apparatus bent on progressive activism and the subsequent painful contradiction of these two things, that I ran like my hair was on fire far away. I am not giving this background to brag, by the way. Believe me, if anything my feminist training is something I have learned to hide as the thickness of my skin has decreased. But, it is time for a quick lesson in feminism. Please see this site for a layout of the multiple types of feminism. Like most history, they are described within a linear progression (although some effort is made to show overlaps). But let me give the basics. Liberal feminism is one of the first manifestations. The tenet: Women are equal to men and should be treated as such. Folks like Betty Friedan in the early 60's made this assertion. NOW is a direct descendant of this feminist approach. Radical Feminism has its roots in Marxism. The tenet: It's not the workers--it's the women who will cause the revolution. Part of that revolution includes the disintegration of heterosexism. Lots of lesbian feminists work from here. The revolution will include the elimination of reproductive sex. The re-working of sexual relations(via a revolution similar to the one Marx identified for work relations) is the way to transform women's social position. Then, we have cultural feminists. The tenet: Create a culture of women--valorize femininity, valorize sex between women, valorize pregnancy and birth. Valorize anything and everything woman oriented. VALUE WOMEN. Then, there are eco-feminists, marxist feminists, psychoanalytic feminists....it goes on and on. I would challenge you to locate the kind of feminism being asserted in defense of Hilary's candidacy. It seems to me that if anything, we are seeing liberal feminism: Get a woman into an office normally held by a man. WE WIN. My feminism? Well, I'm a Marxist, but I am also a post-modern thinker. So I combine a lot of things to articulate what feminism means to me. Yes, sexual relations create cultural paradigms that lead to discourses of femininity that explain the oppression of "women". BUT ALSO--and this is critical--SEX IS DESCRIPTIVE --GENDER IS CULTURALLY DETERMINED. In other words, there is no such thing as "woman." There are female sexes, male sexes, and multiple combinations of the two, identifiable through which set of sexed body parts one has(There are at least 5 sexes) . "Woman" is cultural artifice. So, feminism is not about advocating for one gender over the other. That premise (most visible in the assertion that women or feminists should by default support Clinton) is based on a culturally constructed, and thus problematic set of assumptions. (If we are calling into question culture as patriarchal, how can we adopt the constructed version of woman it has presented us with?) Thus, feminism is a perspective. A praxis (the link of theory and action). To be a feminist is to: Recognize the need for social transformation in all aspects of the cultural locales (or hot points) where oppression (of any kind) takes place. Subjugation based on race, gender, socio-economic status, sexual orientation etc. becomes feminist work. As a matter of fact, I view the feminist frame, as on par, only with environmentalism as a philosophical approach that can encompass the multi-faceted aspects of a call to revolution that we need to upset the insidious and overt discourses that lead to any type of marginalization of a people for the interests of a few. Capitalism, patriarchy, racism. These are institutions that must be undone. Feminists work towards actions that will result in the progressive de-stabilization of these paradigms, and move towards open possibilities for a different future. As a feminist, as I have stated before, I support Barack Obama as the feminist candidate. Of course gender is at play in this contest. Of course race is at play, and of course class is at play. Oh, and sexual orientation, and religious affiliation. All of those cultural discourses are important. But as a feminist I look for the candidate that attempts to resolve and transcend those discourses that shut-down possibilities and create further divisions. Name them, change them. Do not sit with them and propagate them, and allow a cultural paradigm of dualism to determine your choice of candidates! As a feminist, I vote for the person who is willing to talk openly about all of these issues and then tell me a vision for the future that, while not creating homogenized unity, will still allow for hybrid combinations of subjectivity without the confines of static identity. To say that, as a woman, I must support the female candidate makes sense in terms of a historical shift. Yet it is just as impactfull, from my feminist perspective, to have an African-American president. Especially, since the female candidate remains committed to social networks mired in practices of marginalization. To assert otherwise is to discipline feminism with the patriarchal frame it claims to oppose. Barack Obama has proven his commitment to peace, resolving race relations, calling into question economic exploitation, and involving citizens in true democratic practices through the elimination of special interests. LOOKS LIKE FEMINISM TO ME.

"Life is not some grand destination, but just the road you're on and the fact that you know how to drive"

-Barbara Kingsolver, ANIMAL DREAMS

There is certainly something about being in the Southwest.  Maybe it's the tremendous amount of sunshine folks here get.  During my short-time in Tuscon I am reminded of the inspirations provided by this desert landscape.  From Edward Abbey (writing about Southern Utah to Barbara Kingsolver (who has set both fictional and non-fictional accounts near Tucson) great forms of creative exploration come from these landscapes.

In high school, I read Kingsolver's ANIMAL DREAMS.  The plight of Cody and her sister Hallie have remained within close proximity of the way I interpret the world ever since.  I have read the book twice more, both at critical junctures in my life and they continue to provide insights and guidance that I still utilize.  When I descended into Tucson, the image of flight, so prevalent in Cody's personal transformations (from the birds on Native Reservations bringing her signs of Hallie's passing to the south in Nicaragua) to the plane that brings her back, takes her away, and then returns her, struck me again.  It is so special to step into a story by tracing the geographical spaces of its manifestations.  

I have found multiple inspirations on this trip.  Saguaro National Park, with blooming prickly pears and tall, strong, resilient Saguaro Cacti is a marvel for eyes accustomed to intermountain pine forests.  Life adapted to conditions that seem untenable requires protective mechanisms.  The mountains surrounding this elevated plateau call to me.  The Catalinas are sky-reaching formations that insist upon my entrance.  To climb by foot and not machine.

There are two specific experiences of significant note regarding my trip that I would like to share.

The first is the community I am staying in.  My friend Erika and her family relocated to the Tucson area from the Northwest when her husband got a tenure track position at the U of A. They were thrilled to find a community that fit their ideals of environmentalism, and created a space for their children and selves to feel a strong sense of place and purpose.

Tucson, and many other states in the southern part of the country, seem absolutely unreasonably suited for human habitation.  Phoenix, is a case in point.  The green is artificially constructed via the exportation (exploitation) of rivers to the North.  Water wars have already begun to flare to more easterly states.  We often forget the ways this land was also affected by colonization and the shifted relationship to the land which led to the damning of the rivers.

Yet within the paradoxes of desert living there are communities that are working towards maximizing implicit resources while minimizing excessive extraction of scarce resources.

Civano is one of those communities.  Civano is a Hokohum word for living in balance with nature.  The Hokohum civilization predates the Hopi and was considered a golden age of harmony and balance.  This present day community links its ideals to this ancient paradigmatic example through:

• establishing a sense of place and community connected to nature
• treading lightly
• committing to the goal of sustainability.

In my short time here, I have felt these ideals embodied in the structures, landscape, and people.  It just feels good here.  And although this ancient land is stil not happy to have so many humans on it, it is much better off than if this were a neo-traditional development of big homes and unsustainable gardens.  This community has water catchers, a small organic garden, solar panels, and many other features that tie sustainable living into a reasonable day-to-day practice.  Not only is it cool to be green, but it is a convenient and mutually beneficial practice.  Not to mention that the homes are affordable.

I love it here.  At some point in my life I would like to live here myself.  The inspiration is palpable.  And a part of me feels so at home--the rocks speak in whispers--but I can still hear them.  I want time to speak back.

The second experience I had here was moving and profound.  A friend of Erika's started a non- profit called "Beads of Courage."  The mission of this organization is to provide arts-based-medicine to children coping with serious illness.  For each aspect of their treatment they thread a bead of courage on a string.  These beads are donated from artists all over the country, and the cumulative creations are astoundingly beautiful and have had the measurable effects of reducing stress and increasing healing.  We heard from some of the families affected by the program and their stories were heartening.  We also chose beads and made beautiful, unique bracelets to take with us.  (The picture above is Erika and I wearing our creations)  I enjoyed the process a great deal and can see how it would be incredilby beneficial as part of a program of wholistic healing. It is inspiring (to say the least) to see how one woman can step outside of herself and the immediate needs of her family to create an organization that gives life and love to so many others.  

The sun shines here more.

Is that why everyone seems so happy? 

 I am putting this sunshine in my pocket, the one connected to my heart.  

May it shine brightly in my life and the lives of those I love.

And radiate beyond my immediate circle to connect me to the rest.

Rays of love.

YEMAYA

YEMAYA

YEMAYA

Bless you expanding sea.

Mother of the ocean.

There I was, unexpectedly.

Los Angeles.  I get to see the ocean!  

Let me out of this thing.  I want to go down there!  Just, please, my toes in the water at the least!

Not safe to jump.  Can't break this window anyways.  Just look.

Yemaya, yemaya, yemaya.  

Goddess of the ocean.  Pulsing, pushing, currents flowing round and through.

Lift, Turn, away.

And now below a sea of white and sand.  Desert.  Mysteries hidden, pathways ready to be blown, erased, reimagined.

DATELINE RENO, NEVADA

I have done it.  Taken off, flown away.  Alone.  Here I am--in the Reno airport.  I have managed to find a rather nice rocking chair among gentleman in business suits, staring at a wooden bear and its cub, in front of fake trees.  Under, of course, a sparkling neon pink sign for the El Dorado Hotel and Casino.

I have not flown by myself for a long time.  It feels like the last time was when we returned from Colorado, right before River turned two.  The boys flew out of Hayden, I drove to Denver. Strange re-entry into Philly grading papers furiously as I fly cross-continental.

No, wait, there was that time in southern California, for Megan's bachelorette, just after we moved to Boise.  I had a glorious two days with the gals, and beach.  Last afternoon on my own cycling up and down a tiny edge of the continent.  By the time I got on the plane home, my equilibrium was off-pulled unusually by the tide.  By the next evening I figured out I was pregnant.  That was the last time I flew alone, for sure.

So heading South.  Oh, how I long to keep going!  So close to Mexico.  Just a bit further and I have crossed, made it, back.

We started driving at the end of September.  Heading to Utah and the unusual land formations of Goblin Valley.  Hitting the Southern Utah parks--Escalante, Zion.  Traveling along drying rivers.  Then, was the Grand Canyon next?  The coldest night in the tent by far.  The deep abyss--there is the Colorado.--all the way down here.  The lines of tourists.  Us, thinking we were somehow outside of that.  Still looking for an outside.  Then driving further.  "I wish we could just find a little oasis somewhere.  Clean, comfy, a pool.

Next thing we know, just north of Phoenix appears Arcosante.  A little oasis.  Clean, comfy, a pool.  Cheap.  Bells.  Rest.

We are closer now.  We could just drive there right?  All the way through Copper Canyon.  When would we arrive in Oaxaca?  Would we arrive in Oaxaca?

 Then, Tucson and Blaise.  Of course, Blaise.  And packing, and panickng.  And Departure.  By plane now.  The car left behind at Blaise's parent's house.  His parents.  Should I have tried to see them again on this trip?

The return to Tucson 3 months later--spit out.  Broke, disillusioned and inspired all at the same time.  

Those deep brown Angelito eyes.  Struggling to see.

Do you know what we saw in Chiapas?  

Cenote.  Cool and deep.  

Cracks already in the fissures.  Heading up North now.  Snow on the high-dessert above Flagstaff.  Lake Powell. 

To Erika today.  Dear friend.  Dancing delight.  Since we were just teeny ballerinas.  Dance camp summers of total silliness and boys and bathing suits and tip toes.

We both had babies.  Together.  I call to tell her I am getting married and having a baby and she is having a baby.  And we have our first boys just 2 months apart.  The exact amount apart in reverse as between me and her. And then she is pregnant.  And not me.  No way.  And then not and then I am and she is and we are.  Again, the kids five months apart this time and of opposite genders.  And then she is again, and me NO WAY.  And then, I am and we are, and then.  I'm not.  And she is there--the first one and stays there and lets me cry and tells me she understands and its o.k.

So now, this baby is coming.  This little Lydia.  So, here I am.  We are together in this still. 

To Tucson.

The Snake River Alliance. What do I find when I come to the Snake River Alliance? I find a dedicated staff:

• Brilliantly articulating the status of the AEHI nuclear plant which just shifted its proposed site to Elmore County (near Mountain Home)

• Passionately advocating on behalf of the cause to efficiently protect and increase the donation base of the Alliance

• A director holding the reigns on a powerful advocacy machine. Balancing a staff, a board, a coalition, and a constituency.

Thankfully, all of these folks are here to deal with the "Issue". In this instance, that issue is a multi-pronged set of issues within the context of Nuclear frames. Opposing proposed nuclear power plants in the state, fighting for the clean-up of hazardous waste, promoting alternative energy ideas and advocating for the implementation of substantive policy proposals. But yesterday I learned something new. A new term, that the newness of reveals my naivete with nuclear issues. DOWNWINDERS. "Who are the downwinders? Downwinders, in general, refers to those affected by nuclear fallout which has been carried by the winds 'downwind'. Downwinders of the Nevada Test Site (NTS) were those affected by fallout carried east or northeast from the NTS during the 1950's and 1960's. The tests were conducted when the winds blew in these directions so that more densely populated areas to the south and west of the NTS would be spared the fallout. The National Cancer Institute identified Idaho as one of five western states with the highest per capita thyroid doses of iodine." Iodine-131 is a radioactive isotope released during the production and testing of nuclear weapons. Contamination was spread via the isotopes dispersing through nuclear fallout and depositing dry or wet (due to atmospheric integration) onto a large geographical area. Are you ready for this? The isotopes were on the pasture grass that dairy cows ate. Their milk was contaminated. People drank the milk. Thyroid cancer is highly prevalent in those exposed. Between 11, 300 and 212,000 excess thyroid cancers. That is just an estimate. So another, perhaps the largest of the issues within the nuclear frame, is the issue of Weapons Testing, past, present, and future. Nuclear energy is fashioned as the clean energy source of the future. But it is also used as a destructive and threatening weapon, hoisted up as the key to our national security. The irony, the clean energy solution is fed and propagated by the defense industry. There is really no bright line here. If nuclear technology is nuclear technology the advancement of either or both is in the interest of defense, and in the disinterest of safety. Nuclear energy is not green or clean. The waste produced could never be considered either of those things. The potential threat of an accident is never tenable. So I cried. I just cried and cried. I cannot believe what our government allowed to happen with nuclear testing. It is outrageous! I spoke to my mother about this today. She said, "we live in a crazy, dangerous world." She remembers getting up high in Boise when the testing was happening in Nevada. All the kids in her little Boise neighborhood reaching a vantage point where they could see the amazing light from the tests. They had no idea. Our government has yet to acknowledge that they have an idea either. In 1990 the United States Senate passed The Radiation Exposure Compensation Act (RECA): "The law provides modest compensation to individuals exposed to radiation who meet certain criteria" (The Alliance for Nuclear Accountability). Ironically, the law does not include claimants in Idaho. Although legislation by Idaho Senators was presented last year to include Idaho, it has not moved forward. The Senators claim that there is isn't any funding for the program. Need I point out here, the obvious problematics of this given the amount of funding going to the war in Iraq and the defense industry in general? So, this is what I find at the Alliance. My challenge: learn to not cry every time I read about downwinders; become conversant in nuclear vocab and paradigms; communicate the information and need to all facets of our community; mobilize folks to oppose nuclear "solutions"; advocate for truly clean and green alternatives; effect policy change. Wow, that'll be a piece of (yellow) cake!

These boots are from San Miguel de Allende. When we lived in Guanajuato, a mythical city built among the hills of the west-central Mexican state of the same name, we traveled to San Miguel. The first trip by bus with the little River baby being the highlight of all the Mexican's ride. The second trip was by mini-van (no car seat, since such an item is a huge luxury and incredibly expensive to purchase), when my dad came to visit. San Miguel is the home of many ex-pats, and the topography is similar to the foothills around Boise, only more closely placed together. Horses in the zocolo, cathedrals, art museums, musical performances, libraries, and all different kinds of delicious and healthy food choices. My favorite--at the time--was the sweet rice porridge I could find early in the morning, when the mercado had just opened. Bells ring, dogs roam the street, the light hits the hillside. But these boots were not purchased on either of those trips. They were bought, by my mother on a later trip, for her feet. But they were too small, so now they are mine. And they are worn, and the beads are falling off, and there is a hole in the left toe. Last night, I was late to dance, work holding me in place through warm-up, a quick walk to the car left only 20 minutes to class. Yes, of course I went. These boots wanted me to. They walked me directly into the room, not even pausing for the normal removal so that my soles can touch the hard dance floor. Last night, these boots needed to dance. When I got home they were vibrating, shining, so happy to have moved to the rhythm with me. My heals are sore this morning, walking to work, through slush in these same boots. My soul is sore too. This shift and move, this place away from what I know. These boots are still with me. Until they are walked bare, they will remind me of San Miguel.

Material things become artifacts through disuse affected by the shifting of time and space.

A computer, at once a home, a safe place, goes black.  Dust settles, it is just a box.  Maybe even a piece of junk.

A name-tag, one day so critical for recognition and entry, immediately loses its import at the bottom of a purse.  No longer needed or appropriate since the symbology is now irrelevant.

A cell phone, defunct of batteries, becomes a toy or annoyance.  A reminder that something invested with such necessity is really only a luxury.

This blog, if I were to stop writing it, would occupy a small space of internet history, eventually, and promptly repetitious.  The contents overexposed, all the illusions and protections implicitly built into language open for even undiscerning eyes to lay revealed.  If I were to erase it, it would be extinguished.  Entirely dispersed and present only through its ties to the ideas it was drawn from.

A practice, if it is undone, certainly becomes a past.

Perhaps, there are two exceptions:  

1. The hug my child shares with me.  
2. Artistic materializations of lasting impact.

JOIN REPRESENTATIVE SUE CHEW FOR AN EARTH DAY RE-ELECTION KICK-OFF

WHEN:   Earth Day, April 20th, 2008

WHERE:  EDWARD'S GREENHOUSE JUST OFF HILL ROAD

WHAT TIME:  FROM 1-4 P.M.

WHY:  To support the re-election of a true grass-roots legislator: Representative Sue Chew of District 17 in Boise.  Come enjoy Live Drum and Dance, refreshments, local art auction, volunteer sign up, and issue oriented information sharing.  Get your Spring gardening transplants and help sow the seeds for Sue Chew's Re-election.

WHO:  YOU!  You do not have to live in the district to be involved.  If you are looking for a way to make a difference, link into the campaigns of change oriented candidates like Representative Sue Chew.

Sue Chew is running for Re-election as a state representative from District 17 which includes the Boise Bench and surrounding area.

She has spent two sessions in the legislature connecting with real folks who have an interest in the policies that affect their lives.

Representative Sue Chew has focused her energy on improving the conditions of the middle-class, strengthening and protecting our health care access, and working towards environmentally sound resource ethics in government.

Representative Chew has a history of volunteerism and leadership.  She has served on several boards of grass-roots community organizations, and as a licensed pharmacist, she has a significant background in the sciences and health care fields.  

Sue Chew also wants to listen to the voices of Idaho college students.  As an adjunct professor of biology at BSU, she understands the importance of listening to the concerns and new ideas circulating in student populations.

REPRESENTATIVE SUE CHEW

WORKING HARD   IN OUR COMMUNITY   ON ISSUES THAT MATTER

DISTILLATION

Requires patience and creates potency.

Today everything was distilled beautifully in the proceeding event.

Roosevelt Elementary, the school of my nephew Gabriel and mama ground of my sis Holly.  

Today we drummed and danced there.

If you, or anyone you know would be interested in an assembly drum and dance demonstration of West African rhythm, song and dance then please contact Faila Here.

O.k. these kids grooved on it hard-core.  Big time.  Moved and drummed--really well--lots of talent and support.  And it was very empowering for everyone involved to think of the intrinsic rhythm of their very own heart-beat.

Yeah.

My sister and Lily enjoyed it.  Trish and my boys were delighted.  It was a breath of refreshing release with a population of receptive interested individuals.  A moment of possibilities as of yet unexplored.  Of course Mr. Benjamin Pursley and Rachel Burke-Pursley (the combo) works so nicely together. And so the teachers within the teachers within the taught as the teachers as well.

I loved and embraced it and grooved to and through it.

The best.  Check it out.

Yo.

My lappa was purple.

THIS BLOG IS NOW DIGRESSING

BTW--The link is now functioning.

This state should be only momentary as I move through transition.

87 Days Later

Conference Committee:  Not a very common occurrence. IACI

Personal Property Tax.

Subtext moving through discourse.

Local Option--proposed constitutional amendment

It is part of a history now.  No longer in the present.  All moving.  Dispersing.  

 Listen to the history told with Don Wimberle talking to BSU Prof about This Legislative Session Here 

O.k. this is how my bag has changed in just one day.  Out comes the Times, and policy folders, and Campaign Handbooks, and in comes the diaper and wipes, baggies with snacks and library books way overdue.

My goodness.

I did not write while "at home" before. The slight platonic shift causes major tremors in me.  A crevasse I suppose.  Rupture.

Today I will seam these things together (I have been told I should use parachute thread for this).  The nearly impossible tasks of early a.m. dance, then park, and also the jersey between the hours of 10-1.   Maybe meet about D17 campaign.  But then, work and pack and too there are two parties.  One grow-up one not. 

Sola.

Yo Puedo

 

Printing, Printing.

Jet Lag of the Consciousness.  

It fits for so many instances.  Especially, travel abroad, and the effect upon return.  Like a part of you is still where you were.

It was so strange to find myself at River's school this morning singing: "Boop dop Deep dop Watch An Choo!"  While bopping my shoulders.  Canyon was like butter in my lap.  Melted into my body.  Every once in a while he would turn to say, "I love you mama."And this is the happy-hard part. The love, affection, deep , deep connection mixed in with this disjuncture, the tearing, and wr(a)ipping, splitting and disconnecting.

I cried this morning. Sobbed really.  Why don't I get to go to work?

All of that is gone.  Its over anyways.

I had to concentrate on breathing through the desire to jump in my car and race to the Annex.  Surely, SW needs his palm synced.  There are a few more letters to send for SK.

The crazy one, still walking up and down the stairs talking to herself.

But I took to the boys instead.  It was wonderful being at school together today.  All three of us played, and it was hard to leave River to take Canyon to music.  But we did. 

And music was pleasing.  Stretchy clothes and moving and singing together.  I found myself really slipping.

What have I been thinking?  Why am I not with my children?  Why do I feel this need to work?

And I am exhausted by the singing and dancing and swinging and general foolish fun behavior.  I can barely catch my breath.

What a joy.

But then, after a memorable lunch with dear BK and CK, I am ready to go to work.  Now.  I have more things to do.

So I go, and then I shift and it takes a few, but then, I can't leave.  Perpetual and active remembrance as I move-out.

O.K.  I was not present for Sine Die, and so I have the curse, my brain did not trigger "The End."

Hmmmmmm...

So sweet putting the boys to bath and food, and stories and bed, so soft falling asleep.  

Still want to work again tomorrow.  

This is a strange pendulum that I have yet to balance.  I swing to-and-fro.  

This is the Departure and Arrival.

Only the first leg of the journey.

That is all I want to write about.  For now.

And the eggs I cracked tonight.  Light green, brown, speckles.  Crack! And out, and SSSSSSSSSSSSS.

O.k.

Tonight I was looking for another "chapter book" to read to River.  We, gladly, finished "Way of Courage" or whatever, about Mia the raccoon last night.  This was a "gladly" situation because the book got a little weird at the end.  The farmer basically tortures animals.  But we had already gone so far, and River enjoys animals (although I am not sure he was that into the extent of creature personification occurring in this book).

I am looking, looking, we have finished a few series and actually we seem to have a limited supply of new chapter books.  Then, I see the "Complete Collection of Winnie the Pooh."  And I remember...

DEPARTURE

This Summer I was very courageous and brave as a mother.  After teaching a bit of bug curriculum in the garden, I had time off before the real "Bug Camp" started.  So, Charlie is working a lot, cannot miss work and is flying to Boston to help bro move.  Where do I want to be?  

Steamboat.

That is approximately 14 hours away.  And, Canyon is 1 1/2.  

Alone?

So we did.  We piled into the car, stellarly decked out with choice food items for ultimate nutrition and car pleasure snacking, the dual dvd player from my sisters friend, Jah (dog) in the front seat next to me, my usual (o.k. more than usual at current rates) relaxation encouragements, music, and a series of good luck adornments.

To SLC via 84 and TURN! (right)

We stopped once at Perkins and met up with the Paquettes (sister and clan of 3).  Weird, broccoli too buttered to eat.

So we all stretch and play and run through what will be a...potato field?

Maybe.  We run and stretch and play and then.

Drive.  All asleep, stay asleep.  Need gas.

Still asleep.  Drive, dark, tired.  No hotel, no rooms, no rooms, no rooms.

Still asleep.  

Park City?

Up the hill, big hill, mountain really--Wasatch.  Climbing the winding path.  I went to college with a couple that got in an accident on this road and she died.

So I am awake because of one man and one man only....that's right!  Ladies and Gentlemen, Mr. Johnnie Cash!

He did keep me rollin' amazing.

We arrive.  Asleep, still.

Check in and carry up one at a time, leaving one behind.  Then both in fluffy bed I go for bags and shower and breathe and they are still 

Asleep.

Wow.

In the a.m. pool trip and ceree and almond milk, vanilla bean and ice cold from the cooler.

And I have it together: the kids and car and we are happy and alive.

I take them to the outlet mall by the hotel and walk them to utter exhaustion.  

We go, we drive, they sleep.  Cross that red dessert.  Closer, now to Colorado.  Up through Vernal and then follow the Colorado River, gates of La Dore.  I remember the first time I drove this, young and alone, but so happy to be going, and I saw a rainbow and it was full of loveliness.  This is probably time # 22 on this road.  If not more.  Maybe on the way home I will take the back route.

They sleep and.  oh yeah.  Pooh...River watched Winnie the Pooh, over and over, and over again.

But I turned it off when we hit the Yampa River.  I rolled down all the windows, and blasted the Cash, and sang and Jah sat up.  Because he was born here and he remembers the smell and his mama.  The moon is full and rising.  I am glowing.  Sleeping Giant and that big, beautiful Colorado sky.  Happy.

We follow Elk River Road 11.1 miles North.  Turn at the barn with the green roof.  Down this road of memories.  And we are here.

"Boys, this is where you're from.  Your roots."

ARRIVAL

We read part of the first chapter.  You know, when Pooh tries to get the honey in the tree with C.R.'s balloon?  River loves that story.  Me too.

थिस इस माय देलेगते पोस्ट I am a feminist. I have spent a large part of my adult life learning about, and fighting for women’s issues. When I realized the Democratic Party would face a decision between the first woman nominee and the first African American nominee I was stunned into momentary indecision. I felt torn and confused. I was afraid it would tear our party apart to make such a choice. Moreover, I was not sure who I would choose. Over time I watched debates, read articles, investigated on the internet and paid close attention to candidates speeches. Suddenly the decision became obvious and undeniable to me. I am a feminist, and as a feminist the candidate that I support is Barack Obama. Feminism is not about gender. It is not limited in scope to sex. Feminism is about a perspective, it is about hearing those marginalized based on race, gender, class, and sexual orientation. It is about moving away from a place of privilege to a place of lived experience, and it is about a politics of transformation–of action not reaction. These ideals are encompassed in the Obama candidacy. For the first time in my political memory I feel inspired and hopeful. There has been a lot of talk about the pragmatism of Hilary Clinton–Now is not a time for a pragmatic reactive response that are caught in the same Bush-Clinton dialectic we have lived for the last 15 plus years. Now is the moment to embrace what seems immaterial, but is really the potential fuel for a new dawn in American Politics. I am a determined supporter of Barack Obama, I feel that we are at a juncture where we can shift the political landscape if we establish effective consensus. I am certain I will be able to establish that consensus at the State Convention. I understand the paradox we face, and having journeyed through it I know I can advocate for the choice that will bring real and meaningful change. My mother was a delegate to the national convention in 1972. She recently told me that she believes when we are most in need of real leadership it will rise up. She knew Barack Obama was coming. We have faced many years of disappointment and frustration. It is now time for the recognition that in Barack Obama we have the kind of visionary leadership we need at this critical political moment. This chance will not come again and I am determined to effectively affect this change in whatever way I can. Our party will not be torn apart. We can all come together and embody the ideals of a President Obama.