It’s been a busy time in the news as of late here in the U.S. The war in Iraq has captured headlines again with the recent passing of a morbid milestone: the 4,000th U.S. casualty since the beginning of the war. The battle for the Democratic nomination for president between Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama is still going strong, and has opened up a heated debate surrounding race relations in this country. I even have some news of my own to report which will be revealed farther down this page to those of you who read carefully. I’d love to write in depth about each of the news items I’ve mentioned above, and perhaps I will at a later time, but right now I’m so involved in the controversy that’s playing out in my very own township that I chose to focus my attention solely upon that for the moment.
Below you will find a letter that I’ve written and will send to the editors of my local newspapers in hopes that it will be printed and raise awareness concerning the local school budget and referendum that will be voted upon April 15. The budget and referendum have already been defeated in previous elections, and April 15 is the last time it will be voted on. Our schools have become overcrowded and have been using temporary “trailers” of sorts to accommodate the number of children attending. The time limit on these “trailers” has expired and new additions to the school must be built. I explain in detail below what is likely to happen if the township is unable to build additions on to the school.
I’ve decided to include this letter as part of my writing for this site because class sizes and quality of education is something that affects all children no matter where they live and attend school. In addition, I’ve touched on doing something about issues one feels strongly about in the past, and while writing a letter to a newspaper isn’t exactly the same as holding some sort of protest march, it’s certainly more than doing nothing, and is something that I hope will change at least one person’s mind.
So, without any further introduction, I present to you my letter to the editor:
I hope that by now many, if not all of you are aware of the annual school budget and referendum that was rejected by popular vote on March 11. I was disheartened by the outcome of this election, yet remain stubbornly optimistic because we, as voting residents of our community are being given another opportunity to make our voices heard and quite simply put, to do what’s right. I have a son attending the elementary school and am currently expecting another that will go through the school system here in our township. As a parent, I cannot put enough emphasis on the importance of getting out to the polls on April 15 and voting to pass the budget and referendum. Even those of us who don’t have children or whose children are grown can surely understand how vital this vote is to the education of our children once the negative ramifications of not doing so are understood.
Not only is a strong educational background the best gift we can give to our children to prepare them for life, but it is the best investment we can make in the future of our community, because our children are our future. I know that there are many within the community voting solely with their pocketbooks, and I can understand that considering the current state of our economy. I am not oblivious to the economic aspects of voting to pass the budget and referendum, but rather I would like to contend that a dollar amount cannot be placed upon the value and importance of the education of our children.
If the budget is not passed on April 15 it is likely that a large number of positions will be eliminated. These positions include music, art, science, foreign language, and physical education teachers. The cuts would also include nursing staff and special education staff. If these programs were to be cut or reduced it would leave our students at a severe disadvantage academically when compared with children enjoying these programs in other districts. Full day Kindergarten classes would also be replaced with half day sessions, and all field trips would be eliminated as well.
If this scenario does not seem dire in and of itself, consider then, what will happen if the referendum is not passed. There is the possibility of field day and hot lunches being eliminated, but most disturbingly would be the effect on class sizes. Classes that currently have 22 students could be increased to 39 students. One teacher, no matter how amazing he or she may be, simply cannot give the attention and quality of education to a class of 39 that the students require. Smaller class sizes allow for more individualized attention and better overall classroom atmosphere, result in fewer distractions and less noise, provides an opportunity for teachers to know the students better and recognize each child’s needs, have fewer discipline problems allowing teachers to focus on education rather than discipline, and allows for more educational content to be covered. Larger class sizes are inherently more chaotic, and increase the possibility that children will be lacking in education simply because the proper amount of time cannot be spent guiding and instructing them.
I find it really hard to believe, but it’s that time of the year again already. I suppose it shouldn’t be that much of a shock to me as I’m fully prepared for the Christmas festivities. The tree has been up and decorated since very early in December, and the gifts have all been purchased and wrapped for over a week now. All that’s left to do is a bit of house cleaning before the swarms of family and friends come knocking at the door, and in all reality, mountains of baking, but I’m trying to downplay that in my head. I’ve got a cake, two quiches, and dozens upon dozens of cookies, plus homemade cranberry sauce to whip up this weekend, but I’m trying to convince myself that it’s not all that much so I don’t overwhelm myself at the prospect before I’ve even set foot in the kitchen. I do have all of the required ingredients necessary for the two-day marathon I’m likely to spend in my kitchen, so at least I’m sort of prepared. That’s what I’m telling myself, anyway.
So, in spite of the fact that I’ve done everything I could possibly to do prepare for Christmas up until this point, there’s always a bunch of stuff that has to be put off until almost the last minute, and being the obsessive planner that I am, this always wreaks havoc with my state of mind in the few days leading up to the big day. I become cranky and stressed out and pretty much just unpleasant to be around, which as it happens is the opposite of everyone else’s demeanor and the antithesis of the joy and peace we’re all supposed to be experiencing this time of the year.
It doesn’t seem to help matters much that I’m already approaching this Christmas with mixed emotions. As we get older, Christmas loses much of that sparkle and wonder it held for us when we were younger, that is, until you have children of your own and are granted another foray into the excitement by watching your own children overjoyed. This year I’ve been stricken by the horrible realization that my vicarious enjoyment of Christmas via my son may be slipping through my fingers. I have to accept the very real likelihood that this is liable to be the last Christmas that my seven-year-old son believes in Santa Claus, and when he no longer holds this childhood belief, some of the magic surrounding the holidays will dissipate for us.
I remember when I stopped believing in Santa, though I was nine that Christmas, but kids grow up much quicker now than they did back then. My dad, who is tough and stoic, was actually reduced to tears when I announced that I knew that there was no such thing as Santa Claus. It was a realization for my parents that I was no longer a little child, and it changed Christmas for me as well. I knew then that presents didn’t magically appear Christmas morning having been brought in the night by Santa and placed under the tree, but rather were put there by my parents who waited patiently until I was sound asleep.
In many ways my son is still a baby to me, but it’s becoming more evident every day that he’s growing up quickly. He still snuggles in my lap with me at night reading a book or watching television, but he doesn’t allow me to kiss him in front of his friends when I put him on the school bus in the morning. With every day that passes I become a little less panicked when he comes home from school, but doesn’t question the validity of Santa Claus. He’s only got one and a half school days left after today, and I fervently hope that some other child doesn’t spoil it for him this year. I just want him (and myself) to have one more magical Christmas.
Of course I still hold out a secret hope that we’ll have next year too, but I’m not pinning my hopes on it. Currently my son attends a school for kindergarten through second grade, but next year he enters the intermediate school, which goes all the way up to sixth grade. In a school where he’s mingling with twelve year olds, it’s very unlikely that he’ll make it through December without being told that there is no Santa Claus. I should feel fortunate he hasn’t questioned it yet this year, as just yesterday my sister told me that her boyfriend’s six year old daughter asked if Santa was real, because her eight year old brother has told her repeatedly that he’s not. For now she still believes, but that belief is very precarious at the moment; the doubt has already been planted. If you’ve got little ones, enjoy every second of holiday magic you can while it’s still there; I certainly intend to make the most of it this year.
I’m aware that filmmaker Michael Moore isn’t exactly the most popular person in some circles, and that’s stating it mildly. He’s fairly well known for his documentaries, most notably “Fahrenheit 9/11” and “Bowling for Columbine.” I enjoyed both of those films immensely, in spite of the fact that they were documentaries. Michael Moore has a way of presenting material that could otherwise be dry and less than inspiring in a very in your face, tongue-in-cheek, comedic manner. So unless you have the incredible misfortune of being part of the topic matter for one of these films, it’s a winning situation because it brings information on relevant and current topics to an audience that may not have had the chance to delve into the subjects at hand so deeply otherwise.
Because I found Moore’s previous films so interesting and entertaining, I decided to rent his most recent film, “Sicko,” which deals with the topic of healthcare in the United States. I was a bit skeptical, because I couldn’t imagine how he’d possibly be able to make this topic interesting, but he has far succeeded my expectations. Not only was the film entertaining, but I learned a great deal about not only the healthcare system here, but in other countries as well.
Unlike most other Western nations, the United States does not have a national healthcare system, so we either receive health insurance through our employers, or must go out and purchase it on our own, as all employers do not offer insurance. As it stood at the time the film was made, there were 50 million Americans without any health insurance, and 18,000 of those will die this year simply because they are uninsured and are unable to afford to seek medical help. This does not mean that the 250,000 who are insured are able to receive the care they need, and in fact, the insurance companies will do everything in their power to make it more difficult for them to do so. I know this sounds like pure fiction, but former employees at the nation’s largest HMO’s have shared their stories, and have testified that unfortunately it’s all too true.
There are stories of car accident victims being told by their insurance that their ambulance ride to the hospital would not be covered because it was not pre-approved. Hopefully the absurdity in that logic is abundantly clear. Chances are if you are ill or injured enough to need an ambulance, you do not have the time nor the means to make a phone call to your insurance company first. People are routinely rejected from acquiring insurance coverage based on their height and weight (their BMI), or because they have a condition that happens to be on the industry’s mile long list of pre-existing conditions that makes them ineligible for coverage.
If you are lucky enough to be approved for coverage, you often have to fight to get the treatment you need. Healthcare is a business here, and as in most businesses it all comes down to saving the company money, and money is saved by not approving treatments that patients need. Former employees of the largest HMO’s have come forward with the information that there are required denial rate percentages, and that the doctor working for the HMO who issued the highest percentage of denials actually receives a bonus for doing so. I guess the Hippocratic Oath gets thrown by the wayside when there is money to be made. A former medical reviewer for Humana testified that she denied medical treatment that resulted in a man’s death, and this insured her advancement in the field. She went on further to say that the main goal where she was employed was to use your medical expertise to benefit the company, and was told that she was not denying care, but rather simply denying payment. Unfortunately for most, denying payment is denying care, because most Americans cannot afford the over-inflated prices without insurance. Isn’t that why people have insurance in the first place? So that you have what you need when you become ill?
Back when Bill Clinton was president and Hillary was the first lady she wanted to make healthcare for everyone her main priority, but Washington wanted absolutely nothing to do with it, and hated her and her plan, dubbing it “socialistic,” which of course scared people, and as you can imagine, that was the end of that. Hillary’s greatest opponent just may have been the HMO’s, spending $100 million to ensure that her plan was defeated.
Meanwhile, the United States is ranked #37 in the world in healthcare, just ahead of Slovenia, and boasts the highest infant mortality rate in the Western world. This information should be like a blinking, neon sign alerting us that our system is broken and needs to be overhauled, but unfortunately it seems that no one can see it. Canadians, our neighbors to the north have a national health system, and in spite of how bad our government tries to make their system look, it seems it’s simply untrue. Canadians live three years longer than Americans do, and that speaks for itself. Across the ocean, the national healthcare systems in both France and Great Britain were analyzed in the film, and among those who were interviewed, neither the patients nor the doctors had a bad word to say about it, conversely, most openly praised the services they receive.
Admittedly, I haven’t exactly been abreast of current events taking place in the world for the past week or so, as I have been in Florida soaking up the sun and seeing the sights. Whenever I have managed to catch a few minutes of television or radio though, the headlines seemed to be dominated either by the OJ Simpson case, which I have absolutely no interest in, or the race for the democratic candidacy for the presidential elections next year.
I have never been overly involved or taken a very keen interest in politics, but it seems the older I get and the worse the state of the world in general becomes, the more I feel the need to stay educated in order to make informed decisions when it’s time to visit the polls. I’m a democrat, so it’s no surprise that I’ll be voting that way in 2008, but all of the fuss in the news lately has been over the somewhat controversial front-runner, Hillary Clinton, whom I intend to support.
Everyone seems to have an opinion, ranging from unabashed gushing over Hillary Clinton, and the idea of having a female candidate for the presidency that has a tangible chance of winning, to utter disgust, hate, and uncertainties over whether a woman would make a suitable president. There seems to be no middle ground on this topic.
The story that has been dominating the news waves, however, revolves around gender issues, which I find rather peculiar. One would think that in this day and age, people would pretty much be over all of that and would be able to just get on with it, but that is clearly not the case. Clinton is being criticized no matter which way she tries to play the game. Some say she should capitalize on the fact that she is a woman that could become our nation’s first female president, as there is a very large sector of the population that would love to see that happen. Others say she should not use the fact that she is a woman either as a crutch or to her advantage, as it somehow takes away her credibility. It would almost make laugh if it weren’t so ridiculous. How, exactly, is Hilary Clinton to run, if not as a woman? She IS a woman, and whether you are for or against her, it is a fact that cannot be changed. Watching her run as anything other than a woman would be a bizarre thing to behold.
In my opinion, Clinton should embrace the fact that she is a woman (I’m not saying she’s done anything otherwise, just commenting on people’s misguided opinions on the subject.) in the position she is in, and the rest of us should do the same. If we are going to elect a female president, I really doubt we’d want her to try to emulate the men who came before her. If she is elected, it will be because the country is looking for the changes she is capable of making, and the fresh approach toward things she will bring into office with her.
So as it stands now, it appears we won’t be able to take gender out of the campaign for the presidency, and while there have been loads of negative things said about that fact, some think it could work out to her benefit with female voters. Ann Selzer, who is a pollster, stated that it was possible that female voters would bond with Clinton after watching the male candidates “gang up on her,” and be able to relate that to their own experiences of being a woman in what still is essentially a man’s world. After watching a recap of the Philadelphia debate, one woman was even quoted as saying “They were so mean and nasty to Hillary…It made me like her even more.”
While this kind of thing may be helping her gain some extra votes from the female population, it’s probably leaving a bad taste in the mouths of some. Clinton has had to go on the defensive publicly to state that she wasn’t being ganged up on because she is a woman, but because she is the front-runner at the moment, and that’s just the way things work in political campaigning and debates, regardless of gender.
There is also the matter of Clinton’s very famous and popular husband, former president Bill Clinton, being involved in her campaigning. Those who dislike Hillary are saying that she is trying to ride her husband’s coattails into office, and that being a first lady and simply watching her husband in the role of president does not give her any more experience than the other candidates. Bill Clinton has also publicly defended Hillary, and I have to agree that this is a bad idea, as it makes her appear weak and as if she needs her high-profile husband to stick up for her, and in reality, it couldn’t be further from the truth. Hillary is tough in her own right, and can surely fight her own battles, as she has done in the past.
It may be October, the month in which a lot of attention is focused on fighting breast cancer, but lately it seems that every time I turn around I’m seeing or reading something about cervical cancer, and the relatively new vaccine touted to prevent a few types of that cancer. I see commercials for the vaccine in regular rotation on television, there are articles either praising it or condemning it, it’s discussed on talk shows, and posters promoting it are plastered all over the walls of my son’s pediatrician’s office.
I really couldn’t understand why so much attention was being given to this vaccine. It’s a vaccine that can prevent cancer, and surely that can only be a good thing. After reading up on the vaccine a bit more and giving it a little more thought, I realized what all of the debate was really about. It’s not about the small majority of people who think all vaccines are bad and harmful and refuse to have their children immunized against anything, but its people, for the most part, that have had their daughters immunized against rubella, smallpox, tuberculosis and the like.
First, let me give you a little more information about the vaccine called Gardasil. The vaccine is manufactured by Merck Pharmaceutical, and you can read more about it at the pharmaceutical company’s site promoting the drug at
http://www.gardasil.com/. In a nutshell though, the vaccine is targeted at girls and young women between the ages of 9 and 26, and is supposed to guard against diseases caused by 4 different types of human papillomavirus, or HPV. HPV can lead to cervical cancer, abnormalities of the cervix that can lead to cancer and genital warts. The pharmaceutical company is careful to point out that the vaccine does not prevent all types of cervical cancer, and urges women to continue to get regular screenings. The side effects of the vaccination are no different than those of most other vaccinations. Surely a vaccine that can prevent any type of cancer must be a wonderful, positive thing, and parents should be lining up at doctor’s office with their daughters in order to get one, right? In a lot of places, and for a lot of people, that statement couldn’t be more off the mark.
One of the more rational arguments against the vaccination that I’ve heard is simply that the vaccine is so new, and because of this, no one can know for sure about any long term effects or negative reactions or outcomes, and because of this are hesitant to vaccinate their daughters until a little more is known. This makes sense to me, but the vaccine is approved by the FDA, and I’m sure extensive testing was done, but it’s one of those questions that does tend to make one rather uneasy.
The more irrational argument surrounding the issue has to do with the fact that the vaccine prevents cervical cancers caused by HPV. HPV is an infection that is transmitted via sexual contact, and affects both men and women. Most people show no symptoms of HPV when infected, and in some cases it clears on its own. According the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention more than 20 million people in the United States alone were infected with HPV in 2005. The problem, of course, is that some parents find it difficult morally to take their daughters to get vaccinated against something transmitted through sexual activity. Certainly no parent would want to think of their little girl growing up and becoming a sexual being, but it is going to happen, and even if she were to stay chaste until marriage, there is still no guarantee that she wouldn’t be infected if her husband had previous sexual encounters. This whole approach just seems like parents would rather bury their heads in the sand than to face reality, and what is inevitably going to occur, no matter how much they wish it were not so.
Even parents who are able to come to grips with the fact that their daughters will not remain virgins forever struggle with the idea that somehow, allowing them to be vaccinated against something transmitted through sexual contact is sending the message that it’s ok to be promiscuous. The same argument has been used by some groups against handing out condoms, but the fact of the matter is that teens are going to have sex, and surely it must be better to protect them from infections, especially ones that can cause cancer, than to leave them vulnerable to them?
The issue of young women and sex is almost a taboo topic. Especially in certain parts of the country where religion is deeply rooted in the culture, the subject is not even contemplated except to say that girls should abstain from sex, and it’s left at that. There was even a senator from California who claimed that cervical cancer was a result of lifestyle choices and not a genetic disposition, and because of this money would be better spent finding vaccines for other types of cancer. This essentially presents the argument that good girls don’t get cervical cancer, and only the “loose” ones do. Even some of the so-called good girls experiment with sex, and it only takes one time to become infected, and it doesn’t even require intercourse for transmission, genital contact is all it takes.
“I'm in my bed, and I sleep like a baby,With no regrets and I don't mind saying,It's a sad, sad storyThat a mother will teach her daughterThat she ought to hate a perfect stranger.And how in the worldCan the words that I saidSend somebody so over the edgeThat they'd write me a letterSaying that I better shut up and singOr my life will be over?”--The Dixie Chicks
Whilst sitting contemplating a suitable topic for my latest commentary, I thought back to my previous commentary. Though it seems like it was written ages ago, I have not forgotten the pledge I made to myself to attempt to write more often about worthwhile subjects that are of importance to me. Oddly enough, what I’ve chosen to write about for this installment ties in with what I last wrote, albeit in a roundabout sort of way.
As some of you may remember, I wrote about activism, and in particular, the use of music in social activism. Music has, historically, been used as a powerful tool to both educate people on problems in society, and in some events, has motivated listeners to actually become involved and do something. Today I’ve decided to write about a group of musicians, who were rather unwillingly cast into the realm of politics on a national level. They became crusaders for a basic right, the right to speak freely without fear of punishment, without ever setting out to do anything of the sort in the first place.
This was a rather unusual predicament, to be sure, but nonetheless, it is the one in which the popular female country group, the Dixie Chicks, found themselves embroiled in back in 2003. I am not now, nor have I ever been a fan of country music, but as those of you who are familiar with the group at all know, the Dixie Chicks aren’t exactly what first comes to mind when you think of typical country crooners. The Dixie Chicks are a group of thirty-something women who not only write music and play their own instruments, but are also pretty easy on the eyes as an added bonus. The group became wildly popular with country music fans, and made the unusual leap across the line into the mainstream pop genre, being accepted with open arms by both. That was, until that one fateful night in London’s Shepherds Bush Empire on March 10, 2003.
Allow me briefly, to set the stage for the event that was to eventually cause a controversy so enormous, it took the group years to dig themselves out from under it. The Dixie Chicks, now the top-selling all-female group in the history of music, had just embarked upon their “Top of the World” tour. During this time, the media was awash with reports of “weapons of mass destruction” in Iraq as a justification to go to war. There was a massive anti-war rally held in London while the group was there, denouncing America’s plan for war. Public opinion of America abroad was shifting dramatically because of new foreign policies, and plans for attack that would ultimately drag our allies into war with us.
Natalie Maines, the lead singer for the Dixie Chicks, while at their show in London, probably in an attempt to let the British fans know that all Americans didn’t support President Bush’s foreign policies, uttered the words that would plague her and her band mates for years to come. On stage, Maines said the following to the crowd of Londoners: “Just so you know, we’re on the good side with y’all. We do not want this war, this violence, and we’re ashamed that the President of the United States is from Texas.” Tensions were so high back in the States at the time, and patriotism ran so deep after the attacks on September 11, 2001, it was as if what Maines had said was like the shot heard round the world. The quote was printed by The Guardian in England, and was subsequently picked up by the Associated Press, and from there found it’s way into every newspaper and every televised news program in America. People in the USA, particularly the right-wing conservative sect within this country, were absolutely aghast and outraged.
The Dixie Chicks were almost immediately dropped from rotation on country radio stations, and listeners were even encouraged by the stations to come and throw out their albums in special trash cans provided just for that purpose by them. People were told not to buy their new album, and their current #1 hit “Traveling Soldier” disappeared from the music charts. It was as if the country radio stations, being traditionally right-wing, as the majority of the Southern US states are had gotten together and decided to enact revenge on the Dixie Chicks for voicing an opinion that differed from their own.
In an effort to try to control the fallout, which was quickly spinning out of control, a statement was issued from Natalie Maines explaining that the comment was made in reference to the disappointment and frustration she felt as a US citizen for being ignored. No amount of spin was going to even come close to swaying public opinion, however; largely because of the political climate in the country at the time. Maines apologized in a television interview with Diane Sawyer for having said that, but also said that she wasn’t sorry for speaking out. Half-hearted apologies aside, the Dixie Chicks were now being touted as anti-American, and even as communists. President Bush even weighed in on the issue stating that the Dixie Chicks were free to speak their minds, but shouldn’t have their feelings hurt when people don’t buy their albums, because freedom of speech is a two-way street.
There are a couple of very important issues at play here, which probably don’t appear all that obvious, but are relevant nonetheless. The first is the role of musicians, and actors as well, in politics. Should we as a country become so bent out of shape over a comment made by a singer, one that she herself admitted was said in a joking manner to get a reaction from the crowd? Do we take ourselves that seriously, and should we be so quick to crucify someone whose opinion differs from our own in any way? Natalie Maines and the Dixie Chicks seem to have been made a scapegoat for every person in the country that opposed President Bush and his war. It was almost as if it were a cautionary tale being played out in the public eye. That leads directly into the more important issue of freedom of speech. Whether it was an average citizen, a film star, or as in this case a musician who made the comment, did it really warrant such a drastic response? The banning of the Dixie Chicks by the radio stations sent out a message to people that could lead them to believe that they should not express their views. The Dixie Chicks did, and look what happened to them. People were hell-bent on punishing them by ruining their careers, and there were even suggestions by some groups that they should leave the country. Seems a bit extreme, doesn’t it? These women were law-abiding citizens, who God forbid, dared to voice their opinions. Because of the way the Dixie Chicks were treated, people who were in opposition to the war were made to feel threatened. How many people do you think were willing to openly voice dissent while the storm surrounding the group was raging on? I’d wager that there weren’t many.
This country was founded upon the right to speak freely, and if people throughout our history were not brave enough to do so, who knows where we’d be now. The right to think freely and to express those thoughts breeds new ideas and change, and even progress. The problem seems to be that those in positions of power in this country are opposed to change, because change does not benefit them, and will do whatever they can to stifle dissenting opinions to save themselves. In the process, our rights as American citizens are being stepped upon, and we should not allow ourselves to be manipulated in that way.
Natalie Maines and the Dixie Chicks were unwilling activists, but activists nonetheless. They dared to speak their minds and opinions, and stood by those opinions even in the face of damaging consequences. They should be applauded for being so steadfast, and hopefully, if enough people were paying attention, for being a living, breathing example of our freedom of speech.
And for the record, when the Dixie Chicks returned to “the scene of the crime,” as it was stated tongue-in-cheek by Maines, in London in June 2006, she proudly repeated the same statement she had made three years ago, which was in turn met with wild cheers and applause from the London crowd.
“Me and all my friends, we’re all misunderstood. They say we stand for nothing, there’s no way we ever could. Now we see everything is going wrong, with the world and those who lead it. We just feel like we don’t have the means to rise above and beat it. So we keep waiting, waiting on the world to change.”
--John Mayer
While browsing through the television listings the other night a program that was about to air on PBS caught my attention. I have to admit that I don’t usually watch programs on PBS (the Public Broadcasting Service for those of you who aren’t in the know) because while I enjoy learning something whilst sitting lazily watching TV, those programs tend to be just a tad too academic for my taste. The programs usually deal things like in-depth analysis of cave paintings or how the Great Pyramid was built in a step-by-step format, as if you were going to construct one on your own. All of that aside, not having any other programs to watch that evening I decided to give PBS another try, enticed by “Get Up, Stand Up” which was a history following the role of music and musicians as activists over the past century. Happily, and to my surprise, after twenty minutes I didn’t want to change the channel, and instead found myself completely wrapped up, and ultimately compelled. Compelled to do something, or say something, about what in particular I wasn’t sure. Then it occurred to me. The something I needed to say something about was simply doing something in general. Tricky line of thought. Follow me on that one??
I’m really not in any position to make comments on the topic of doing something rather than sitting idly by. My intent is most certainly not to come across as preachy, and if I do, be assured that I am the target of this “sermon” as much as any of you may be. No, I’m not going to suggest we all become little Bob Dylans or Neil Youngs penning songs that allow the world to hear us and if successful (wildly successful in the case of Dylan and Young) be moved to action. Rather, I would like to suggest that each of us probably possesses some sort of talent or gift that can be used to raise awareness for causes we feel passionately about in the hopes that someone will hear us and the process of change can begin.
I’m sure there are some of you who are rolling your eyes right about now, and maybe rightfully so, but I’m an idealist (well, most of the time anyway) and I can’t help but to think that people are good at heart, want to do good, and want to contribute to causes that could make the world a better place for all of us.
The level of complacency we’ve all become consumed with astonishes me. It seems as though we either don’t care, don’t pay attention, or a combination of the two. Some of us may be daunted by the sheer scope of many of the issues and fall into the pattern of thinking that one person surely can’t be able to accomplish anything worthwhile. If we all think that way though, it is certain that nothing will ever be accomplished. We think our votes don’t matter, so large numbers of us never even make it out to the polls on election day, so votes are never cast that could have the potential to change the outcomes of elections. People are slack on recycling because they think just one tin or bottle in a landfill won’t make any difference, so large numbers of us don’t recycle the odd bottle here or there, and the need for new landfills arises. We pass by collection jars or tune out telethons for causes because we think our $5 or $10 couldn’t possibly help anyone. Can we not see the dangers in thinking this way?? Have we forgotten the strength of people in numbers, and how something seemingly insignificant can become something huge when we all participate?
In the past I’ve made a habit of writing about stuff that is on the light and easy side, which is fine. That stuff is a lot more fun to write about, and it generally comes easier, but I need to make more of an effort to write about important social and political issues that matter to me from time to time, because that is my best chance of being heard, and presents the opportunity to educate, and maybe even motivate others. Sometimes simply writing about something can motivate me to learn and do more because I become so angry and frustrated with the topic. I was very proud of myself for writing the piece on global warming, because although it wasn’t easy to write, and definitely didn’t make for easy reading, I was able to state what was on my mind regarding an issue I feel strongly about, and was fortunate enough to have an audience to relate those thoughts to.
People like Bob Marley and Bob Geldoff wrote songs and organized concerts in order to be heard and motivate others because that’s where their gifts were and where opportunity presented itself for them. It’s a genius maneuver to use one’s fame and talents as ways to educate others on important topics, because in the end who is likely to be heard by a larger audience: the person who holds a concert in support of a cause, or the academic who writes a dissertation about it? That one’s a no-brainer as far as I’m concerned. I won’t insult your intelligence by suggesting what you could do, because each of you knows what you are best at, and what issues you are actually concerned enough with to do something, even just a small something, about. All I ask is that you try to avoid getting caught up in the thinking that what you do couldn’t make a difference, because it is simply untrue.
In a moment of mindless internet browsing, I stumbled across an article that sparked my interest. I am eternally grateful for this happenstance occurrence, because prior to this event, I had absolutely no clue as to what I was going to write about for this installment. The article I am referring to deals with what I assume to be some sort of semi-scientific survey conducted to find out what the British think of Americans.
This topic appealed to me on a number of levels, as I’ve been interested in British history and culture for quite some time now. I’m also in the midst of beginning to plan another journey out to that little corner of the world, and finally, since a large number of our readers are British or American, it seemed a winner all around.
Having gone through the school system here in The States, and studying our version of history, it’s easy to understand why the British (and in this case it wouldn’t only apply to the Brits, but to anyone who isn’t American) might be put off by us and our attitudes. I’m not a fan of sweeping generalizations, but those born and raised in the USA are in a way brought up with a sense of entitlement. History books and the mass media continually tout America as the greatest nation in the world, and portray the USA as a country of general do-gooders, and that people are just beating down our borders to try to get in because life is so much better here than it could possibly be any other place on the good, green earth.
Yes, it’s true, America has welcomed (well, more or less anyway) massive waves of immigrants over the years, and there are a lot of people who’d like to live here because they perceive the USA as a land of opportunities. This is true in some cases, and in others not, but that’s a whole different story. What I’m writing about now is how Americans are just brought up on either total ignorance of other people and cultures, or mostly misconceptions.
This lack of worldly knowledge can make it a bit sticky for the average American traveling abroad, knowing little of the place to which they are traveling, and thinking that things stateside will always be a million times better than any place they may visit beyond their own borders. I guess sometimes Americans think that the world will welcome them with open arms, and should do, simply because they are from the USA. I would suppose more than a few Americans have been rudely awakened whilst traveling when they came to realize that the citizens of many other countries hate America’s foreign policies, and will in turn hate anything that has to do with America, including, and maybe especially, American tourists.
Britain probably receives more American tourists than other European nations simply because there is no language barrier to conquer (most of the time), so it is reasonable to expect that they’d have the most to say regarding American tourists and their habits. The article described the “classic” view of the American tourist, as articulated by a university student in Glasgow as follows:
“When I think of American tourists, I think of people in front of the British Museum, yelling across large spaces to each other about how to use their digital cameras or complaining loudly in McDonald’s about how the chips taste in London versus how they taste in America.”
Ouch. Doesn’t really paint a pretty picture, does it?! Thankfully, it seems that the problem appears to lie more with large groups of Americans, rather than a couple of Americans travelling on their own. One Brit apparently summed up the general feeling stating, “A group of Yanks is loud, raucous, insular and appears to have no interest in the local culture.”
This is rather frightening when you consider that approximately only 25 percent of all Americans actually hold passports, and logic would lead to the conclusion, that since travel requires some disposable income, that these are the higher educated sector of the population, leaving Brits to wonder what sort of folks might be left behind. Brits who have visited the USA, apparently though, would be the first to tell you how pleasant and hospitable Americans are when they are own their own turf.
So what do Americans think of the British perception of American tourists?? Most admit that while some Americans might be loud, and oblivious that other cultures exist giving all American tourists a bad name, the main culprit is likely backlash from our government’s foreign policies. I’ve mentioned before that I’ve travelled to England a few times, and myself have never experienced any sort of difficulties in this realm, but if I did, I’d immediately review my behaviour in an attempt to determine if I’d done something offensive, and if not, I’d certainly chalk it up to our foreign policy.
The solution seems to be a simple one here. As long as Americans act respectful of British culture and people whilst visiting the UK, and Britons try to understand that all Americans are not responsible for our crazy foreign policies (in fact, a lot of us hate them) we should all be able to get along famously. And if you are an American travelling in Britain, don’t take it personally if you catch some slack over our policies here. Just remember our President once greeted a former Prime Minister with “Yo, Blair!” Enough said.
Moving is supposed to be an exciting time, a time of hope, promise, and new beginnings. Well, I’ve just recently moved, and in fact, am still in the process of doing so, and I’m here to tell you that it’s absolute and utter hell, and I intend to never, ever do it again. When I’ve told people that I’m moving, they always respond with “Oh, how exciting!” or some kind of congratulatory statement, but in all honesty, excitement is about the last emotion I could possibly feel at this point. The process of moving from one residence to the next has been nothing short of nightmarish each and every step of the way.
I thought that the house I’d purchased was absolutely, without a doubt, the house of my dreams. I’ve gone from that sentiment, to breaking down in tears whilst moving my furniture and yelling at my father that I hate this house and everything about it. So, how do you go from a state of total bliss and happiness to the brink of insanity and misery?? I’m so glad you’ve asked, because I’d love to tell you.
It all started on the day I was set to close on the house. You know, when you go to the lawyer and sign your name about six million times on legal documents you don’t really understand. If that alone isn’t stress-inducing enough, I’d found that my so-called dream house wasn’t quite exactly as I’d pictured it. It all looked perfect and pretty on the surface, but once the former residents had moved their stuff out, everything that was hidden by pictures on the wall and strategically placed furniture was left out in the open, and I have to tell you, it was not pretty. There were holes in the walls, and I’m not talking about little holes here folks. Some of the holes were big enough to put your fist through (perhaps that’s how they got there in the first place?). The carpeting was stained, and in one of the rooms, there were giant holes cut out of the carpet. How or why this happened is something I will probably never know.
At this point it was made abundantly clear to me that I wasn’t simply moving my stuff in here and setting up house, but I had a long road of hard work ahead, comprised mostly of tasks that I had no clue how to tackle. My poor father has probably received more phone calls from me in the past week than he has done in the last five years. My dad is very handy, and I’m not exaggerating when I say he knows how to do pretty much everything when it comes to home repairs. Unfortunately, because he works such ridiculous hours, I couldn’t convince him to come do the repairs for me (in spite of the puppy dog eyes and brandishing the word “daddy” around a lot), so I was left to do them all by my little self. Oh, the horror.
Not only did I have repairs to make, but I also had a few significant purchases to make as well. I now needed new wall-to-wall carpeting in the rooms that had carpet (something I hadn’t budgeted for) and a washer and dryer. My parents bought the washer for me (thanks mom and dad!), so shelling out the money for the dryer was a bit less painful. The carpet was another story all together. I went to one of those big warehouse-type home improvement stores (I won’t name names, but there are really only two, so you have a fifty-fifty chance of guessing) assuming that I’d find the most reasonable price on carpet and installation there. The first clue that should have told me something was amiss was when they wanted $35 up front just to come and “professionally” measure the rooms. I went forward anyway, and when they called with their estimate a few days later I was sure I was going to vomit, and was living in some cruel, twisted parallel universe. These people wanted $2700 to install carpet in three rather smallish bedrooms. Surely this couldn’t be! I immediately hung up with the crazy carpet people and called my dad, at work. Of course I was crying, and he probably now assumes this is what I do all day, every day. Thankfully, he was able to direct me to a local place that does carpeting, and when it was all said and done, it only cost $1200! I know that sounds like a positive outcome, but the hoops I had to jump through to get to that point only added to the mounting stress levels.
Next I had to conquer the walls, before the new carpet was to be installed, because one would assume you’d want to paint before new carpet, right?? Before I could even think about choosing colors for the wall though, I had to tackle those pesky holes. So I spackled and sanded, spackled and sanded, over and over and over again, until finally the walls looked relatively blemish-free. Finally, I could put paint on the walls, and I was starting to feel like I might be in the home stretch. That feeling quickly faded as I spent two solid sleep-deprived days and nights painting, because not only did the walls have to be painted, but so did the trim, the doors, the window frames. I don’t know how many of you have gone without sleep for 48 hours, and have spent the entire time performing a tiring, monotonous task like painting, but it’s not a pretty sight, I can assure you. I essentially had paint from head to toe, I’m sure the fumes were getting to me, and as anyone who spoke with me during that time can attest, I slowly but surely turned into a raging bitch.
I got the painting finished mere hours before the carpet installers were due to arrive. Just enough time to allow the paint to dry completely. The carpet was installed uneventfully, or so I had thought, until I went back into the rooms to further inspect after they had gone, and found that the new carpet had scraped against the walls in all three rooms, requiring more painting. It only needed touch-ups mind you, but I never wanted to see a paintbrush again, and this was enough to just completely send me over the edge. So what does a girl do at a time like this?? She sits in the middle of a newly carpeted empty room and cries before sulking off to go drag out the paint cans again.
Finally, with all of the repairs and painting completed, I could move my stuff in. My dad and sister were going to help, so it should have been a piece of cake. As it turns out, the designated day to move was the hottest, most humid day of the year, and the apartment I was moving out of was on the second floor, so we had stairs to contend with. Most girls (well, at least my sister and me) lack the appropriate upper-body strength required for that sort of task, so as we lugged boxes down the stairs, struggling just to not drop them, the boxes banged repeatedly against our legs, and we are now covered with a sea of little tiny bruises, located mostly on the thighs. We made it through though, somehow, and got all of the crap moved from one place to the other.
There were a couple other little things that should have been annoyances, but because of everything else that happened turned into major issues for me. Somehow, I suppose during the move (and it doesn’t surprise me the way my sister and I moved stuff) my computer got rattled, and simply wouldn’t turn on for days. Not that it would have done me much good, because the friendly cable company wasn’t able to come out and run the line for my internet connection until yesterday. It’s amazing how lost you can end up feeling without the internet, as I’ve grown accustomed to using it every single day. There’s also the matter of not being able to find stuff in piles of still un-packed, poorly labeled boxes, and a certain six year old who constantly asks for a particular toy, shirt, or blanket, all of which I’m unable to find, and am gradually losing my mind trying to find stuff to keep him happy and occupied.
I am making progress though. I’m all moved in, above mentioned repairs are complete, I’ve scrubbed the house from top to bottom so it’s sparkling clean, and the mountain of boxes is getting smaller every day. Does the fact that I’m here now and getting settled change my opinion on the moving process?? Not a smidgeon, and I highly recommend that all of you think twice before packing up and moving. It is nearly a month long process that requires you to endure undue amounts of stress, inhumane levels of sleep-deprivation, and in my case, being essentially cut-off from the outside world (well, I had my cell phone, but still). I’ll just leave you with the all to fitting phrase that I’ve never fully understood until now: Buyer Beware!
I know I’ve written about kids a few times in some of my most recent posts, and I had kind of decided I wasn’t going to do that again anytime soon, but I’m afraid I just can’t avoid doing it this time, so please bear with me. Once I fully explain it all I’m sure you’ll understand, and hopefully pardon me, as this one is almost not as much about kids as it is about their parents.
I am writing this now, probably close to three full weeks before this commentary will be posted, because I’m so angry right now I could spit nails, and this is my best outlet to vent regarding this particular issue. Those of you who know me know that it takes quite a lot to get me that angry, and that I am one of the least confrontational people you would probably ever meet. I’m usually too shy and timid to speak up, but what happened tonight infuriated me to the point where I’m still sitting here fuming, nearly an hour after the incident occurred.
Most people with school-aged children enroll them in some kind of extracurricular sporting program so that their children can remain active, learn competitiveness and teamwork, learn a new sport, and to just simply run around and have fun like kids should. Apparently, not all parents enroll kids in sports for the same reason though, as that was made abundantly clear to me this evening.
Sports for children isn’t really about how many games they can put into the win column, and when parents put so much pressure on their kids to win, it taints the whole experience. Something is taken away from the fun, the love of sport, and the pure joy that should come along with participating in a team activity. Do kids really care all that much about winning? My son doesn’t seem to. Obviously he plays to win, but he doesn’t come home angry, pouting, or in tears when he doesn’t succeed. He was just happy to have played, and at six years old, that’s really all he should be concerned with. That’s a lesson that sports teach our children as well; that you can’t always win, and to handle a loss with dignity and composure.
Some parents, on the other hand, take their apparent need for their children to win to dangerous extremes. I’m not sure if it’s that they are trying to live vicariously through their children or something else all together, but I digress, I’m not here to psychoanalyze. I’m not talking about things getting physically violent, thank God, but rather just poor sportsmanship all around and verbal attacks. Seemingly, parents forget that their children are just across the field, probably not missing a bit of what is going on, because as I’ve learned, children don’t miss much, and are far more perceptive than we give them credit for.
I’ll try to summarize what happened tonight as succinctly as possible, as the minute details aren’t really all that important, but a little background is necessary. Games are usually held on Sundays, but there’ve been quite a few rainy Sundays in the past month or so, making make-up games a necessity. The game held tonight (Friday) was only scheduled earlier in the week, and it was impossible for some children on my son’s team to make it to the game, due to prior engagements. When game time rolled around, our team only had seven players present, while the other team seemed to have a full squad.
The coaches were mature enough to decide to allow the children to play anyway, in spite of the fact that our team was short, making the decision, mutually, to play at eight per side, permitting our team to use a player’s older brother as our goalie. The league my six year old son is in is for seven to nine year olds, and I believe the boy that played in goal was 12. All of that is fairly irrelevant though, as far as I am concerned. The main point here is that the coaches for both teams agreed to this prior to the start of the game, presumably so that the kids could play, which is what each and every one of them is there do, rather than forfeiting and going home.
Well, I can tell you it all started to turn really ugly once the other team started to lose. While it isn’t really the issue at hand, I feel the need to point out that the other team wasn’t losing because my son’s team had such a great advantage by having an older goalie, as the ball even rarely made it down to that end of the field. The parents of this team were just seemingly hell-bent on winning, and once things started to look down for them, they took the opportunity to pick and nag at every little thing they could think of. So obviously, it was being said that the goalie gave our team an unfair advantage, and that if we didn’t have enough players present we should have been forced to forfeit, in spite of the fact, that as I mentioned before, those arrangements were agreed upon prior to the start of the game.
I don’t know exactly what was said on the field that ultimately led to the game being called off, but I believe something was said between the coaches. I couldn’t tell you what it was, but I certainly wish that I knew. One of our coaches left the field with his six-year-old son under his arm, whilst the opposing team’s parents threw insults, very hurtful and totally unnecessary insults, might I add, at him. This was one of the most blatant displays of utter ugliness I have witnessed in a very long time, and it was at this point that I could no longer bite my tongue. I had kept totally quiet up until that point, but watching that little boy, who is the same age as my son, walk off the field with his head down whilst people yelled and slung insults at his father made me feel physically ill.
These were parents of children who were roughly the same age, acting this way indirectly in front of their own kids, but directly acting mean and ugly to a child’s father right in front of him. I thought about my son being put in the same position, and how he would have felt, and something in me just snapped. Before I knew what I was doing I was confronting these parents, not in a mean or nasty way, but certainly with a raised voice. What I said apparently fell on deaf ears, but I was only pointing out that they were just kids, and that everyone needed to relax and calm down. I can’t tell you how many times I repeated that they were kids, and young kids at that. It didn’t matter what I said to these parents, and it wasn’t one or two, it was nearly all of them, because they were agitated beyond the point of rationalization. It was almost as if they were feeding off of one another. They tried to keep the dialogue going with me, but I quietly waited for my son and walked off the field with him and my family, leaving the lunacy behind.
In a way, I kind of feel proud of myself for voicing an opinion I really believed in, one that came from my gut, and that for once I didn’t force myself to hold down. I’m also proud that I didn’t sink to a juvenile level; I simply stated what should have been blatantly obvious to everyone else present. On the other hand, I’m so totally ashamed of how the game ultimately ended, and the level that the parents felt the need to sink to. While neither I, nor my son was being personally attacked, I feel like I stood up for my principles, and that can make you feel unbelievably good, even if you know that what you said wasn’t really and truly heard.
“I was a kid that you would like, just a small boy on her bikeRiding topless, yeah, I never cared who saw.My neighbor come outside to say, "Get your shirt,"I said, "No way, it's the last time I'm not breaking any law."And now I'm in a clothing store, and the signs say less is moreMore that's tight means more to see, more for them, not more for meThat can't help me climb a tree in ten seconds flat.” –Dar Williams
When I was pregnant with my son, a time that seems somehow both like yesterday and a million years ago, I found myself not so secretly wishing for a girl. I rationalized this obvious bias by telling myself that I’d most certainly relate better to a little girl, having been one myself, and not to mention the fact that the little pink and ruffled outfits for baby girls are so much more fun to shop for.
Instead I was blessed with a beautiful, healthy little boy, and I wouldn’t trade him for the world. I do, though, still have moments where I lament the fact that we have soccer practices instead of ballet classes, and a room full of Thomas The Tank Engine and Matchbox Cars rather than Barbie dolls and Cabbage Patch Kids. In the mall I have to wistfully pass by endless rows of the cutest little sundresses and the like, to purchase cargo shorts and t-shirts.
Lately, however I’ve found myself wondering how I’d ever manage to properly bring up a little girl in this day and age. Boys just seem inherently easier to deal with. I know that sounds trite, but please hear me out on this one.
Some will say that boys can be more aggressive and tend to get into much more trouble than girls, but anyone who has spent any amount of time in the presence of a young girl roughly between the ages of eleven and fourteen would probably tell you that they’d take the aggression any day. It often tends to be one big, hormonal nightmare that carries on for years. When I was in that particular age range, I was an absolute horror. Sure, I’d be sweet as pie at school and with my friends, but I had knockdown, drag-out screaming matches with my mother on a fairly regular basis, usually over nothing. I wasn’t the only one either; most of my friends experienced the same sort of thing. It seems that in the transition from being a little girl to becoming a woman, it is a much more tumultuous affair than the transition from little boy to man. Yes, I’m making some generalizations here, and I’m certain that this is not always the case, but I’m speaking from my experiences.
There are issues, like the ones I mentioned above, that every parent has probably faced, regardless of the time period they were brought up in. Rearing little girls today, however presents a whole new set of challenges. Challenges that make me thank my lucky stars that I was blessed with a boy. Sure, one day I may have another child, and there’s a fifty-fifty chance that the child would be a girl, and if that’s the case, I’ll have to have my arsenal ready to deal with the onslaught of utter nonsense that is launched at little girls in this society every single day.
How on earth, did we as a society, make it somehow seem okay to give the impression to little girls, be it in a straightforward fashion, or more subversively, that they are sexual objects? My son is six now, but I have the feeling that if I had a little girl, we’d already be arguing over why she couldn’t wear lip gloss to school. There are cosmetic products targeted specifically toward young girls, girls who don’t need, nor should be thinking about wearing makeup. When I was about 11 or 12, I got a tube of mascara in my Christmas stocking, and I just looked at my mother and asked her what I was meant to do with that, today a girl of the same age probably already knows how to skillfully apply the stuff.
It’s not just the makeup either. I shake my head in disbelief when I see the way some young girls dress. There are skirts that barely cover underpants, very low-rise jeans, platform shoes, and halter-tops and shirts that show the tummy. I know I’m probably sounding a bit old-fashioned here, but what message is this type of clothing sending to little girls?? Surely the girls would be more comfortable in jeans and a t-shirt, so why, or for whom, are these girls wearing these sorts of clothes? An even better question is why do we as parents allow it and buy them for them?
Toys have become an increasing problem as well. I played with Barbie dolls when I was little, and there was a lot of debate over how Barbie’s unattainable form psychologically affected young girls. Today, Barbie looks like a nun. Has anyone seen the Bratz dolls? These dolls, with pre-pubescent forms, come all decked out in fishnet stockings and miniskirts. The dolls’ “personas” seem to only be concerned with fashion and looking good. What message does this send?
And then, there’s Club Libby Lu. I don’t think this chain has made it to the UK yet, thankfully, so I’ll explain. Club Libby Lu is a shop/space found in shopping malls where increasing numbers of little girls are holding birthday parties. This chain touts that it allows girls to express themselves and their creativity and imaginations, apparently by encouraging them to dress and make themselves up like Britney Spears (pre-haircut, of course). Do we actually want our youth dressing like Britney, or modeling themselves after her in any way, really?! What happened to birthday parties held in backyards, including both little boys and little girls? Why must there be so great a divide at such a young age? Shouldn’t we, as a society and culture, let our kids be just that—kids??
It seems that eight year old girls are now more concerned with their weight and what they are wearing to school than whether their homework is done, or getting outside to just play like a kid. Eileen Zubriggen, who is the chairperson of the American Psychological Association, has expressed her concern regarding these issues, stating, “The consequences of the sexualization of girls in media are likely to be a negative influence on girls’ healthy development. We have ample evidence to conclude that sexualization has negative effects in a variety of domains, including cognitive functioning, physical and mental health, and healthy sexual development.”
“It is difficult to get a man to understand something when his salary depends upon his not understanding it.” --Upton Sinclair
After a rather extended absence, I’ve returned, armed with a perspective that is quite contrary indeed to Craig’s own, voiced in his commentary tackling the validity of global warming. I know some time has passed since he penned that one, so yeah; I’m a bit late. Sorry about that. If you need a refresher on that particular piece, you know where to find it.
Before I get into all of that serious stuff, I just wanted to take a moment to apologize for my short-lived disappearing act. Many of you who read the site know that I’ve been ill, so unfortunately, having had many stays in the hospital, and having undergone a couple of surgeries, well, as you can imagine, I just haven’t had the time or the energy to write. On a positive (or negative, depending on how you view it) note, I’ve been feeling a bit better, so it’s likely that you’ll be hearing from me more often again. There’s probably one more surgery to go, but after that, it should all be smooth sailing (fingers crossed for me, please…I could use all of the positive energy I can get at the moment).
A couple more brief things before I delve into the subject matter at hand. First of all, I don’t know if Johnny and his wife have had the baby yet, but if you have, Johnny, congratulations, and welcome to the world of endless nights without sleep (but as you know, it’s worth every eye-straining second). If you haven’t had the baby yet, well there’s my congrats in advance, and best wishes and good luck with the labor and delivery.
Also, this is kind of irrelevant to almost everyone but me, but I went to see James Morrison last night in New York City, and I have to say that he was absolutely amazing. I was well impressed; the man has one of the most fantastic voices I’ve ever heard. Even more exciting (again, only for me, of course) was that I got to meet him after show. Yes, that’s right. I had a brief chit chat with him, and he signed my CD “To Tammy, All my love, James Morrison x.” Yay. So that’s that. All in all it was an excellent evening (and I needed that, as it was the first time I had actually been out in months).