The opinion I am about to express will enrage many on all sides. I respect your right to disagree with my conclusions, but also ask that you make sure you have really considered why, and that your own disagreement is rooted in facts and solutions. If it is, I welcome the open and honest debate, because that is the only way we will ever change the things that most need changing.
In a little over 24 hours, this nation will have a new leader in charge. When Barack Obama takes the oath of office to become our 44th president, history will be made. It is impossible for me, on the day dedicated to celebrating the legacy of Martin Luther King, Jr., to ignore the symbolism and ironies involved in the inauguration to come tomorrow. As I sit here thinking about it all this morning, I really do have to wonder, did King really believe in his own dream that he sold to his followers, and in time, most of this nation?
Barack Obama will make his vow to protect and defend this nation on the steps of a building that was built by slaves. He and his family will take up residence in the White House, where just a few years ago the only black residents were servants of a master they could never have imagined would share the color of their skin. When King inspired his audience with his dream about seeing the mountaintop, I find it hard to imagine that he truly thought it would happen so soon, and that so many white people, especially our youth, would be there to help make it happen.
The legacy of King, a man imperfect as all humans are, has on occasion been sullied by his human foibles and failings. Everything from infidelity to plagiarism have been bandied about, and his own children are now in court fighting each other over the record that their parents have left behind. But in the final analysis, his contribution can not be tarnished, because without his dream, and his actions that backed it up, tomorrow would not have arrived so soon. And speaking as the parent of two children of mixed races, I am happy to know that they are now seeing a man much like themselves achieve what would have been unthinkable just a few short years ago, and their dreams will not be limited by something that is only skin deep.
So I have to ask myself - how are we honoring the legacy of a man who espoused hard work, education, and dedication to a cause, a cause for which he was willing, and ultimately did, give his life, by taking the day off to sleep late, eat out, watch bad television or go to the mall? Instead of having our children in school learning about the civil rights movement led by King, they are out of school, doing little of value, and not thinking about what this day means at all.
There are a few celebrations, of course, scattered around town. The talking heads on the local and national news are mentioning it, especially in light of the inauguration tomorrow. The symbolism is inescapable, and I think most Americans, from the whole rainbow of ethnic backgrounds, feel a certain amount of satisfaction, if not pride, in the fact that being half African-American was not an impediment to the election of Barack Obama. Some would say the very fact that a mixed race man from Hawaii, born to a white woman from Kansas and a black man from Kenya, raised largely by white grandparents, and married to an African-American woman, is evidence that the dream has been accomplished, and there is nothing more to do.
I would disagree. In fact, I will step gingerly out onto a very delicate limb, to state what I think is inescapably obvious, if unpopular and politically incorrect to mention. One of the biggest challenges we face in this country today is the failure of the African-American community, and by extension, all of us, to raise successful men. When there are more young black men in jail than in college, we cannot escape the recognition that a failure of epic proportions is in progress. While some in the African-American community are satisfied to blame the past, or racism, and too many in the white community are quick to lay the blame in stereotypical form, I think the reasons are irrelevant.
No matter what the cause, the crisis is in the present, and the future is dependent on solutions that must be put into place right now. I believe the primary failure is systemic, and it is the African-American community that must save itself now. Whatever the cause, whatever the background, whatever history has or has not done, the time is too short and the need too urgent, to waste time worrying about whose fault it is, or what has or hasn't been done to fix it. They cannot look to anyone else to provide the solutions, because too few who need the help will listen to anyone, much less someone outside their own community. The isolation that seems to be felt by the most disenfranchised is the very thing that keeps them from recognizing or embracing the experience that has lifted others out of poverty, and put them on the path to success.
The past is dismissed as out of touch and out of date, but too few examples in the present seem to resonate with them to show the way, either. When Bill Cosby talks about responsibility, they excoriate him for speaking his mind. For every Oprah Winfrey that speaks of the road to success, they embrace another artist who espouses violence as the solution to their conflicts. When they feel nothing but hopelessness, and jail seems inevitable, there is no incentive to try for something more.
They lack role models who believe that to achieve, you must stay in school, put your nose to the grindstone and get an education. Too few people are telling them that without that education, they will be limited in the opportunities to get a good job. Without the financial stability of secure employment, there is no incentive to be responsible for your family, and give back to those less fortunate than yourself. The cycle of poverty is not just laziness, as the cynical would have us believe. It is an epidemic of failure, systemwide, but whose eradication must begin in the home, and extend throughout the community.
There is no quick fix to poverty - it is a way of life, no matter what your color or ethnic background. For the African-American community, unless they embrace solutions, and soon, they will find that they have exchanged the shackles of slavery for the shackles of the penitentiary, and it is a dead end street.
There is an irony that was well demonstrated by the show, "The Jeffersons," which I watched when I was young. [Note to Hollywood - it's not only the African-American community that watches the so called African-American shows. Fresh Prince of Bel Air has a following of kids of every hue, and Will Smith is an actor that appeals to people in every economic and racial class. I was a rural farm kid in Minnesota, and still managed to open my mind to The Jeffersons. Kids want to experience different things, and they don't really care what color of skin they are watching.]
The whole premise of The Jeffersons revolved around the move of the Jeffersons from the working class neighborhood of Archie Bunker to the high end penthouse world inhabited by the wealthy and successful. This comedy show was a parody of the wealthy, in many ways, and came complete with the newly successful black family hiring a black maid. I think that was a more revealing statement than was probably intended - the single most important symbol of their success seemed to be the black maid they could afford to hire, who ultimately bossed them around.
In the real world, money brings privilege, and the first privilege it usually brings is a move to a better neighborhood. The problem comes when there is no backward glance, no support of those still there, no leadership on how to make that leap. If you have been successful, you must go back and help others, you must show the roadmap for success, you must push and prod and manhandle, if necessary, in order to bring more people with you.
Barack Obama was never a part of the ghetto culture in America. Although he has lived a variety of experiences, he has less in common with an African-American in the slums of Chicago than he does with suburban parents in most major cities. But Obama made a choice a long time ago to take his education and his knowledge and his experiences, and spend some time in the darkness, live the life, walk the walk, and try to make a difference in the community where hope is fragile and education is scorned. That he has gone beyond that life, and is now experiencing the mountaintop, should be embraced and lauded, not only for his personal achievement, but for the role model he is providing.
While some have criticized him for not enrolling his children in the DC public schools, I would have been disappointed in him if he had. He values education, and if he doesn't value success for his own children, then how can I imagine he will value it for mine? His children have a rare example in their own home - a two parent family that, from all appearances, are loving and caring and supportive of each other. He has criticized the culture of hate and violence and irresponsibility that pervades the inner city, and he has called each American to begin with themselves to make the changes needed to make this country a better place for everyone.
As we stand on the threshold of history, it is fitting that the day before the inauguration would be a day dedicated to the celebration of The Dream. I hope and pray that Barack Obama will provide a new voice and new leadership, not only in the African-American community, to be sure, but especially there. I hope his example of education, service, hard work, and a little bit of luck, is one which will show all of our nation's children the path to a better land, one with the promise of a future, and the fulfillment of the dreams of every one of us for our future generations.
If he succeeds in that, he will be able to look back at his place in history and know he has made a contribution worth honoring. Martin Luther King, Jr. would expect nothing more, and the people of this nation deserve nothing less. Barack Obama is the exemplar of the American dream come to life - in his death, King was the martyr that made it possible.
No matter which side of the political spectrum you fall into, celebrate today the living dream of our founding fathers - a country where any child, no matter what their circumstances, can dare to dream, and have it come true.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Tanked
The entire country is drunk on the excitement of the inauguration, it seems, which is coming up this week. So I am going to do us all a favor, and not say another word about it.
See, aren't you glad you turned to my blog this fine day? Not only do I provide witty and uplifting commentary, I am even non-partisan. [That is as opposed to bi-partisan, the latest Washington buzz phrase.]
Instead of politics, I'm going to take up the topic of toilets. Although some cynics would make the claim that there is a certain amount of common ground, I will not take the plunge.
As I may have mentioned once or 1,000 times, I am not the luckiest of souls to ever walk the earth. If it can go wrong, for some reason, it usually does in my world. I don't really know why it is that way, but that seems to be my fate. So it should come as no surprise to anyone to learn that my toilet in the upstairs bathroom, the least visible area of the house for me, would break down for absolutely no good reason, and I would be left up a creek without a paddle. [See how topical I can be? It's a gift, but I try to stay modest about it all.]
It all started innocently enough, as most disasters do. I was in the kitchen, once again wrestling with that age old question, WHAT do I make for dinner, when my eldest child informed me that he was tired of the wet bathroom floor. Since his younger sister was out of town, and had been for several days, I didn't think it took a brain surgeon to figure out where the fault lay, and said so. I added the obvious solution to the problem, but that didn't satisfy him. He said, "Well, the water isn't really by the tub, it's more across from the toilet, actually."
I was becoming quite alarmed at this point, since for the water to be in front of the toilet, it would have to travel rather a ways. So, with a rising note of hysteria creeping into my voice, I inquired as to exactly how much water we were talking about. To which he replied, "Well, there isn't an inch of water standing on the floor, but there is quite a bit."
Hm. Water standing on the floor, especially when used in conjunction with the words, "quite a bit," is not something that any homeowner wants to hear. Ever. So I hustled up the stairs to investigate, expecting to see a few damp spots on the floor, and deliver a lecture about responsibility. Instead, what I found was Lake Huron, (for those who do not get my oblique humor, that is a takeoff on "Here on" the floor,) and it precipitated immediate action.
First, I turned off the water supply, twisting the shut off valve as tight as I could to be sure no more water could possibly escape the pipe and add to the raging current coursing across the bathroom floor. More on this later, rest assured.
Then I ran for the towel supply, which I keep handy at all times for eventualities such as this. In your life, you may not have a huge supply of ragged towels, kept handy for the disaster which is sure to befall you at any moment. In my life, it's a requirement. Thus, I grabbed my handy stash, and ran back upstairs to sop up the mess. All the wet towels into the bathtub, soak up more water, and then I finally got down to the floor, dry, a little the worse for the wear, but hopefully salvageable.
Then began the process of determining the cause of this immense disaster. I started feeling around on the bottom of the tank, to see if it was wet. I have no idea, at this moment, why I leaped to the conclusion I did, but for some ridiculous reason, I assumed the problem was the water intake pipe going into the tank. I thought it may have failed, so decided to just take the whole works apart and see what was going on. Evidently, I was not thinking too clearly, because although I did think to flush the toilet and get some water out of the tank, I didn't dry the bottom, leaving a good inch of water that wouldn't go out through the drain.
I have no excuse - sometimes I am just an idiot. [Just in case you know someone who may or may not be named Dave, please do not tell him I made that confession. I would never hear the end of it. If he were real. Which he isn't, of course.]
Two truly interesting pieces of information came out of that little exercise. The first thing I learned was that the shut off valve had not shut off all the way. The second piece of information was that the tank was no longer bolted to the stool.
That was the moment I realized I had much bigger problems, and the fill valve was the least of my worries. Because the entire tank went sideways on the stool, and water once again seemed to be everywhere.
I assure you, I was gobsmacked.
A toilet tank does not ordinarily come unbolted, to the best of my knowledge, and I simply couldn't make sense of a freestanding tank sitting askew in my bathroom with water flowing through the holes where the bolts should be. I determined that one of them was actually down on the floor underneath the tank, while the other was still hanging on by a thread.
The dam of saturated towels were, at this point, merely a diversion in the stream, serving no effective purpose. On the contrary, they were actually making the situation worse, by spreading the water further afield. The water depth was not an inch, I will grant him that, but it was as close as you can get. In short, we were experiencing a flood, and what was worse, it was getting deeper by the minute.
Naturally, there was an additional wrinkle, just in case the whole situation wasn't quite bad enough. The water flowing from the tank with such abandon was filled with the residue of a bleach cleaning tablet which I had popped into the tank a month or so previously. It is the only time I have ever used one of those tablets, and I can assure you, I will never be so foolish as to take the chance on doing it again. I don't know if it was coincidence or what, but I am deeply suspicious about the whole thing, I can tell you.
So, to bring us all up to speed, I am now standing in the middle of a bona fide flood in an upstairs bathroom, which is not only not improving, but getting worse. Super. Another SNAFU for us.
Just to make things a little more fun, at that moment I suddenly realized that the fill pipe, which was theoretically turned off by the shutoff valve, was, in fact, dripping at a rather speedy rate, and water continued to flow. ARGH. I knew then that the situation called for crisis management, and I finally came to the only conclusion I could. Time to turn off the water main, obviously.
I raced down the stairs, barely giving my concerned mother a fleeting glance backward, as she tried to ask what was happening. In fine form, I delivered the only statement that seemed appropriate at that moment. "I HATE MY LIFE." The pronouncement did not make my mother feel a rush of pride, I must admit, and I do feel bad about that. Sorry mom. Sometimes, you just gotta vent.
I turned off the new water main shut off valve, feeling a small rush of pleasure that my previous water catastrophe had resulted in a better outcome this time, only to realize that it, too, was leaking. But it was leaking on the basement floor, not the bathroom floor, and I was prepared to live with that problem in the short term, in favor of staunching the flow in the bathroom.
Next, I ran upstairs and tried to figure out what was wrong, but none of it made sense to me any longer. I realized, stressed out as I was, that it was time to call in the professionals. I had done my best, but it wasn't good enough, and the time had come to hire someone who would be able to fix the entire situation.
I called my usual plumber, who, predictably, [did I mention this was Friday afternoon, about 5:30, right after New Year's?] was out of town, with no back up. Super. Things going exactly as you would expect. I explained I had no water and several people in the house, to which they said, "Well, call a plumber."
Okayyyyy. I thought that was what I did.
Then I called my handyman, whom I call upon in times of distress, to come and save me from myself. No answer. This has become a catastrophe now, as we have no water, and we have the entire weekend stretching ahead of us.
My 82 year old mother is always game for fixing things. I think it was her example that made me realize that I can do anything around here that I really have to. She and I have fixed faucets and outlet switches and all sorts of stuff, and we are the original Ms. Fixit crowd.
Mom and I took off for the store to buy a new shut off valve, so at least we could staunch the flow of water onto the floor. That was the thing that had to be done first, and I was all for getting the process underway.
You may know this already, but I was extremely surprised to learn that there are many, many different shut off valve sizes out there. I am not really sure why they can't just make pipes a standard size, but apparently that's one more thing that doesn't make sense in this world. As mom and I stood there contemplating the increasingly out of control situation, my handyman guy, Kevin, called me. At last, something going my way.
He came immediately, fixed up the problem, and was gone with $39 of the best spent dollars I've ever paid, almost before we knew it. The problem was solved, the shut off valve worked, glory, hallelujah, life was good.
I wish I could say everyone lived happily ever after. Or maybe even just The End. But you knew that wouldn't be it. That is too easy, too quick, too uncomplicated. No, there is a follow up.
About a week after Lake Huron dried up, my eldest son, the one who seems to love to deliver bad news lately, came into my office where I was working and announced, "Mom. You aren't going to like this at all." Augh. [Second caveat. Whenever one of your very own offspring announces to you that there is something you aren't going to like, you should always assume that you will absolutely hate it.]
Obviously, I said the only thing I could to that. "What's wrong now?"
"Well," he said, "there seems to be water all over the floor in the upstairs bathroom again." WHAT???? If you are a Snoopy fan, you will remember how occasionally, when Linus was really surprised about something, all his little hairs would stand on end. That is how I felt upon hearing my son utter those dreadful words.
My hair stood on end.
I ran upstairs, briefly pausing to thank him for at least notifying me this time, and sure enough, the bathroom was soaked once again. Augh. Now what?
I felt around, thinking that surely it would be something simple, but nothing obvious came to mind. I simply couldn't understand what was going on, because there seemed to be water everywhere this time. I looked at the bolts, and they were securely in place. I looked at the fill valve, and it was dampish, but not dripping. I simply didn't understand, so I opened the cover, and saw that a plunger may not come amiss.
Not being entirely sure, I flushed. The water started to rise, and rise and rise, and showed no sign of stopping, when I finally reached down and turned the shut off valve.
You were expecting me to say it was broken again, weren't you? See. Now you know how I feel. But you would be wrong, because, as always, the surprise was on me, and it actually worked.
The water rose to the very top of the bowl, and it stopped. I heaved a sigh of relief, then realized that I would have to try to plunge without overflowing the water. That was going to be an interesting trick, but I ever so carefully put the plunger in, and somehow, some way, I managed to give it a small plunge, and flush. Down the water went.
As I stood there watching, however, it occurred to me that even with the toilet plugged, it never should have gotten so high. I lifted off the tank cover, and glanced inside, but the water level was at the bottom, of course, and I reached down to turn the valve back on.
I watched the water rising slowly, and listening to it, thought it sounded a little odd. I couldn't quite understand what the problem was, and was about to put the cover on the tank, when I realized that the float had popped up, but the water was still running. It ran and ran, and before I knew it, it was almost flowing over the top, before I reached down to shut off the valve again.
So that was the answer. The stupid fill valve wasn't working. Simple fix, easy answer, no need to take anything much apart, simple to take care of. Now that I knew what was wrong, I would be able to fix it in no time.
I went to the hardware store a day or so later, leaving the water shut off in the meantime, of course, and everyone under orders not to use that toilet. Eventually, I got the little rubber washer that wears out, brought it home, and expected it to be taken care of in minutes.
Not so fast.
I replaced the old washer, put the fill valve back together, turned on the water, and waited with anticipation. Only to find that once again, the float popped up, and the water remained free flowing.
Augh.
I couldn't deal with it right then, so off went the water once again [that new shut off valve had quite the workout] and it sat for another couple of days. After a great deal of consideration and contemplation, I selected the new fill valve that I thought would give me the greatest security, and later in the day, went home to install it.
I assembled the fill valve, and then turned on the water once again. I waited with anticipation, watching the bottom of the tank with the sort of rapt attention usually reserved for rock stars or the President-elect.
I wish I could say this was the end of the story. I wish all had been well. Alas, it was not. Because of course that valve was leaking around the bottom of the tank, and no matter how much I tightened it, no matter how many ways I tried to make it work, it refused. It was a failure. I was incapable of installing a simple valve that a five year old could handle without trouble.
It was demoralizing. I quit on it, deciding that tomorrow was another day. I may not be Scarlett O'Hara, but I certainly am Irish, and if it worked for her, it can work for me, too.
Of course, that was a book, and this is real life, so obviously, it still leaked this morning. Which is when I decided that the valve was the weak link instead of me. [See, I'm putting that whole reframing resolution to good use.] I hustled off to the hardware store once again, procured yet another fill valve, brought it home, assembled and installed, and then?
IT WORKED! YAY!
They say persistence is a virtue, but if it is, it's only because you have no choice. But I can tell you one thing that I have learned. If you are going to take the plunge and do your own toilet repairs, make sure your tank is bolted on, and your shut off valve works.
See, aren't you glad you turned to my blog this fine day? Not only do I provide witty and uplifting commentary, I am even non-partisan. [That is as opposed to bi-partisan, the latest Washington buzz phrase.]
Instead of politics, I'm going to take up the topic of toilets. Although some cynics would make the claim that there is a certain amount of common ground, I will not take the plunge.
As I may have mentioned once or 1,000 times, I am not the luckiest of souls to ever walk the earth. If it can go wrong, for some reason, it usually does in my world. I don't really know why it is that way, but that seems to be my fate. So it should come as no surprise to anyone to learn that my toilet in the upstairs bathroom, the least visible area of the house for me, would break down for absolutely no good reason, and I would be left up a creek without a paddle. [See how topical I can be? It's a gift, but I try to stay modest about it all.]
It all started innocently enough, as most disasters do. I was in the kitchen, once again wrestling with that age old question, WHAT do I make for dinner, when my eldest child informed me that he was tired of the wet bathroom floor. Since his younger sister was out of town, and had been for several days, I didn't think it took a brain surgeon to figure out where the fault lay, and said so. I added the obvious solution to the problem, but that didn't satisfy him. He said, "Well, the water isn't really by the tub, it's more across from the toilet, actually."
I was becoming quite alarmed at this point, since for the water to be in front of the toilet, it would have to travel rather a ways. So, with a rising note of hysteria creeping into my voice, I inquired as to exactly how much water we were talking about. To which he replied, "Well, there isn't an inch of water standing on the floor, but there is quite a bit."
Hm. Water standing on the floor, especially when used in conjunction with the words, "quite a bit," is not something that any homeowner wants to hear. Ever. So I hustled up the stairs to investigate, expecting to see a few damp spots on the floor, and deliver a lecture about responsibility. Instead, what I found was Lake Huron, (for those who do not get my oblique humor, that is a takeoff on "Here on" the floor,) and it precipitated immediate action.
First, I turned off the water supply, twisting the shut off valve as tight as I could to be sure no more water could possibly escape the pipe and add to the raging current coursing across the bathroom floor. More on this later, rest assured.
Then I ran for the towel supply, which I keep handy at all times for eventualities such as this. In your life, you may not have a huge supply of ragged towels, kept handy for the disaster which is sure to befall you at any moment. In my life, it's a requirement. Thus, I grabbed my handy stash, and ran back upstairs to sop up the mess. All the wet towels into the bathtub, soak up more water, and then I finally got down to the floor, dry, a little the worse for the wear, but hopefully salvageable.
Then began the process of determining the cause of this immense disaster. I started feeling around on the bottom of the tank, to see if it was wet. I have no idea, at this moment, why I leaped to the conclusion I did, but for some ridiculous reason, I assumed the problem was the water intake pipe going into the tank. I thought it may have failed, so decided to just take the whole works apart and see what was going on. Evidently, I was not thinking too clearly, because although I did think to flush the toilet and get some water out of the tank, I didn't dry the bottom, leaving a good inch of water that wouldn't go out through the drain.
I have no excuse - sometimes I am just an idiot. [Just in case you know someone who may or may not be named Dave, please do not tell him I made that confession. I would never hear the end of it. If he were real. Which he isn't, of course.]
Two truly interesting pieces of information came out of that little exercise. The first thing I learned was that the shut off valve had not shut off all the way. The second piece of information was that the tank was no longer bolted to the stool.
That was the moment I realized I had much bigger problems, and the fill valve was the least of my worries. Because the entire tank went sideways on the stool, and water once again seemed to be everywhere.
I assure you, I was gobsmacked.
A toilet tank does not ordinarily come unbolted, to the best of my knowledge, and I simply couldn't make sense of a freestanding tank sitting askew in my bathroom with water flowing through the holes where the bolts should be. I determined that one of them was actually down on the floor underneath the tank, while the other was still hanging on by a thread.
The dam of saturated towels were, at this point, merely a diversion in the stream, serving no effective purpose. On the contrary, they were actually making the situation worse, by spreading the water further afield. The water depth was not an inch, I will grant him that, but it was as close as you can get. In short, we were experiencing a flood, and what was worse, it was getting deeper by the minute.
Naturally, there was an additional wrinkle, just in case the whole situation wasn't quite bad enough. The water flowing from the tank with such abandon was filled with the residue of a bleach cleaning tablet which I had popped into the tank a month or so previously. It is the only time I have ever used one of those tablets, and I can assure you, I will never be so foolish as to take the chance on doing it again. I don't know if it was coincidence or what, but I am deeply suspicious about the whole thing, I can tell you.
So, to bring us all up to speed, I am now standing in the middle of a bona fide flood in an upstairs bathroom, which is not only not improving, but getting worse. Super. Another SNAFU for us.
Just to make things a little more fun, at that moment I suddenly realized that the fill pipe, which was theoretically turned off by the shutoff valve, was, in fact, dripping at a rather speedy rate, and water continued to flow. ARGH. I knew then that the situation called for crisis management, and I finally came to the only conclusion I could. Time to turn off the water main, obviously.
I raced down the stairs, barely giving my concerned mother a fleeting glance backward, as she tried to ask what was happening. In fine form, I delivered the only statement that seemed appropriate at that moment. "I HATE MY LIFE." The pronouncement did not make my mother feel a rush of pride, I must admit, and I do feel bad about that. Sorry mom. Sometimes, you just gotta vent.
I turned off the new water main shut off valve, feeling a small rush of pleasure that my previous water catastrophe had resulted in a better outcome this time, only to realize that it, too, was leaking. But it was leaking on the basement floor, not the bathroom floor, and I was prepared to live with that problem in the short term, in favor of staunching the flow in the bathroom.
Next, I ran upstairs and tried to figure out what was wrong, but none of it made sense to me any longer. I realized, stressed out as I was, that it was time to call in the professionals. I had done my best, but it wasn't good enough, and the time had come to hire someone who would be able to fix the entire situation.
I called my usual plumber, who, predictably, [did I mention this was Friday afternoon, about 5:30, right after New Year's?] was out of town, with no back up. Super. Things going exactly as you would expect. I explained I had no water and several people in the house, to which they said, "Well, call a plumber."
Okayyyyy. I thought that was what I did.
Then I called my handyman, whom I call upon in times of distress, to come and save me from myself. No answer. This has become a catastrophe now, as we have no water, and we have the entire weekend stretching ahead of us.
My 82 year old mother is always game for fixing things. I think it was her example that made me realize that I can do anything around here that I really have to. She and I have fixed faucets and outlet switches and all sorts of stuff, and we are the original Ms. Fixit crowd.
Mom and I took off for the store to buy a new shut off valve, so at least we could staunch the flow of water onto the floor. That was the thing that had to be done first, and I was all for getting the process underway.
You may know this already, but I was extremely surprised to learn that there are many, many different shut off valve sizes out there. I am not really sure why they can't just make pipes a standard size, but apparently that's one more thing that doesn't make sense in this world. As mom and I stood there contemplating the increasingly out of control situation, my handyman guy, Kevin, called me. At last, something going my way.
He came immediately, fixed up the problem, and was gone with $39 of the best spent dollars I've ever paid, almost before we knew it. The problem was solved, the shut off valve worked, glory, hallelujah, life was good.
I wish I could say everyone lived happily ever after. Or maybe even just The End. But you knew that wouldn't be it. That is too easy, too quick, too uncomplicated. No, there is a follow up.
About a week after Lake Huron dried up, my eldest son, the one who seems to love to deliver bad news lately, came into my office where I was working and announced, "Mom. You aren't going to like this at all." Augh. [Second caveat. Whenever one of your very own offspring announces to you that there is something you aren't going to like, you should always assume that you will absolutely hate it.]
Obviously, I said the only thing I could to that. "What's wrong now?"
"Well," he said, "there seems to be water all over the floor in the upstairs bathroom again." WHAT???? If you are a Snoopy fan, you will remember how occasionally, when Linus was really surprised about something, all his little hairs would stand on end. That is how I felt upon hearing my son utter those dreadful words.
My hair stood on end.
I ran upstairs, briefly pausing to thank him for at least notifying me this time, and sure enough, the bathroom was soaked once again. Augh. Now what?
I felt around, thinking that surely it would be something simple, but nothing obvious came to mind. I simply couldn't understand what was going on, because there seemed to be water everywhere this time. I looked at the bolts, and they were securely in place. I looked at the fill valve, and it was dampish, but not dripping. I simply didn't understand, so I opened the cover, and saw that a plunger may not come amiss.
Not being entirely sure, I flushed. The water started to rise, and rise and rise, and showed no sign of stopping, when I finally reached down and turned the shut off valve.
You were expecting me to say it was broken again, weren't you? See. Now you know how I feel. But you would be wrong, because, as always, the surprise was on me, and it actually worked.
The water rose to the very top of the bowl, and it stopped. I heaved a sigh of relief, then realized that I would have to try to plunge without overflowing the water. That was going to be an interesting trick, but I ever so carefully put the plunger in, and somehow, some way, I managed to give it a small plunge, and flush. Down the water went.
As I stood there watching, however, it occurred to me that even with the toilet plugged, it never should have gotten so high. I lifted off the tank cover, and glanced inside, but the water level was at the bottom, of course, and I reached down to turn the valve back on.
I watched the water rising slowly, and listening to it, thought it sounded a little odd. I couldn't quite understand what the problem was, and was about to put the cover on the tank, when I realized that the float had popped up, but the water was still running. It ran and ran, and before I knew it, it was almost flowing over the top, before I reached down to shut off the valve again.
So that was the answer. The stupid fill valve wasn't working. Simple fix, easy answer, no need to take anything much apart, simple to take care of. Now that I knew what was wrong, I would be able to fix it in no time.
I went to the hardware store a day or so later, leaving the water shut off in the meantime, of course, and everyone under orders not to use that toilet. Eventually, I got the little rubber washer that wears out, brought it home, and expected it to be taken care of in minutes.
Not so fast.
I replaced the old washer, put the fill valve back together, turned on the water, and waited with anticipation. Only to find that once again, the float popped up, and the water remained free flowing.
Augh.
I couldn't deal with it right then, so off went the water once again [that new shut off valve had quite the workout] and it sat for another couple of days. After a great deal of consideration and contemplation, I selected the new fill valve that I thought would give me the greatest security, and later in the day, went home to install it.
I assembled the fill valve, and then turned on the water once again. I waited with anticipation, watching the bottom of the tank with the sort of rapt attention usually reserved for rock stars or the President-elect.
I wish I could say this was the end of the story. I wish all had been well. Alas, it was not. Because of course that valve was leaking around the bottom of the tank, and no matter how much I tightened it, no matter how many ways I tried to make it work, it refused. It was a failure. I was incapable of installing a simple valve that a five year old could handle without trouble.
It was demoralizing. I quit on it, deciding that tomorrow was another day. I may not be Scarlett O'Hara, but I certainly am Irish, and if it worked for her, it can work for me, too.
Of course, that was a book, and this is real life, so obviously, it still leaked this morning. Which is when I decided that the valve was the weak link instead of me. [See, I'm putting that whole reframing resolution to good use.] I hustled off to the hardware store once again, procured yet another fill valve, brought it home, assembled and installed, and then?
IT WORKED! YAY!
They say persistence is a virtue, but if it is, it's only because you have no choice. But I can tell you one thing that I have learned. If you are going to take the plunge and do your own toilet repairs, make sure your tank is bolted on, and your shut off valve works.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Much to do about nothing or something....
I was indulging just now in my habit of reading comments after some online news events when I ran across an item that produced more partisan commentary than I have seen in some time. Apparently Joe Biden's son, Beau, the Attorney General of Delaware, who is currently in Iraq with his unit in the Air National Guard, is home on leave for the inauguration. [Not to go off on a tangent or anything here, but the guy is only about ten years younger than me, and he looks like he is about 20. Life really IS NOT FAIR.]
This has given rise to some of the smokiest comments I've seen in awhile, maybe since the election itself, in fact. People on both sides of the issue seem to be passionate about their opinions, as usual. What I find interesting, though, is not the partisan opinions, which are routine and expected, and so small minded that I don't pay attention to either side.
The thing that caught my attention is that there seems to be no recognition of the fact that some life events, even once in a lifetime, are bigger than others, and that inequity is what we should be arguing about. We have entirely lost our perspective as a nation, I think, on pretty much everything, and we are all the worse for it. This small thing demonstrates our inability to be rational about what is really important as well as anything I've seen in awhile, which is probably why it piqued my interest in the first place.
Don't get me wrong here. I would prefer that no member of our military ever miss any big event in the lives of their family members. I am a liberal after all, [or so I'm told,] and I would prefer peace over war any day of the year. [Not to diverge once again, but if hating war and preferring peace makes me a liberal, then I will claim the title with alacrity.] Sadly, sometimes we must face the inevitable, however, [Afghanistan comes to mind as one inevitable conflict where we had no choice but to act,] and just move forward to do what must be done.
So when we send our young men and women off to fight our battles for us, and let's be honest, that is, in fact, what we are doing, we should at least be understanding of the sorts of sacrifices not only the service person, but their families, are making on our behalf. It seems to me that some things should be absolute, in terms of granting leave, so that the most special moments life has to offer won't be missed, if at all possible.
The birth of your child is one such moment that should never be missed. When a baby is born, it changes the world. All the possibilities in life are wrapped up in their promise, and the world will never be the same, because they are now in it. No matter what happens from that moment forward, they have already touched the lives of other people, and the waves that spread outward from there cannot be stopped. The birth of a child is a moment no parent should miss, and no baby should be denied their parents being there, if it can be avoided.
So I think, if there is any possible way to get the guy home, and let's face it, there are usually nine months warning, so you do have some planning lead time here, why on earth are our military commanders not getting it done? Are there so many babies being born to the men in uniform [I leave out the women here, because I don't think pregnant women get deployed, so this is an issue that only affects the men,] that we cannot bring them home for two weeks to be there for the most special event in most people's lives?
I don't understand. Weddings can be postponed or moved up. Graduations, while certainly special and important, don't rise to the same level, in my opinion, as a birth or a death. You can even postpone a funeral, if need be, until the service person can come home.
But a baby? You have roughly 40 weeks, and that is the time frame. You cannot postpone, you can move ahead only marginally. A person has only one or two, or at most, a few, children in a lifetime, and for the commoners amongst us, it is the most life changing moment we will ever experience. That calls for special consideration, in my book, and if our men in the arena of war aren't getting it, then we need to call for a change.
The commentary, blisteringly partisan, has been rather fascinating, I think. You can see the spin people put on the subject, depending on their own experience and station in life.
Some people are offended because the rank and file soldier doesn't have the chance to come home for special family events. Unfortunately for them, their comments are hard to take seriously, as the events being mentioned are generally birthdays, anniversaries, graduations. It seems silly to me to compare a birthday party, however special your child may be to you, to a birth or an inauguration as Vice President of the United States. Perspective, anyone? [I would say perspective is genuinely lacking for much of the online commentary, if not most Americans generally, these days. The me first culture seems to be alive and well in North America.]
There were comments made, mostly by the Republican partisans, about Sarah Palin's son, also currently on duty in the Middle East, and the question asked whether people now so in favor would be on the other side of the fence, if she were being inaugurated instead of Joe Biden. I think that's a fair question in the current political climate, and if your answer is yes, then you need to look into your own heart and see what you need to change. Personally, I would hope that any child would be present for an event that is only happening for the 44th time in the history of our nation, perhaps one of the most historic of all time, and I don't care which party it is that is in control.
There were the apologists, who stated that everyone has a scheduled R&R time, and if you plan ahead, you can plan around important family events. There were many comments, both in support and in conflict with those remarks, from people who had missed many important occasions while on active duty, as well as from people who done exactly that.
Since I have never served, I don't know the rules or the way it works. But there were enough comments to make me think that there are two sets of rules in the military, and whether you are an officer or an enlisted person probably makes a bigger difference than if you are the son of a powerful person, or Joe Shmoe from Paducah.
There were the cynical comments about nothing changing, and many scathing comments were hurled around on favoritism, elitism, and all sorts of other isms. For all I know, there probably was favoritism shown to Beau Biden.
I don't think anyone should be surprised, frankly, to learn that there is favoritism amongst the powerful and elite in this country. [Of course there is, what rock have you been living under, anyway? Do you seriously believe that the Democrats are the only ones who engage in that sort of behavior? Sheesh.] One of the key things about being elite, and why it is the cause of envy throughout human history, why most people strive to achieve that status, if they are honest, is the very fact that it allows you special treatment.
Although this country was founded on egalitarian principles, and we all like to hold up the whole "All people are created equal" standard as the ideal, let's face it folks, some people really are more valued than others, and that is just the way life is. Even in America in 2009. If you are rich, famous, powerful - the rules will always change for you. If you are educated and wealthy, and you have the right connections or enough money, the rules are different for you, and for your children. If you are poor, uneducated, from a disadvantaged background, you will suffer for it.
We don't have to look very far to see the truth of that. OJ Simpson spent years as a free man because of it. Actors get diversion instead of jail all the time. Famous people want an international adoption, and suddenly all the usual rules have been waived. The Vice President shoots his friend on a hunting trip, and has the wounded man apologizing for being in the way of the bullet. The child of a former president expresses a whim to be a US Senator, and is taken seriously, despite never having been elected for anything at all. Being well connected trumps every other consideration, and for them, the playing field is not only not level, it is stacked in their favor.
The children of the President and Vice President of the United States are going to get preferential treatment. Always have, always will. Whether their last name is Bush, or Eisenhower, Kennedy or Biden, there will be a different set of rules for their children than for the rest of us.
And perhaps they should. Being the children of the highest ranking officials in the country, they also face some unique risks and adverse circumstances that the rest of us will never know. They are scrutinized for their braces, their school, their clothing, their activities, their hair, their job choice, and their support of their own parents. They are living in the shadow of 250 million or so expectations, and I have to think, that can't be easy. I don't even fulfill my own expectations, I can't imagine living in the shadow of the White House.
They are targets for everything from abduction to undue influence by someone whose motives are less than ideal. They are held up as the example of their parents' failings (everyone from Alice Roosevelt and Amy Carter to Bristol Palin come to mind,) as well as examples of their parents' success (Maureen Reagan, Jack Ford or Chelsea Clinton are the ones that pop into my head, although I'm sure there are others,) without being given credit for having made their own way on either side of the coin. Can you imagine the coup, should one of them be abducted or assassinated by a terrorist trying to be the ultimate martyr?
The more cogent concern, if I had a loved one in Beau Biden's unit, or anywhere near him, for that matter, is whether he should even be in Iraq at all. If my son were there, the last place I would want him to be is anywhere near the son of the Vice President of the United States.
I think I would be thrilled to see Beau leave that continent and come back to the US, where the Secret Service can deal with his protection, and he would no longer be drawing the attention of the baddest of the world's bad guys to the place where my loved one was currently serving.
What a target he would make. Kidnapping? Extortion? Even murder? The enemy we are fighting would kill, literally, for the opportunity to get that kind of attention. Just as I feel Prince Harry probably doesn't belong over there, even though I think it might have been the single admirable impulse he has ever had, because he is putting his unit at risk, I don't feel the child of a high member of our administration should be over there, either. It is the common folk, after all, that really matter to me, and they are the ones who will suffer most if something happens because he is there.
Much as Prince Harry was pulled when his presence became known in Afghanistan, as much for his unit as for his own safety, the same is true here. As long as he is anonymous, it is probably okay.
There wouldn't have been any way that Beau Biden would have remained anonymous, even if he tried. It would have been trumpeted every five minutes, on every radio and television station in the country, if not the world, that the son of the incoming Vice President was serving in Iraq.
They would have shown his unit, they would have had photographers there to film him watching his father's swearing in, there would have been attention paid and pictures published and details of his location unintentionally given. And that, I think, is the real point of bringing him home.
So what about Beau Biden coming back on leave to see his father inaugurated? I think that any time a service man or woman has an event in their family that is truly once in a lifetime, a special exception should be made whenever possible, whether it's the birth of a child, the death of a family member, or the inauguration of his father as VIce President of this nation. If it doesn't happen for everyone, then I am sorry for those who haven't had the chance. But I don't think you solve the problem by restricting the privilege and engaging in reverse elitism.
Instead, I think we need to work in the direction of allowing more men and women, who are giving up years of their lives and family time, more opportunities to be there for the special times, even if it means extending their service a little longer, or making some other sacrifice. It seems there should be ways that we can make it happen, which would not only not compromise our military, but perhaps even enhance it by promoting greater satisfaction among those who are serving. We are fond of saying nothing is too good for our people in uniform. I would like to see our actions support our words on the things that really matter, from better armor to more campassionate leave.
And to the naysayers who say he got special treatment, and he should just sit in a tent and watch the swearing in with the other servicemen and women? I would point out that this late 30's man, well educated and very well connected, the Attorney General of the State of Delaware, no less, probably could have gotten out of his service in Iraq, if he were, in fact, a shirker. Whether your last name is Biden or McCain or Windsor or Shmoe, you should be honored for your service, and for risking your life, so those of us sitting in the safe zone can bloviate about it. It is no less a sacrifice if you are famous than if you are not.
And then, if you are a potential target because of who you are or who your parents are, you should be gotten out of there, for the protection of everyone else who isn't a big name. In the long run, your special treatment just may save the lives of the not so special people who are serving with you, and that is what matters most to me.
I hope that the many people who are making much of this situation will look into their hearts and realize that the special treatment they seek to deny Beau Biden may also deny their neighbor, their friend, or their own relative, special treatment somewhere down the line. If I had to guess, I would imagine more special favors were granted for everyday men and women than are ever granted for the powerful and well connected. And it is the common folk that we should be most concerned about.
Happy spectating, Beau. And when you return to Iraq in two weeks or whenever, please keep your men and women who serve under you safe by not taking stupid chances, exposing yourself to risk unnecessarily, and remember how it felt to have the privilege of being present at this important event. Maybe you can help change the culture to give the chance to others, too. That may be the most imnportant service you can do.
This has given rise to some of the smokiest comments I've seen in awhile, maybe since the election itself, in fact. People on both sides of the issue seem to be passionate about their opinions, as usual. What I find interesting, though, is not the partisan opinions, which are routine and expected, and so small minded that I don't pay attention to either side.
The thing that caught my attention is that there seems to be no recognition of the fact that some life events, even once in a lifetime, are bigger than others, and that inequity is what we should be arguing about. We have entirely lost our perspective as a nation, I think, on pretty much everything, and we are all the worse for it. This small thing demonstrates our inability to be rational about what is really important as well as anything I've seen in awhile, which is probably why it piqued my interest in the first place.
Don't get me wrong here. I would prefer that no member of our military ever miss any big event in the lives of their family members. I am a liberal after all, [or so I'm told,] and I would prefer peace over war any day of the year. [Not to diverge once again, but if hating war and preferring peace makes me a liberal, then I will claim the title with alacrity.] Sadly, sometimes we must face the inevitable, however, [Afghanistan comes to mind as one inevitable conflict where we had no choice but to act,] and just move forward to do what must be done.
So when we send our young men and women off to fight our battles for us, and let's be honest, that is, in fact, what we are doing, we should at least be understanding of the sorts of sacrifices not only the service person, but their families, are making on our behalf. It seems to me that some things should be absolute, in terms of granting leave, so that the most special moments life has to offer won't be missed, if at all possible.
The birth of your child is one such moment that should never be missed. When a baby is born, it changes the world. All the possibilities in life are wrapped up in their promise, and the world will never be the same, because they are now in it. No matter what happens from that moment forward, they have already touched the lives of other people, and the waves that spread outward from there cannot be stopped. The birth of a child is a moment no parent should miss, and no baby should be denied their parents being there, if it can be avoided.
So I think, if there is any possible way to get the guy home, and let's face it, there are usually nine months warning, so you do have some planning lead time here, why on earth are our military commanders not getting it done? Are there so many babies being born to the men in uniform [I leave out the women here, because I don't think pregnant women get deployed, so this is an issue that only affects the men,] that we cannot bring them home for two weeks to be there for the most special event in most people's lives?
I don't understand. Weddings can be postponed or moved up. Graduations, while certainly special and important, don't rise to the same level, in my opinion, as a birth or a death. You can even postpone a funeral, if need be, until the service person can come home.
But a baby? You have roughly 40 weeks, and that is the time frame. You cannot postpone, you can move ahead only marginally. A person has only one or two, or at most, a few, children in a lifetime, and for the commoners amongst us, it is the most life changing moment we will ever experience. That calls for special consideration, in my book, and if our men in the arena of war aren't getting it, then we need to call for a change.
The commentary, blisteringly partisan, has been rather fascinating, I think. You can see the spin people put on the subject, depending on their own experience and station in life.
Some people are offended because the rank and file soldier doesn't have the chance to come home for special family events. Unfortunately for them, their comments are hard to take seriously, as the events being mentioned are generally birthdays, anniversaries, graduations. It seems silly to me to compare a birthday party, however special your child may be to you, to a birth or an inauguration as Vice President of the United States. Perspective, anyone? [I would say perspective is genuinely lacking for much of the online commentary, if not most Americans generally, these days. The me first culture seems to be alive and well in North America.]
There were comments made, mostly by the Republican partisans, about Sarah Palin's son, also currently on duty in the Middle East, and the question asked whether people now so in favor would be on the other side of the fence, if she were being inaugurated instead of Joe Biden. I think that's a fair question in the current political climate, and if your answer is yes, then you need to look into your own heart and see what you need to change. Personally, I would hope that any child would be present for an event that is only happening for the 44th time in the history of our nation, perhaps one of the most historic of all time, and I don't care which party it is that is in control.
There were the apologists, who stated that everyone has a scheduled R&R time, and if you plan ahead, you can plan around important family events. There were many comments, both in support and in conflict with those remarks, from people who had missed many important occasions while on active duty, as well as from people who done exactly that.
Since I have never served, I don't know the rules or the way it works. But there were enough comments to make me think that there are two sets of rules in the military, and whether you are an officer or an enlisted person probably makes a bigger difference than if you are the son of a powerful person, or Joe Shmoe from Paducah.
There were the cynical comments about nothing changing, and many scathing comments were hurled around on favoritism, elitism, and all sorts of other isms. For all I know, there probably was favoritism shown to Beau Biden.
I don't think anyone should be surprised, frankly, to learn that there is favoritism amongst the powerful and elite in this country. [Of course there is, what rock have you been living under, anyway? Do you seriously believe that the Democrats are the only ones who engage in that sort of behavior? Sheesh.] One of the key things about being elite, and why it is the cause of envy throughout human history, why most people strive to achieve that status, if they are honest, is the very fact that it allows you special treatment.
Although this country was founded on egalitarian principles, and we all like to hold up the whole "All people are created equal" standard as the ideal, let's face it folks, some people really are more valued than others, and that is just the way life is. Even in America in 2009. If you are rich, famous, powerful - the rules will always change for you. If you are educated and wealthy, and you have the right connections or enough money, the rules are different for you, and for your children. If you are poor, uneducated, from a disadvantaged background, you will suffer for it.
We don't have to look very far to see the truth of that. OJ Simpson spent years as a free man because of it. Actors get diversion instead of jail all the time. Famous people want an international adoption, and suddenly all the usual rules have been waived. The Vice President shoots his friend on a hunting trip, and has the wounded man apologizing for being in the way of the bullet. The child of a former president expresses a whim to be a US Senator, and is taken seriously, despite never having been elected for anything at all. Being well connected trumps every other consideration, and for them, the playing field is not only not level, it is stacked in their favor.
The children of the President and Vice President of the United States are going to get preferential treatment. Always have, always will. Whether their last name is Bush, or Eisenhower, Kennedy or Biden, there will be a different set of rules for their children than for the rest of us.
And perhaps they should. Being the children of the highest ranking officials in the country, they also face some unique risks and adverse circumstances that the rest of us will never know. They are scrutinized for their braces, their school, their clothing, their activities, their hair, their job choice, and their support of their own parents. They are living in the shadow of 250 million or so expectations, and I have to think, that can't be easy. I don't even fulfill my own expectations, I can't imagine living in the shadow of the White House.
They are targets for everything from abduction to undue influence by someone whose motives are less than ideal. They are held up as the example of their parents' failings (everyone from Alice Roosevelt and Amy Carter to Bristol Palin come to mind,) as well as examples of their parents' success (Maureen Reagan, Jack Ford or Chelsea Clinton are the ones that pop into my head, although I'm sure there are others,) without being given credit for having made their own way on either side of the coin. Can you imagine the coup, should one of them be abducted or assassinated by a terrorist trying to be the ultimate martyr?
The more cogent concern, if I had a loved one in Beau Biden's unit, or anywhere near him, for that matter, is whether he should even be in Iraq at all. If my son were there, the last place I would want him to be is anywhere near the son of the Vice President of the United States.
I think I would be thrilled to see Beau leave that continent and come back to the US, where the Secret Service can deal with his protection, and he would no longer be drawing the attention of the baddest of the world's bad guys to the place where my loved one was currently serving.
What a target he would make. Kidnapping? Extortion? Even murder? The enemy we are fighting would kill, literally, for the opportunity to get that kind of attention. Just as I feel Prince Harry probably doesn't belong over there, even though I think it might have been the single admirable impulse he has ever had, because he is putting his unit at risk, I don't feel the child of a high member of our administration should be over there, either. It is the common folk, after all, that really matter to me, and they are the ones who will suffer most if something happens because he is there.
Much as Prince Harry was pulled when his presence became known in Afghanistan, as much for his unit as for his own safety, the same is true here. As long as he is anonymous, it is probably okay.
There wouldn't have been any way that Beau Biden would have remained anonymous, even if he tried. It would have been trumpeted every five minutes, on every radio and television station in the country, if not the world, that the son of the incoming Vice President was serving in Iraq.
They would have shown his unit, they would have had photographers there to film him watching his father's swearing in, there would have been attention paid and pictures published and details of his location unintentionally given. And that, I think, is the real point of bringing him home.
So what about Beau Biden coming back on leave to see his father inaugurated? I think that any time a service man or woman has an event in their family that is truly once in a lifetime, a special exception should be made whenever possible, whether it's the birth of a child, the death of a family member, or the inauguration of his father as VIce President of this nation. If it doesn't happen for everyone, then I am sorry for those who haven't had the chance. But I don't think you solve the problem by restricting the privilege and engaging in reverse elitism.
Instead, I think we need to work in the direction of allowing more men and women, who are giving up years of their lives and family time, more opportunities to be there for the special times, even if it means extending their service a little longer, or making some other sacrifice. It seems there should be ways that we can make it happen, which would not only not compromise our military, but perhaps even enhance it by promoting greater satisfaction among those who are serving. We are fond of saying nothing is too good for our people in uniform. I would like to see our actions support our words on the things that really matter, from better armor to more campassionate leave.
And to the naysayers who say he got special treatment, and he should just sit in a tent and watch the swearing in with the other servicemen and women? I would point out that this late 30's man, well educated and very well connected, the Attorney General of the State of Delaware, no less, probably could have gotten out of his service in Iraq, if he were, in fact, a shirker. Whether your last name is Biden or McCain or Windsor or Shmoe, you should be honored for your service, and for risking your life, so those of us sitting in the safe zone can bloviate about it. It is no less a sacrifice if you are famous than if you are not.
And then, if you are a potential target because of who you are or who your parents are, you should be gotten out of there, for the protection of everyone else who isn't a big name. In the long run, your special treatment just may save the lives of the not so special people who are serving with you, and that is what matters most to me.
I hope that the many people who are making much of this situation will look into their hearts and realize that the special treatment they seek to deny Beau Biden may also deny their neighbor, their friend, or their own relative, special treatment somewhere down the line. If I had to guess, I would imagine more special favors were granted for everyday men and women than are ever granted for the powerful and well connected. And it is the common folk that we should be most concerned about.
Happy spectating, Beau. And when you return to Iraq in two weeks or whenever, please keep your men and women who serve under you safe by not taking stupid chances, exposing yourself to risk unnecessarily, and remember how it felt to have the privilege of being present at this important event. Maybe you can help change the culture to give the chance to others, too. That may be the most imnportant service you can do.
Monday, January 12, 2009
I'm looking over, a four leaf clover....
It's been a tough month so far around here, and I haven't had a whole lot to laugh about. My New Year's resolution to reframe things more positively has, in short, had a rather tough workout. I am seriously wondering how quickly we can get to 2010, because so far, I'm not all that thrilled with the 2009 model.
I seem to have unwillingly dragged much of what was wrong last year into the new year with me, with the unfortunate result that I will have to continue to deal with some serious problems into the foreseeable future. That has fired off a desire within to drop whatever baggage I can to make my life slightly less stressful and more fun.
Without going into detail, I have identified the problem areas, and they are as follows:
1. Pretty much everything; and,
2. Everything else.
On the upside, that gives me a lot of latitude in deciding where to start making those attitude changes that I have been assured will change my whole life.
But seriously, I have played the "If Only" game many times in my life, and for the most part, it has been frustratingly unsatisfying, although I could never put my finger on the reasons why. Last night, for the first time, I heard it framed correctly for me, and it was interesting what an impact that made upon my own self-assessment.
I heard a man speak who has had some of the worst luck you can imagine, mixed with some of the most miraculous good luck you will ever come across. I felt like I should try to touch his hem, just so some of that good luck might rub off on me.
Of course, that would run the risk I'd get the bad luck piece of the cloth instead, and with my luck, I think we all know which way that one would go. Not to mention it would be a little awkward to explain why I'm crawling around the floor at the feet of a rocket scientist I don't even know.
I imagine it goes without saying that I resisted the impulse, although I did boldly stride over after everyone else had gone and tell him how much I enjoyed his talk. Do you think it's possible to convey good luck by osmosis? I want to be on his team when he plays the lottery, that's all I have to say.
Anyway, his name is Shant Kenderian, and if you want to know about his life story, please read his book, "1001 Nights in Iraq." His story is a fascinating combination of horrendously bad luck entwined with incredible serendipity, and in the end, he seems to feel that he is the most fortunate man in the world, which is quite a long leap from considering yourself dead, forced by Saddam to fight in a war you don't believe in, whose goals you cannot support. He is uplifting and encouraging and altogether interesting, and if you have a chance to hear him speak, you should take advantage of it. From prisoner of war to rocket scientist in 1001 complicated steps.
In his talk on his life at my church last evening, which I was fortunate enough to attend thanks to a friend that is one of my many blessings, he followed up with questions from the audience. In true child-shall-lead-them fashion, the most interesting question of the night, to me, at least, came from a young boy who was in attendance, and who asked several interesting questions. But the best one was this, "If you could go back in time, knowing what you know now, and what the outcome would be, would you still go back to Iraq when you did?"
You should know that the reason Shant went to Iraq was a compelling one for him personally, and wasn't something he did lightly or thoughtlessly. It wasn't a lark - he was trying to right a wrong that was eating away at him, and to restore a relationship in his life, with his father, that had been grievously wounded years earlier.
Still, given that he was trapped there for ten years, missing his family and home in the United States, where he had lived for most of his formative years, the answer seemed obvious. It wasn't. Shant surprised everyone in the audience, I think, when he replied, "That is a hard question, because I did the right thing. It was everyone else that did the wrong thing. So how could I go back and do anything else? Because I still did the right thing."
Wow. That is a powerful way of living your life, and to overcome regrets and despair. If you live your life knowing that you have always done the right thing (or done the best you could, which is the same thing, for all intents and purposes,) then you can let go of the negative feelings, because you had no other course.
It was inspiring, to say the least, coming from a man who has been to hell and back several times because of bad luck that was totally out of his control. This is one of the few times I have heard someone speak directly to my heart, and to reach me exactly where I am. Shant understands the frustrations and the despair of trying to do everything right, and having it all go wrong anyway, and he gave me hope, not with empty words, but with experience, that somehow, it can balance out in the end.
Our circumstances are very different, and I don't mean to equate my small problems with his, by any means. But the out of control, bad luck happens sort of situation in which he found himself spoke to me, and made me feel like here was someone, at last, who had a roadmap for life that might work for me, too. Here is a man who had the deck stacked against him, and who managed to not only get through it, but to rise above it, and have the better life he dreamed of all along.
He could have given in to the despair and the hopelessness many times, allowed it to eat him up and drain his spirit away. But instead, he stayed focused on his goal of getting back to the United States and starting his life again, and that was where his energy was placed. No wasted time on what went wrong, no regrets that he didn't do something different. First and foremost, he had his faith in God that somehow it would all balance out. And he had a sense of humor.
I don't know about you, but I waste too much time on regret, wishing that I had done things another way, or better, or just hadn't done them at all. I beat myself up over decisions that haven't worked out the way I hoped, people who have let me down unexpectedly, circumstances that have worked against me, no matter how hard I try.
My faith has been a tough struggle, as well. I attempt to make sense of how a life that I tried to live well could have gone so wrong, with no answer forthcoming. I have been cross and angry with God for letting me down, without looking to see where I am being lifted up.
The biggest loss, or perhaps the most noticeable, has been my sense of humor, especially in the last few months, as things have piled up and my nerves have become frayed. I have a hard time seeing the funny side of life right now, which is something that has buoyed me up previously. It seems to have slipped away recently, as I have faced some problems, financial in nature, that could have life changing consequences for me, and for my kids, and I don't know where to find it again. I miss being able to laugh at myself and at life generally, and listening to Shant was a breath of fresh air for me. It was a wonderful reminder that humor can be found anywhere, even in the worst of times, if only you are willing to look for it.
As I listened to Shant and watched him frame his experience for us last night, I saw a different approach, one which acknowledged the hardships, but which used humor as a perspective. Shant was never resigned to his fate, he always viewed what he wanted as possible, and it became almost a game to figure out how to get it.
Where one door closed, he looked for another one. If that failed, he looked for a window, or a hole, or a crack he could get through. He didn't allow the impossible to deter him, so ultimately, anything was possible. He didn't perceive any step as backward, progress just took different directions. He seemed to see everything as moving him forward, even when it appeared to be a setback.
That is a whole different way of looking at life, and I think that it is one I can embrace. I cannot overlook the very real problems I face, and I can't pretend there aren't serious consequences, as though that doesn't matter. But at each fork in the road of my life, I have always done the best I could, and I can't go back and change that, even with better information in hindsight. Because, in the end, I always did what I believed to be the right thing.
I can set goals, and I can reach for the possible, because I know it can happen, and I have seen the proof. I can reframe the difficulties I face with humor - I have done it before, and I can do it again. I can look forward to what will be someday, and set my eyes on the mountaintop, rather than focusing on the mountainside, where you see all the rocks and the ridges that have to be overcome.
The interesting thing I have learned about heroes is that they rarely perceive themselves that way. They don't usually see what they have done as exceptional or as special. Instead, they generally see their actions as the only possible course, or as the right thing to do. They are often surprised to hear that they have affected someone else, and they are generally modest about the role they played in the situation.
But to me, Shant is a hero, not for going to Iraq, not even for surviving the ordeal, but because he is willing to open up his life story and allow others, like me, to benefit from his hard won experiences. I don't know if Shant believes in superstitions like four leaf clovers for luck, but he did say that he thought he used up all his bad luck early, so now, he has nothing but good luck to balance out.
Shant will never know me or how he has affected my attitude or my ability to cope, but for me, hearing Shant speak last night was the best luck I've had in awhile. [And I didn't even have to touch his hem to get it, so perhaps he really can spread his good fortune by osmosis!] I hope that maybe this will be the start of some overdue balance in my own life. Maybe one of these days, I will even find my sense of humor again. When I do, you'll be the first to know, because I have a lot of stuff that I'm eager to reframe and find funny.
In the meantime, excuse me while I go touch a rabbit's foot for luck. His name is Gershwin, and he is residing in my daughter's bedroom, so I don't have to go very far to find him. And he likes to eat clover, so perhaps he's going to bring double luck for me.
I seem to have unwillingly dragged much of what was wrong last year into the new year with me, with the unfortunate result that I will have to continue to deal with some serious problems into the foreseeable future. That has fired off a desire within to drop whatever baggage I can to make my life slightly less stressful and more fun.
Without going into detail, I have identified the problem areas, and they are as follows:
1. Pretty much everything; and,
2. Everything else.
On the upside, that gives me a lot of latitude in deciding where to start making those attitude changes that I have been assured will change my whole life.
But seriously, I have played the "If Only" game many times in my life, and for the most part, it has been frustratingly unsatisfying, although I could never put my finger on the reasons why. Last night, for the first time, I heard it framed correctly for me, and it was interesting what an impact that made upon my own self-assessment.
I heard a man speak who has had some of the worst luck you can imagine, mixed with some of the most miraculous good luck you will ever come across. I felt like I should try to touch his hem, just so some of that good luck might rub off on me.
Of course, that would run the risk I'd get the bad luck piece of the cloth instead, and with my luck, I think we all know which way that one would go. Not to mention it would be a little awkward to explain why I'm crawling around the floor at the feet of a rocket scientist I don't even know.
I imagine it goes without saying that I resisted the impulse, although I did boldly stride over after everyone else had gone and tell him how much I enjoyed his talk. Do you think it's possible to convey good luck by osmosis? I want to be on his team when he plays the lottery, that's all I have to say.
Anyway, his name is Shant Kenderian, and if you want to know about his life story, please read his book, "1001 Nights in Iraq." His story is a fascinating combination of horrendously bad luck entwined with incredible serendipity, and in the end, he seems to feel that he is the most fortunate man in the world, which is quite a long leap from considering yourself dead, forced by Saddam to fight in a war you don't believe in, whose goals you cannot support. He is uplifting and encouraging and altogether interesting, and if you have a chance to hear him speak, you should take advantage of it. From prisoner of war to rocket scientist in 1001 complicated steps.
In his talk on his life at my church last evening, which I was fortunate enough to attend thanks to a friend that is one of my many blessings, he followed up with questions from the audience. In true child-shall-lead-them fashion, the most interesting question of the night, to me, at least, came from a young boy who was in attendance, and who asked several interesting questions. But the best one was this, "If you could go back in time, knowing what you know now, and what the outcome would be, would you still go back to Iraq when you did?"
You should know that the reason Shant went to Iraq was a compelling one for him personally, and wasn't something he did lightly or thoughtlessly. It wasn't a lark - he was trying to right a wrong that was eating away at him, and to restore a relationship in his life, with his father, that had been grievously wounded years earlier.
Still, given that he was trapped there for ten years, missing his family and home in the United States, where he had lived for most of his formative years, the answer seemed obvious. It wasn't. Shant surprised everyone in the audience, I think, when he replied, "That is a hard question, because I did the right thing. It was everyone else that did the wrong thing. So how could I go back and do anything else? Because I still did the right thing."
Wow. That is a powerful way of living your life, and to overcome regrets and despair. If you live your life knowing that you have always done the right thing (or done the best you could, which is the same thing, for all intents and purposes,) then you can let go of the negative feelings, because you had no other course.
It was inspiring, to say the least, coming from a man who has been to hell and back several times because of bad luck that was totally out of his control. This is one of the few times I have heard someone speak directly to my heart, and to reach me exactly where I am. Shant understands the frustrations and the despair of trying to do everything right, and having it all go wrong anyway, and he gave me hope, not with empty words, but with experience, that somehow, it can balance out in the end.
Our circumstances are very different, and I don't mean to equate my small problems with his, by any means. But the out of control, bad luck happens sort of situation in which he found himself spoke to me, and made me feel like here was someone, at last, who had a roadmap for life that might work for me, too. Here is a man who had the deck stacked against him, and who managed to not only get through it, but to rise above it, and have the better life he dreamed of all along.
He could have given in to the despair and the hopelessness many times, allowed it to eat him up and drain his spirit away. But instead, he stayed focused on his goal of getting back to the United States and starting his life again, and that was where his energy was placed. No wasted time on what went wrong, no regrets that he didn't do something different. First and foremost, he had his faith in God that somehow it would all balance out. And he had a sense of humor.
I don't know about you, but I waste too much time on regret, wishing that I had done things another way, or better, or just hadn't done them at all. I beat myself up over decisions that haven't worked out the way I hoped, people who have let me down unexpectedly, circumstances that have worked against me, no matter how hard I try.
My faith has been a tough struggle, as well. I attempt to make sense of how a life that I tried to live well could have gone so wrong, with no answer forthcoming. I have been cross and angry with God for letting me down, without looking to see where I am being lifted up.
The biggest loss, or perhaps the most noticeable, has been my sense of humor, especially in the last few months, as things have piled up and my nerves have become frayed. I have a hard time seeing the funny side of life right now, which is something that has buoyed me up previously. It seems to have slipped away recently, as I have faced some problems, financial in nature, that could have life changing consequences for me, and for my kids, and I don't know where to find it again. I miss being able to laugh at myself and at life generally, and listening to Shant was a breath of fresh air for me. It was a wonderful reminder that humor can be found anywhere, even in the worst of times, if only you are willing to look for it.
As I listened to Shant and watched him frame his experience for us last night, I saw a different approach, one which acknowledged the hardships, but which used humor as a perspective. Shant was never resigned to his fate, he always viewed what he wanted as possible, and it became almost a game to figure out how to get it.
Where one door closed, he looked for another one. If that failed, he looked for a window, or a hole, or a crack he could get through. He didn't allow the impossible to deter him, so ultimately, anything was possible. He didn't perceive any step as backward, progress just took different directions. He seemed to see everything as moving him forward, even when it appeared to be a setback.
That is a whole different way of looking at life, and I think that it is one I can embrace. I cannot overlook the very real problems I face, and I can't pretend there aren't serious consequences, as though that doesn't matter. But at each fork in the road of my life, I have always done the best I could, and I can't go back and change that, even with better information in hindsight. Because, in the end, I always did what I believed to be the right thing.
I can set goals, and I can reach for the possible, because I know it can happen, and I have seen the proof. I can reframe the difficulties I face with humor - I have done it before, and I can do it again. I can look forward to what will be someday, and set my eyes on the mountaintop, rather than focusing on the mountainside, where you see all the rocks and the ridges that have to be overcome.
The interesting thing I have learned about heroes is that they rarely perceive themselves that way. They don't usually see what they have done as exceptional or as special. Instead, they generally see their actions as the only possible course, or as the right thing to do. They are often surprised to hear that they have affected someone else, and they are generally modest about the role they played in the situation.
But to me, Shant is a hero, not for going to Iraq, not even for surviving the ordeal, but because he is willing to open up his life story and allow others, like me, to benefit from his hard won experiences. I don't know if Shant believes in superstitions like four leaf clovers for luck, but he did say that he thought he used up all his bad luck early, so now, he has nothing but good luck to balance out.
Shant will never know me or how he has affected my attitude or my ability to cope, but for me, hearing Shant speak last night was the best luck I've had in awhile. [And I didn't even have to touch his hem to get it, so perhaps he really can spread his good fortune by osmosis!] I hope that maybe this will be the start of some overdue balance in my own life. Maybe one of these days, I will even find my sense of humor again. When I do, you'll be the first to know, because I have a lot of stuff that I'm eager to reframe and find funny.
In the meantime, excuse me while I go touch a rabbit's foot for luck. His name is Gershwin, and he is residing in my daughter's bedroom, so I don't have to go very far to find him. And he likes to eat clover, so perhaps he's going to bring double luck for me.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Strange bedfellows
I actually had to laugh out loud today, because I was surprised by the realization that even in the blog commentary world, a divided and often vitriolic crowd, at best, there actually are some things upon which everyone can agree. I was reading the comments on a CNN item regarding the nominated Senator from Illinois, Roland Burris, and was rather amazed to see the usually partisan crowd coming together to jointly respond to one poster for his raving remarks.
I am not talking about remarks regarding the CNN item, which were, in fact, also surprisingly similar from both sides of the aisle. Let's just say if Harry Reid was running for anything that required a national vote, I think it's safe to say he would not be elected for dog catcher. And my apologies to the dog catchers out there. I don't know why I am slandering them by the comparison.
I am not even referring to comments about Burris, which I am guessing were largely based on ire with the governor instead of differences with the man himself.
The thing that got my attention were the somewhat patronizing, and yet I think largely sincere, expressions of concern for one particular poster, who is, from all appearances, completely crazy. His post was misspelled and rambling, and didn't really make any sense at all. [That was not a partisan crack, by the way, although you often find those kinds of comments on the message boards.] This person is obviously a brick or two shy of the full load, and someone dropped the wheelbarrow, to boot. About every other comment after that referred to that poster, and his need for help of some kind.
It is nice to know that even in the hate-filled world of cyberspace, people do seem to care, when it comes right down to it. I know there were some that were simply tossing pot shots in his direction. It is cyberspace, after all. But I'll be honest, none of them really had that feel. Virtually everyone encouraged him to get help in various ways, a phenomenon I have never before witnessed on those boards.
It is, somehow, affirming to me to see that people do, when the situation is extreme enough, stop their own ranting and raving, and recognize another person in genuine need. We are inundated with stories of horrific happenings, usually carried out while witnesses run away or turn away or simply fail to do anything at all. We are exposed to a constant barrage of hate from the news to the video games to the movies and the books we read. We are told, seemingly endlessly, that the world is a harsh, cruel place that will eat you up and spit you out, without a single care or concern for anyone that gets in the way.
And then, I pull up this item, expecting a forum of the usual commentary, and am surprised to find that the online minds are all at the same party. I was totally unprepared for this, and am not sure if there is a larger meaning to it, or not. But it was nice to see people agreeing on anything, in this rather self-indulgent, my way or the highway culture we have grown into.
I am not sure if we can take that small moment and extrapolate anything from it, or if it was a simple quirk of fate that will not be repeated. I don't know if it was a harbinger of quieter, more peaceable times to come, or not.
But the tone and tenor of the other comments on the board, the ones that were aimed at the actual piece on Burris, changed after the post by Griff. People were suddenly more focused about the subject of their ire, and they directed it, for the most part, not at Burris, or even the wayward and incorrigible governor who nominated him, but rather towards the members of the Senate who are not only holding up his seating, but also playing "Mother May I" instead of working on the real problems being faced by this country.
Is it possible that the low approval ratings of the Congress, [an interesting factoid here, the 11% of the population that thinks Congress is doing a good or excellent job in the most recent poll is actually lower than the most recent approval rating of 13% for said governor, who has just been impeached by his own legislature,] may, in fact, result in a sort of ad hoc temper tantrum by the general populace? One in which people finally demand real representation from their elected officials, instead of the pork barrel lip service that has passed for Congressional action up to now? The Presidential race is not the only one which merits attention, even if it is the one that gets the most media play. We ignore the Congressional races at our own cost, and if we do, we deserve what we get.
Before the president-elect is even sworn into office, this newly minted Congress is already on the verge of making itself completely irrelevant. Their leadership is ineffective, the public is fed up with the games and the corruption and the money and the power being used for the good of the few at the cost of the many.
The majority of the voters in this country, over 50%, voted for something different. Change was not just a campaign slogan for them - it was real, definite, and non-negotiable. That 11% approval rating is not a joke, although we may get a giggle at the fact that even Blogojevich can exceed it - it means that most people on every side of the aisle are unhappy, and that is the basis for real change.
So what then, do we make of bloggers commenting in sync, people from the right and the left all asking for the same thing? Whether it's a demand to stop messing around and seat the legally, if irritatingly, nominated senator, [as any good parent will tell you, never make threats you cannot carry through, he called your bluff, now you need to get over it and MOVE FORWARD,] so they can get on with the work they were elected to do, or to encourage an obviously unhappy and needy person to get help instead of rambling away on a message board, I see change afoot. The strange bedfellows we find in the political bedstead may just be us.
Cheers!
I am not talking about remarks regarding the CNN item, which were, in fact, also surprisingly similar from both sides of the aisle. Let's just say if Harry Reid was running for anything that required a national vote, I think it's safe to say he would not be elected for dog catcher. And my apologies to the dog catchers out there. I don't know why I am slandering them by the comparison.
I am not even referring to comments about Burris, which I am guessing were largely based on ire with the governor instead of differences with the man himself.
The thing that got my attention were the somewhat patronizing, and yet I think largely sincere, expressions of concern for one particular poster, who is, from all appearances, completely crazy. His post was misspelled and rambling, and didn't really make any sense at all. [That was not a partisan crack, by the way, although you often find those kinds of comments on the message boards.] This person is obviously a brick or two shy of the full load, and someone dropped the wheelbarrow, to boot. About every other comment after that referred to that poster, and his need for help of some kind.
It is nice to know that even in the hate-filled world of cyberspace, people do seem to care, when it comes right down to it. I know there were some that were simply tossing pot shots in his direction. It is cyberspace, after all. But I'll be honest, none of them really had that feel. Virtually everyone encouraged him to get help in various ways, a phenomenon I have never before witnessed on those boards.
It is, somehow, affirming to me to see that people do, when the situation is extreme enough, stop their own ranting and raving, and recognize another person in genuine need. We are inundated with stories of horrific happenings, usually carried out while witnesses run away or turn away or simply fail to do anything at all. We are exposed to a constant barrage of hate from the news to the video games to the movies and the books we read. We are told, seemingly endlessly, that the world is a harsh, cruel place that will eat you up and spit you out, without a single care or concern for anyone that gets in the way.
And then, I pull up this item, expecting a forum of the usual commentary, and am surprised to find that the online minds are all at the same party. I was totally unprepared for this, and am not sure if there is a larger meaning to it, or not. But it was nice to see people agreeing on anything, in this rather self-indulgent, my way or the highway culture we have grown into.
I am not sure if we can take that small moment and extrapolate anything from it, or if it was a simple quirk of fate that will not be repeated. I don't know if it was a harbinger of quieter, more peaceable times to come, or not.
But the tone and tenor of the other comments on the board, the ones that were aimed at the actual piece on Burris, changed after the post by Griff. People were suddenly more focused about the subject of their ire, and they directed it, for the most part, not at Burris, or even the wayward and incorrigible governor who nominated him, but rather towards the members of the Senate who are not only holding up his seating, but also playing "Mother May I" instead of working on the real problems being faced by this country.
Is it possible that the low approval ratings of the Congress, [an interesting factoid here, the 11% of the population that thinks Congress is doing a good or excellent job in the most recent poll is actually lower than the most recent approval rating of 13% for said governor, who has just been impeached by his own legislature,] may, in fact, result in a sort of ad hoc temper tantrum by the general populace? One in which people finally demand real representation from their elected officials, instead of the pork barrel lip service that has passed for Congressional action up to now? The Presidential race is not the only one which merits attention, even if it is the one that gets the most media play. We ignore the Congressional races at our own cost, and if we do, we deserve what we get.
Before the president-elect is even sworn into office, this newly minted Congress is already on the verge of making itself completely irrelevant. Their leadership is ineffective, the public is fed up with the games and the corruption and the money and the power being used for the good of the few at the cost of the many.
The majority of the voters in this country, over 50%, voted for something different. Change was not just a campaign slogan for them - it was real, definite, and non-negotiable. That 11% approval rating is not a joke, although we may get a giggle at the fact that even Blogojevich can exceed it - it means that most people on every side of the aisle are unhappy, and that is the basis for real change.
So what then, do we make of bloggers commenting in sync, people from the right and the left all asking for the same thing? Whether it's a demand to stop messing around and seat the legally, if irritatingly, nominated senator, [as any good parent will tell you, never make threats you cannot carry through, he called your bluff, now you need to get over it and MOVE FORWARD,] so they can get on with the work they were elected to do, or to encourage an obviously unhappy and needy person to get help instead of rambling away on a message board, I see change afoot. The strange bedfellows we find in the political bedstead may just be us.
Cheers!
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