Two for the Road

When we first met, we toiled together in Industrial Academia. I am not sure how else to describe the regimented setting where we worked last spring scoring No Child Left Behind tests. Hundreds of persons privileged enough to have a bachelor's degree and poor enough, many because of disabilities or other systematic failures (like trying to live on teacher's salaries, or job loss and displacement and ageism combined with a spiralling cost of living) took on this temporary job in order to help make ends meet. I know I was not alone in serving this early 21st century experiment in quantitative measurement of a failing educational system in spite of deep reservations about the value of my work. My daughter, who has a penchant for redefining things in her own words--one wonders where she acquired this talent (grin)--calls Bush's grammar and spelling and creativity (did I mention handwriting?) don't count approach to leveling the educational playing field One Child Left Alone. But enough of this! I'm not 'spozed' to talk about this job according to non-disclosure rules. I'll leave you free to determine what that means for yourselves (applying duct tape).

It was a great place to meet like-minded people of my own age group in Albuquerque, and it wasn't long before I made friends with Ruth. After the job finished, we kept in touch. She was knocking on doors for Obama, I was registering voters for Acorn. As the convention loomed, we began working out a way to get to Denver to hear the acceptance speech. Just because it felt like an event we wanted to witness first hand. What a "wonderful adventure" it was, too!

Since we are both on fixed incomes, the first step was to wrangle a place to stay. I often say the Raging Grannies have my back and this was no exception. We were wonderfully hosted by Granny Natalie of Denver and her family. I signed up early for my ticket to the acceptance speech, but Ruth left for Denver without one. Fortunately, not everyone who signed up in advance claimed their tickets in Denver and we were able to get a pass for Ruth from the New Mexico delegation there.

It's difficult to pick and choose the best moments of this trip, there were so many "bests." Among them the fact that Ruth actually joined me. Two days before departure she called to say she regretted that she wouldn't be able to travel with me. Her elder sister was critically ill in Cleveland. Fifteen minutes later she called again, her sister had told her that is was more important that she go to the convention than hover around her sickbed! I was deeply touched by just how significant this candidate was to this family. So on Wednesday morning the 27th we loaded up my faithful "Purple" car and started on our mission. (Actually the car is an opalesque silver, but in the spirit of inspiring her to longevity, I always call it Purple.)

Google driving directions being somewhat obscure we ended up taking a 75 mile detour through beautiful country on the way. Doncha wish they would tell you what town you are in when you come to a critical turnoff??? We went west when we should have gone east. What else is new?

Stopping to get directions at a tiny Chevron station in a tiny town near Alamoso, NM, we spoke with the Hispanic owner manager. Told him our mission. He clarified our route and encouraged us by saying that he had watched both Michelle Obama's and Hillary's speeches and been really impressed. And, yes, I did say a Chevron station.

Ruth and I had both been concerned, in our political activities over the summer, that the Hispanic New Mexicans would help turn the tide against Obama in this swing state. One of the reasons American reform and union organizing has been so challenging over the years is that the bosses have fanned the fires of internecine jealousy amongst the folks at the bottom of the heap of the American economy. Today, with the widening gap between the minority of super rich and the rest of us, the folks at the bottom of the heap form a vast majority if they will only work together for change, and recognize that their common economic challenges make them more alike than racial, linguistic or cultural differences. It's critically important that Hispanic voters don't sit out this election.

We were delayed further by a fall roundup in a mountain pass, where we observed real live cowboys on horseback moving cattle down the middle of the road, coordinating their efforts on cellphones! Truth is stranger than fiction.

In the town of Walsenburg, Co, where we finally reconnected with our route, we met two middle aged women outside a 7-Eleven where we refilled our tank. They were so excited to encounter the two of us on our pilgrimage to Denver that we had a hard time moving on without them! One was quite toothless, in the tradition of a government that does not acknowledge that elders might have teeth if they had adequate medical care. They other was just plain voluble. She said, "Ya know, when people tell me they are worried about Obama and his strange name and his Muslim Grandfather, I tell them this. Well, gee, one of my grandfathers was a Protestant, the other a Catholic, and my great grandmother, well she came from Sicily! Remember that!" Duly recorded.

Gotta love this country.

We worried that we wouldn't make Denver in time to catch the Wednesday evening performance by the Denver Raging Grannies at the Mercury Cafe...a wonderful venue with three large gathering places and great food run by an aging hippy. But, with race driver Ruth taking over the wheel, we got there in ample time.

We even had time to catch a meal before the performance -- I might add that our culinary experience in Denver was altogether fabulous, and refreshing after living in Albuquerque where New Mexican cooking is pretty much the norm. Not that New Mexican cooking is bad, it just gets monotonous sometimes, and the fact that the sidewalks fold up at 8pm just makes the problem worse. As we were awaiting our check a young lady came by our table and offered us an Impeach Mint! That was refreshing indeed!

Code Pink had the room next to the bar. They had a lovely table full of goodies, including pink bikinis bearing the imprint "No peace, no pussy," in honor of Lysistrata.

The mood and energy all around this establishment was festive and vibrant -- as we found Denver during our entire stay. The energy of youth was evident, and it's been a long time since I have felt this. (Democracy -- use it or lose it!)

It was great to meet the Denver Grannies -- though I didn't sing with them. They meet every week to rehearse, memorize their lyrics, and have an organized choreography for many of their songs! I was impressed. Amongst them was a Granny from Tacoma, WA, who, like us, had come for the party. I enjoyed their rendition of "Good-bye, Dubya" (to the tune of Hello Dolly) and will post lyrics to several of their songs under Granny Links in the near future.

Here in Albuquerque we seldom memorize lyrics, but we are developing some real punch now that we are participating in several campaign appearances. One day I hope to add a video of our performance of my current favorite number -- Yes, we do not use torture!" to the old tune "yes, we have no bananas." This one is written by one of our grannies who comes from a military family, who as a child met General Westmoreland as a guest in her family home. Not surprising that someone who was imbued with a deep sense of "honor" would find the practices of our current regime embarrassing.

On Thursday we began our long trek to the stadium at about 10:30 in the morning. Once again, fate smiled on us when we parked Purple in a corner parking lot across from the Hotel housing the New Mexico delegation. A woman appeared at my side as I was locking up the car and handed me an all day parking pass. "I bought this and won't be using all of it," she explained.

Finding our way into the room where the passes were being distributed I encountered several folks I had met earlier in Albuquerque at the town meeting to send up planks to the convention. Right away, as I got my pass, we were told that there were likely to be enough passes for all New Mexicans who wanted them to be released at 2pm. Yay for Ruth!!

We spent a couple of hours waiting for her pass by cruising the "mall", getting buttons and bumper stickers and other gear. New Mexico has been pretty "dry", only two "lawn" signs have been stuck in the gravel in my neighborhood, which as I mentioned before is the historic black neighborhood of Albuquerque, and there is no lack of support for Obama amongst these folks, just a lack of signage and bumper stickers. For over a month all the signage in the main campaign headquarters in down town Albuquerque has been hand painted. I stopped by several times in search of buttons and bumper tickers to be told that they went out faster than they came in.

I remember times when campaign paraphernalia was free and went begging. Here on the Mall in Denver people were gobbling up buttons at 3/$10, likewise bumper stickers. We looked, and laughed, and bought a few mementos for family and friends. I am particularly proud of a cartoon of W pissing on the nation, my WAR bumper sticker (Want Another Republican?), and the pin I bought for my daughter "Women 'Shoes' Obama," where his portrait is surrounded by an array of shoes.

(My daughter, reflecting her Egyptian heritage in some mysterious way, is a shoe-aholic. This makes me laugh, and I accuse her of being in competition with Ismelda Marcos. It probably remains true to this day that if there is a crowd gathered around a shop window it Egypt it's likely a shoe store...I guess when you must refrain from a public display of body parts, shoes acquire special significance.)

The mall was jammed with people, riding the free shuttles and espousing various causes, but for the most part, other than the Jesus freaks telling us the end of the world was at hand, and several truckloads of police in riot gear that we ran into on three or four occasions, the crowd was simply jubilant and celebratory. By this time I was beginning to feel that if in fact we do manage to elect Obama, the resulting empowerment of youth and grassroots politics might actually really open the floodgates of change in this country. Be still, my heart.

After we got Ruth's pass, and instructions from the delegation for getting to the stadium, which turned out to be erroneous, we went back to the car to put away our purchases and regroup. According to the sheet we were given about security at the stadium, it appeared that canes were to be prohibited as potential weapons at the stadium. Somewhat disgruntled I exchanged my good cane for my "second." "Sounds like that would be illegal in light of the ADA," I grumbled, "but if I am going to have to leave it somewhere, at least it won't be my best cane."

So off we went..first to try to catch buses that were reputed to be going directly to the stadium...this was the instructions we were given by the NM delegation, but it turned out these buses were only for folks with floor passes for the convention.

After several blocks of struggling with crowds we finally were directed to the Mall Shuttles and pointed in the right direction to catch the light rail. Denver seems to be ahead of many Western cities in public transportation, by the way. The light rail was jammin' with the same folks of many colors and ages you all saw if you tuned into the acceptance speech...and we were all excited that we were finally approaching our destination... so we thought:)

Only thing was that the light rail wasn't running the whole route to the stadium. Everyone was dumped off about 2 miles from the final stop for some sort of "security" rationale. We followed the huge crowd, crossing a huge empty parking lot about the length of two football fields where we could see literally thousands of people on foot in the broiling heat, walking down the middle of I-25 (a six lane divided highway that had been shut down for five miles for the occasion). We sat for a breather and I began to cry. "I just don't think I can do this!", I said. I already had sciatica in both throbbing legs from all the standing we had done that day. "So close, and so far away!" And yet, with the enthusiasm of the crowd continuing to press forward in the heat, in my heart I was willing to crawl.

Fortunately, and a critically important lesson for all Americans who are inculcated daily to believe that they must be self reliant, I was not alone in my dilemma.

Next week, I will continue the saga, inside the stadium and returning home. Hopefully by that time I will have received the pics from Ruth and can share those as well.

In the meanwhile, don't let McPOW and Pawkiller get you down!! My (male) roomie made the mistake of trying to tell me that thousands of feminists who had been supporting Hillary would be voting for McCain/Palin. Feminists! Not any I know. "No Way, No How, No McCain!" The woman is an embarrassment to the female gender.

Three Blind Mice

(If you click on the Title, you will see an interesting Video of the Three Blind Mice as Safety Mice from 1945)

Last weekend I decided to treat myself to lunch out. I went to Winning Coffee Shop, near Central on Harvard here in Albuquerque. I frequent this place for the simple reason it reminds me of Berkeley coffee houses in the 1960's. The food is decent, sometimes even quite excellent, the prices are friendly and so is the company. And, it ain't Starbucks, there's nothing franchise about it.

As I was sitting and reading three middle aged men congregated at an adjacent table. Since I was a girl, when my sister and I used to practice this nefarious habit at fancy restaurants accompanying our parents, I have been an inveterate eavesdropper. These gents dismounted bicycles, garbed in spandex. They sat, removed headgear and foot gear, and took a breather in the shade of the umbrella near me. They got cold drinks. I was all ears.

I was especially attentive when they began talking finance. Just that very morning had been researching how to get a loan to cover putting solar production on my roof--a difficult accomplishment when living on disability. Course, it's equally difficult to imagine how I am going to power my life into the future without some sort of adjustment.

One of them talked about getting a good deal on a loan -- a rather sizable amount of money at 4% on just his signature. Then they all compared internet and cell phone services, at their multiple homes. All in all, I gathered they were "successful", fairly current, and just hip enough to be riding bikes instead of going to fat. I wondered just how smart they were?

As they got up to leave, putting on my mildest demeanor, I asked them a question. "I have been sitting here dying to ask you one question, if I may." They nodded consent. "It's rather obvious that you gentlemen have a comfortable economic life, unlike some of us, like myself, who live on stringent budgets and fixed incomes. In light of that, I was wondering, what do you see as the single most significant task that the next administration can undertake to improve the economy?"

Two of them checked out their fancy bike shoes, obviously a little flummoxed and chagrined. The third raised his hand, like in school, and said "Lower taxes?"

"Wow!" I replied. "That's really disappointing...and here I've been hoping that the 'smart money' would be on rapid energy conversion. I see that as essential to getting America back into production, to creating jobs, to saving the earth."

When I explained that I had spent the morning looking into the cost of putting solar panels on my roof, the one who had responded said, "I'd be careful with that, word is out that those systems may not last as long as they claim. It's more expensive than it seems."

"My niece and her husband have had solar panels on their rehabilitated ruin in the south of France for about twenty years now. I haven't heard them complain."

"Well, in Europe they may be doing a better job of manufacturing solar panels than here," he replied. "Europeans demand quality." (There must be something really wrong with us if we don't, I thought.)

"It just seems to me to be the most hopeful way to right our economy, not have to fight dismal and costly wars for petroleum for the rest of our lives, and, as a side benefit, save the earth.."

"That's why we ride bicycles," ventured another, lacing up his shoes for takeoff.

"Have a safe and pleasant day gentlemen!" I demurred. I wonder how they negotiate, being so blind??? I also wonder just how "lowering taxes" would benefit me, or 85% of the folks who patronize Winning for that matter??? I never felt bad about paying taxes when I was earning enough money to have it be a substantial issue. My only concern was how those monies were being spent.

Sheesh! Maybe Albuquerque is not as enlightened as I thought?

Meanwhile, I continue registering voters alongside my buddy, a fifty-eight year old woman of spunk who speaks Spanish and English with equal fluency and seems to know at least half of Albuquerque. She also speaks some Navaho, having grown up in Taos and Shiprock. She has two sons, one who is studying and working at the community college, the other who is in prison. Lives hand to mouth, works with a will and a friendliness that garners her three registrants to my one. Is studying Judaism (though raised Catholic) because she has recently discovered that her mother's family, who immigrated to New Mexico from Spain, were Sephardic Jews. She continues to revive my faith, not only in the value of our work, but in open minded humanity.

She disses tattoes, even though she admires some of them for their beauty, because to her they represent gang culture, and all the damage done. Yet, she engages with people of all stripes so naturally! She works to see changes happen in this land.

If she ruled the world there would be no "ObamaNation," no nervous nellies concerned about terrorists under the bed. Just people, trying to survive, helping others when they could, trying to "do the right thing." I salute her as I sit here at my desk, ruminating.

May she be the Farmer's Wife! Though, knowing her, she'd probably prefer they would just tuck their tails between their legs and get out of the way. Better yet, she'd sell them a solar system.




My eldest sister, who is 75, just completed a Swimming Master's Competition making her the fifth fastest competitor for her age group in the 200 meter swim in the Nation. Bravo! (I sure hope her aerobics will keep my heart pumping for a few more years! She's also my favorite writing consultant.)

Political Reflexes

In the center of my family in DC, 1956

I wouldn't have anyone believe I don't reflect on my own views, I do, sometimes painfully.

There's this "stew" I make several times every winter. Each time it's a slightly different variation on a French Provincial stew. That because it invariably has garlic and onions, tomatoes and red wine. But each time it's a little different from the last, depending on mood and what is at hand. My politics are similar. In essence they have remained the same over the years, though my positions and issue advocacy might vary.

This year, I have decided to go up to Denver and be a part of the audience for Obama's acceptance speech. For me, it's an extravagance, a gift to myself. It's been a long, long time since I have had an iota of hope for our national politics, and I want to celebrate before it dissipates.


The last time I participated in a political convention was during the 1960 convention in Los Angeles. You know, the one that nominated Kennedy. Looking this up on Google I found some interesting notes on conventions and the political process by Eleanor Roosevelt, whom I was honored to meet at that event. The thought still brings chills to my spine.Chapter Forty-two, "The Democratic Convention of 1960" of The Autobiography of Eleanor Roosevelt by Eleanor Roosevelt.



My mother was State Women's Chairman of the Democratic Party in California at that time, and I was 12. Within the year my mother died of a botched hysterectomy, when a young surgeon decided to remove her healthy appendix just because he had her open. This convention was formative for me because it was the last time I got to be with my mother when she was acting in her public role.


Her courage,her principles, and her rhetorical skills impressed me at the time, and have stuck with me throughout my life. She was a "knock 'em dead" speaker who honed her skills by listening to radio broadcasts of Amee Semple McPherson (would you believe?).

My mother had been sitting on the committee that selected the California delegates to the convention, and had slyly injected many ardent Stevenson supporters into the California delegation. She admired Stevenson for his eloquence and commitment to grassroots politics and international diplomacy. She felt that it was finally "his time," and that the Democratic party owed him a real shot at the Presidency.

One night during the convention my family was seated at a table in the bar of the Biltmore Hotel, which at the time was the grand old hotel of LA, when Jessie Unruh, then running for Speaker of the House in California and a major player in "old style" politics, dropped by our table to inform my mother that she had "slit her political throat." With an aplomb that I have always cherished my mother replied, "Jessie, I don't think you understand why I am involved in politics."

Ironic, isn't it, for someone to be involved in politics, without compensation, for years, just because they were dedicated to making the world a better place? All through my growing up years, I was abashed and disheartened to learn that most people thought "politics" was a dirty word. I retain this naive prejudice proudly, that politics should be the arena of leadership and change for the better, as do the old ladies I work with in the Raging Grannies. Grassroots politics.

As I wrote in the early nineties:

If my father had not given me
Visions of progress and plenty,
Icing from the cake of his own baking
Made from scratch, created to satisfy the omnivorous
appetite of a child of immigrants for a place to call home:
His vagabond sense of rootedness, in his country,
This earth, its people and his time,

If my mother had not suckled me,
Nor rocked me as she sang
Of love's sweet pain, of endurance,
Of connection, of protection
Of solidarity and wit.
If she had been a quieter woman,
With less juice.
A dry woman with less comfort in her fleshy breast.
A cautious woman?
A worn-out woman?

If they had not given me these
Gifts of significance,
Each new year would not come with
These expectations, this sense of flailing arms against
A fierce and grinding tide.

In my last blog, I wrote about felons working to register voters. Afterwards, I mused on why I feel so strongly about the plight of felons, and about second chances. Once again, my reflexes are part of the very warp of my life.

My "dad," who was actually my stepfather, was a handful. He always had been a species of “wild man,” recklessly passionate and stubborn by turns. He had a lifelong penchant, fueled by alcohol, for throwing himself upon the world with his tender parts exposed. He was also, in his younger years, a bootlegger and a bookmaker.

This man, who found a way to support his family during the depression by taking bets on the ponies, was so much more than a lawbreaker and a drunk. In his youth he jumped trains across the country, and shared a lot of the sentiments of the late U. Utah Philipps. As a boy, he had been a devout Catholic, but with the outbreak of WWI, when the pope could not prevent French and German Catholics from slaughtering each other, he lost respect for the Church, but he always thought of Christ as "Jerusalem Slim," a people's Messiah. He was self educated, read newspapers voraciously, and taught me to read before I even started school by reading news articles out loud, with me on his lap, as his finger traced the printed words.

He was a great Dad, when sober. Running home from school in tears in the fifties, where for some reason I will never fathom, they had just done a presentation on bomb shelters -- shoot, I must have been nine or so, I sought him out first. He was always the most available emotional resource for us as kids. His response to my panic and distress was simple and comforting. "Remember, the Russians have kids too!"

In his forties, he started a new life in the central valley as a farmer. The old timers scratched their heads and doubtless whispered amongst themselves that this "new kid" next door would fail when he ruthlessly chopped the tops off his Valencias (he knew, because he studied the market, that California Valencias would never be a good cash crop again, because Florida was getting into the massive planting of juice oranges), and recreated his Valencias as lemons, via grafting. Within ten years the old timers were begging him to sit on the Boards of the local packing houses, because he understood the market. They were aping his innovations in farming, from drilling lateral water wells, to developing new varietals of avocadoes. They admired him as much for his ability to listen and understand as to produce results as a farmer.

He "would have been" the politician in the family, perhaps, he certainly was obsessed with political thinking. Then again, my mother was damned good at it! But he taught me to look beyond the letter of the law, to consider justice and compassion before self-righteousness.

Between the two of them, they gave me a belief system that informs me to this day. "Don't be afraid" to engage, to think, to learn, to grow. "Live fully and passionately." Be a part of your time!

So, I act, and sing, and remember, and look forward as fearlessly as I can manage. With passion and hope, despite setbacks and aging.

On aging: my great friend Rhi recently was babysitting her Mom in Cleveland, and she sent me this snippet of an email I found too amusing not to share....

The apartments mom is in are Wesleyan Village - which is run by the Methodists. I've been blessed, prayed to, and treated to more choruses than I can count of more songs than I can list extolling the virtues of Jesus. Not counting, of course, public grace at all meals. I've played old-lady bingo, done old-lady exercises and eaten old-lady chow. Yes, I think it IS made by Purina.

I console myself with my own mental pictures of what these places are gonna be like in another 20 years.

Instead of baked chicken, spaghetti and stuffed cabbage on the menu, they'll have to be serving Pad Thai, Sushi, and Veggie Burgers. Instead of "Michael Row Your Boat Ashore" and "Red River Valley" we'll all be singing "Cocaine" and "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds". Bring on Bob Dylan, Jimi Hendrix and 80's Hair Bands. Instead of helping us put our clip-on earring on just right, some poor aid is gonna be helping us adjust our genital piercings. Blue hair? I don't think so! How about pink, green, or purple! And instead of playing pass the beanbag, we'll be playing pass the bong. Milk and cookies my ass, croissants and wine, or deep-fried candy bars and Budweiser.

Keep on Truckin'!

Not White Enough

A friend and fellow Raging Granny dropped by to visit me at my home recently. It was only the second time she had been to my house and she wasn't 100% sure that she had the correct address. She pulled over, poked her head out the window and asked two teenage girls if Nel lived here, pointing to my house. One of the girls approached her and in a whisper enquired, "She White?"

My friend, smiling, replied, "Duh!"

You see, I live in the most well known historic black neighborhood in Albuquerque. My friend is Afro-American, nay EBONY! And the girls were also.

I repeat this story because one of the articles I was reading this morning talks about Obama and John McCain in these terms:

It would be splendid if the man could simply just be in the same way as presumptive Republican nominee John McCain. (No one's asking if he's too white or not white enough.) But we have not arrived at that mountaintop yet and so, in the meantime, Obama must serve as symbol and trope. He must represent his multiethnic constituency and he must represent.

(Washington Post: "Plunging into Blackness",by Robin Givhan Washington Post Staff Writer Sunday, July 20, 2008) If you don't know the word "trope," look it up...everyone deserves a new word once in awhile!

My very own daughter, while working in Subway in Baltimore, encountered racism in it's most flagrant form. People were confused by the color of her skin: and in Baltimore that's asking for abuse. Some people didn't want her to prepare their sandwiches because she was too white, other's because she was too dark.

Actually, she's half Egyptian, and could be a citizen of most of the world's countries if you were simply to judge by appearances. Now, working at Subway in Albuquerque on the Air Force Base, she has a crew of fellows she calls her "men", who ask for her by name when they order their sandwiches. One of the reasons she likes living here is because people in Albuquerque are less racist than in the "provinces" of Baltimore.

Yup, racism is very much alive in our twisted world -- along with multiple other forms of prejudice. What a great opportunity to fight these undercurrents in the dark belly of the beast this presidential campaign offers!

I have been writing about registering folks to vote, and ACORN in this blog. Yesterday, we received a body blow from the media (another of my favorite whipping boys)."Criminals Signing up Voters" is the title KRQE (Channel 13 here in Albuquerque) assigned to this portion of their news on August 5. (To see the video of this news segment, just click the title.) Our registrars were immediately chastised as we attempted to register voters the following day, and our numbers were down dramatically. This is a pity, since ACORN has registered 60,000 voters here in New Mexico, which is, as I tell people daily, a swing state, where each vote really counts.

One of the issues we encounter every day here in New Mexico is the factionalism that divides poor folks in this country so frequently. Hispanics who don't want blacks to get a "leg up." Now, granted, if I had lived and worked in this country for many years and noted that while blacks who were brought here as slaves were citizens and I wasn't in the club, I would be pissed off myself. Nonetheless poor blacks and Hispanics have more common ground than not, and Acorn is actively encouraging both groups here in New Mexico to participate in the political process.

I may lose my job unless this smear can be effectively countered -- and that's virtually impossible given that people do not have much voice in the media. What follows is my response to this piece of journalism.

Open letter to KRQE, Chief Schultz and anyone else who is concerned about voter registration:


I am outraged by your story about Acorn.

I am a 60 year old disabled individual who has a background clearance from Albuquerque Public Schools, and I resent your implication that I am a baby raper! I also think that you make Acorn sound like a scam organization when this is not the case. Acorn performs many valuable community services, including the most extensive voter registration drive we've seen anywhere this year. 60,000 voters registered in New Mexico is no mean feat. Some two years ago Acorn helped me to prevent a foreclosure on a property I owned in Baltimore. It appears your reporter doesn't know the whole story about this organization.

Chief Schultz also should perhaps investigate the situation more thoroughly before smearing the efforts of this organization. All those FELONS employed by Acorn are referred by their parole officers who are supposed to inform Acorn if applicants present a threat of violence in the community, such as rape or child molestation. Identity theft is a risk in some limited instances, and I suppose it would be in any situation where poor people are actually being allowed to work in the election process, which is why I proudly show my certificate from the Board of Elections when anyone has questions about the security of the information we process. But the risk is exceptionally small...Acorn does not retain employees who don't turn in voter registration cards, and those that are turned in identify the registrar.

If anyone needs to perform additional security checks, it should fall on the Board of Elections, which certifies registrars. They have this capacity, and perform this function as a normal part of eliminating felons from the voter rolls. Acorn is, like many other non-profits, financially strapped, as are most of their employees. A $35 per head security check would likely put a damper on their registration activities.

Acorn sorts out the bad apples rapidly, and they give many an opportunity to participate in the political process who otherwise would not. Poor people don't have the time to volunteer their services to organizations like the League of Women Voters, but some of us, with clean hearts and very positive intentions, are eager to work for systematic change in our world.

One of the most alarming things about our society is that prisons are a growth industry. Unless felons are given a chance to work when they are released, the prison population will simply continue to expand.

Maybe it's just this. Your piece is trying to stop the political action and self-empowerment of poor people, like much of our media, who can't seem to cover many things that people do to try to reach out to the larger population about the problems our society faces with the ever widening gap between the rich (advertisers) and the poor???

I for one, will be watching you! And continuing to work for change.

GrannyNel

Long Hot Summer Days

Are so much better in Albuquerque than they were when I lived in Baltimore!

Been flying around these days, registering voters still and seeing docs now that at long last I have Medicare in place.

Registering voters is tough, besides being hot work and logistically challenging. The toughest part for me is encountering people who have lived here for years and still aren't citizens. My most frequently used Spanish words are "lo siento"! (I am sorry.) I'm also sorry when I find people who stubbornly refuse to vote even when they could. I tell all mothers with babies in their arms or bellies that it's even more important that they vote because they are voting for their kids too! And then there are the folks who choose to live in denial of global warming. When I run into a streak of stubborn ignorance, I have moments of despair. I also shared many laughs with my fellow citizens over a cartoon I was sent showing a map of Florida and calling it Electile Disfunction. If anyone knows who produced this cartoon, I'd love to credit it. Oh and yes, I am aware that some folks have associated this cartoon with reasons to not vote. I am not buying them.



There are high points also, thank the Goddess! Last Friday I attended an event being held in Albuquerque hosted by the NM State Committee on the Platform. I was buoyed by the attitude of the 40 some people who attended and met for 5 hours to hammer out their recommendations to Barack Obama and the DNC. If the folks who met that evening had their way, we would turn the country on it's ear pronto! They adopted many resolutions including one in favor of repealing the Patriot Acts, for forbidding military recruitment in High Schools, and the one I authored.

"Energy conversion is essential to economic recovery. Developing renewable energy would create jobs, reduce military spending for unnecessary wars, and lessen our dependence on petroleum. By renewable energy we mean using safe non edible energy sources and minimizing our impact on our water supply."

We also moved for the end to the Iraqi war and support universal single payer
health care. And much more!

It's important to get large new numbers out to vote this year and to keep grassroots pressure on the Democratic party.

My garden is having it's difficulties. I told you all about growing corn. Now I wonder how the pueblo peoples survived? My corn seeded and grew nicely and then, just as it started producing pollen, the monsoon season (yes, in this desert land we have a summer monsoon) hit. Twice I found all my nice stalks bent and tangled. I propped 'em up again with sticks, but they were not happy. Seems like the Navajo dug holes to plant the seeds so that the earth would support the stalks. Live and learn!

The rain, however forceful, is welcome. The desert blooms with wild sunflowers and lavender desert nightshade. Lucky us! We also have great local fruit stands. I am forever going into chain stores, cruising the produce aisles to tell people shopping there the prices (lower by half) for the produce at the farmers market I patronize. Many people don't even know it's there!

Let's hear it for insidious eccentric old ladies! What have you done for local produce this week????

Sychronicity and Mad Perils

I got an email from Kate Waterbury today, another wonderful woman who writes, and she has been blogging too! http://earthairfireandwaterbury.blogspot.com Last time I saw her was in the very early spring of 2008, when she did her first round of chemotherapy at my home here in Albuquerque. She writes that she is planning to return and "maintain wellness for the foreseeable future!"

It was particularly good to hear from her as I have been struggling within my own matrix of vulnerability during this last week. Sometimes the universe hands us dilemmas that are particularly vexing, and I think that for people who are accustomed to solving problems and dealing with life from a position of relative internal strength (even if we have little "power" in the "real world"), the process of ageing really taxes our resources. It's hard to learn when to let go, acknowledge that there are some things we just can't fix and that struggle is probably fruitless, and move on to what we are able to do.

I have severe spinal stenosis, which means, like I told my doc, that I am beginning to feel like "all the lights are going out below my waist." This really pisses me off, even though it's a common side effect of ageing. It angers me because, as the day goes on and time moves forward, I am losing sensation, energy and the ability to stand and walk for extended periods of time. By dinner time I cook for myself in little bursts between sitting, and cooking used to give me so much pleasure in my life.

I recently took a part time job working for ACORN http://www.acorn.org registering voters. I wanted to do this because I believe that organizations like ACORN are really vital to progressive movement in this country, and I wanted to make a contribution. My supervisor told me day one, after I informed her of my disability and my concerns about my ability to perform as a canvasser, that I would not have to work the 29 hour week required of canvassers and that she would try to accommodate my disability by letting me do other tasks as well as canvass for voters.

I thought this was working out well, and I was excited to be a part of gathering voters for the upcoming presidential election! I made official looking registrar badges for my fellow canvassers. I went out and bought two visors and printed red tags to affix to them saying "Register to VOTE!!!." These were just a couple of the ideas I executed and brought to my supervisor, based on the problems we were having in the field (some of our registrars are essentially "street people" and have problems establishing credibility, many of them had been asking for badges for weeks). I drove fellow canvassers from location to location. I scanned for events we might canvass, took one of my fellow workers to Jazzfest on the Civic Plaza here in Albuquerque. My supervisor appeared pleased with these ideas. I also kept her informed when, on at least two occasions, I was simply in too much pain to continue standing up to solicit registration. The heat of the day is also very difficult for me to cope with as I have had a quad bypass and take meds that make me more susceptible to heat than some folks. I worked for 6 days and was told by her assistant, quite suddenly, that I was being "suspended" for not producing enough registered voters. Somehow the assistant organizer expected me to perform at the same rate as able-bodied folks who were registering voters full time.

That was Tuesday.

Mind you, I am not sure I can be of any help to ACORN even if they DO let me resume work. This is not because I lack skills or ideas or commitment, but because I just don't fit in the "box." What annoys me to the core is that I suspect that part of the reason I was suspended is because I DO have skills, ideas and commitment and ACORN could not make the effort to find a way to use them.

I think the next time I am told I am "overqualified" I will poke some one's eye out!

Yesterday, Thursday, I went into the office prepared to make a proposal to my supervisor. I had tried to call her twice and she did not answer. She wasn't in the office. Her assistant told me, when I requested some registration forms so that I could try to get some more voters lined up while waiting for a position to open up in the back office where they do quality control, that I could "go to the Board of Elections and get some forms if I wanted to 'volunteer'." I didn't even bother trying to explain to this woman what I wanted to propose, a sort of self subsidy, where we could agree on what constituted a "reasonable" rate of registrations per hour and I would only charge hours for registrations returned. When I asked her to please help me find out how many registrations I had returned in the previous week, so that I could compare them to my hours worked, she told me she wasn't "authorized" and had no time to do that. It seemed apparent that my needs would not get a hearing with her. So I left the office, and am still waiting to hear back from my supervisor.

All I really want is an opportunity to be of service where my talents will be used pursuing objectives I can support. I want to be treated fairly, and to have a good understanding of what is expected of me. I think I may have to just let it all go and move on.....just a little disillusioned, hurt and frustrated.

The only comfort is knowing that I am not alone.

P.S. Apologies are due to Stop the War Machine (Albuquerque) and to Peter Neils for not attributing the photos on my Patriotism piece properly. Stop the War Machine does an irreplaceable job of keeping the information circuits open here in Albuquerque regarding progressive events and actions: http://www.stopthewarmachine.org/events/past.htm.

Time and the Spirit

This is not a polemic! It's a meandering.

I often wonder what it would be like to be allowed only one deity. As a modern Druid I can generally write my own pantheon along with my rituals, sometimes going pure Celtic, sometimes mixing in acknowledgement to Buddhist or Hindu traditions, not to mention Christian or Natural Deity like the sun, the moon, the plant and animal kindred. It's a very rich palette to work with.

Funny, my elder sister wrote from Radcliff to her parents some 55 years ago that we were given not freedom of religion, as my parents who were renegade Catholics often opined, but rather freedom from religion. Our parents always told us we could go to any church we wanted to, and their three daughters went to none-until I came along.

In my fifties, I began to review my life as a sort of spiritual quest. Married twice, first to an American Jew and later to an Egyptian Moslem, I joked that I was now looking for a female Buddhist. In sincerity, I wanted a spiritual home, a community of others who also honored and prayed to a confluence of deity, who recognized that life itself was a sometimes miraculous coming together of diverse energies: some "natural", some "human" (male and FEMALE), some yet to be understood. Since by this time I knew that my knowledge of the entities/forces supporting my existence would always be imperfect-there is just too much going on in the matrix of living for any one being to be fully cognizant-and that I needed wisdom from others (physical and metaphysical) in order to choose "better" actions to take on my path of living-I joined a community of seekers who foster many paths.

Likewise, when I moved to New Mexico with all its ancient sacred haunts, I committed myself to a spiritual duty-to seek guidance and listen to the manifold messages the universe might offer. When I decided to move here, my reasoning was somewhat obtuse. In the simplest words, it felt like "home".

In my new home, I strive to be "open." Under the "influence" of whatever gifts come my way.

So, when the opportunity presented itself to join the Raging Grannies, I did. When it occurred to me to wear a chador (burka-Islamic women's covering) in an anti-war demonstration, I did. When I wanted some corn pollen to honor the sunrise and use in healing ceremonies, I grew some corn. When it became clear that I would not easily find employment after undergoing a quad bypass, I applied for disability and gratefully found some time to finally do something I have wanted to do since I was a child: explore my abilities as a writer.

And when I saw 10 cop cars arrive on my street, and assault my neighbor's home in the name of "Nuisance Abatement"-a really devious new sort of statute that sneaks around due process and allows folks to be expelled from their homes if they can't come up with the cash to bring their houses up to code within a 90 day time frame-I took it upon myself to go and ask the cops what exactly they were doing. They claimed they were "inspecting for code violations"-but in fact they were executing a search for criminal activity-domestic violence, association with known felons, meth labs, drug distribution-in homes where they hadn't done the due diligence to obtain a legitimate warrant. I got on the "horn" and called several city offices to protest. In speaking with the police officer in charge of the Nuisance Abatement Team here in Albuquerque, I said: "It seems to me that this Ordinance could render homeless women and children who are the victims of domestic violence. Oh, and since we have a political system that seems to have made prisons a growth industry, I'm curious, where are ex-cons supposed to be allowed to live?" His response: "I don't know-Phoenix perhaps? Just not in my jurisdiction." Gees!

My "guides" haven't given me a way to proceed on this problem yet. But the young woman with two children under 6 who I sheltered in my yard while the "Inspectors" were going through her house was spared from eviction while two other homes on my block were shut down. She told me she thought my action helped her, and said that when the inspectors returned to recheck for compliance they came with only 2 cops.

I am not yet clear about what I am doing on this earth. Maybe I'll never be. Yet I am enjoying the process here in Albuquerque! Gratefully. And finding that good questions are frequently more spiritually satisfying than pat answers.

Patriotism

I have my earth flag flying over my door. In 2002 on the 4th of July I flew an Irish, a French and an Earth Flag from my porch in Baltimore.

Its difficult to encompass the strange twists of events in this country since "911."

Patriotism has always been a difficult pill to swallow, and yet I consider myself firmly American. Not always proudly. All the best sources indicate more than one million Iraqi civilian deaths can be attributed to our war in Iraq. I am not proud to be identified with such indiscriminate slaughter.

People here in this country really went nuts over 911. Yet the 911 death toll was a drop in the bucket compared to the million who died in internecine power struggles in Nigeria between 1966-70. http://users.erols.com/mwhite28/warstat2.htm#Rwanda I have often wondered what makes American deaths so much more valued than those suffered in other lands, particularly non-European lands. That's a piece of patriotism I have serious trouble with.

Even when I was a kid, I felt conflicted at the Memorial Day parade. I didn't like the martial atmosphere then either, but the marching music was compelling. And all the people coming together to celebrate.

On 911, my main concern was to locate my daughter. She was working in an Egyptian-owned Subway in Baltimore where, since the month of Ramadan had just recently transpired, and the owners had broadcast Arabic music during the holy month. I had visions of some fool entering the store in a random fit of rage and letting loose with a semi-automatic. I was very relieved to find her safe.

We couldn't figure out what to do with ourselves, so we went to a mall and ate ice cream because that was the only place that was open. Surreal. We decided to give blood, so we went to the Red Cross and stood in the endless line of other folks who were at a loss as to what to do with themselves. The man just in front of us was trying to emulate Bruce Springsteen, bandana and bluejeans: muscled.

He looked at me and started muttering something about how "those moslems and their mosques better watch their backs." I responded very clearly and distinctly, hoping that others in the line would hear, "Sir, have you ever met a Moslem, or a person from the Middle East?" "No." "Well then," I replied, "let me introduce you to my daughter who was born in Egypt."

He turned his head away, paused for a moment to collect himself, and said, "Somedays I can be a real asshole, and this appears to be one of 'em." Then he shook my daughter's hand.

Yeah. I do enjoy seeing folks come together to celebrate. I am moved when they mourn together also. But when they decide to make enemies out of folks they don't know, wrap their fear up in hatred then shroud it in red, white and blue--then infringe on the very liberties that this country stands for--count me out.

The most patriotic action I took this year was wearing a chador at the gates of the Kirtland Air Force Base (here in Albuquerque) at a demonstration against the war in Iraq(Albuquerue Raging Grannies at City Council 9/17/07). The cops tried to tell me there was a law against covering my face in a protest. I held my ground and offered to show them my face and my ID to indicate that I was not hiding anything, but rather trying to "show" something. I was demonstrating my solidarity with the innocent victims of our foreign policy.

I ended up getting an apology from the Chief of Police.

Go figure!

P.S. My apologies for not properly crediting STOP THE WAR MACHINE and PETER NEILS for photographs on this piece earlier. I am still trying to figure how to blog...http://www.stopthewarmachine.org/events/pictures/15SEP2007/PeterNeils/index.htm

Why Blog?

For some years now I have been sending out high and low insights to friends via email.

So why switch to blogging?

Mostly cause I am just so angry about the monstrous gap between the view of the world I share with my friends and what I hear and see in the conventional media. I'm sorry, but I'm not the only one who is NOT interested in Brittany Spears and deeply concerned about our crumbling world.

Even The NewsHour on PBS treats energy conversion with disdain -- David Brooks of Brooks/Shields says:" We'll be able to see the oil derricks from the beachheads...But I agree. I think, you know, we all want some pure source of energy. That's great, but it is decades away." http://www.pbs.org/newshour/bb/politics/jan-june08/sbrally_06-27.html

No wonder people feel powerless. All the "experts" we hear on the conventional media seem to tell us there is no solution to climate change and the "energy crisis." Bullpucky!!!

No wonder most people simply don't bother to follow the news anymore. Part of the problem is that The NewsHour is sponsored by Chevron, but another part of the problem is that so much attention is focused on the status quo that we can't seem to get moving. Though there are certain signs that some things are changing, despite pundits and experts. A year ago, none of them would have pontificated that a black man, with a real live African father at that, would have a decent opportunity to be elected President of this country. Say what you will, and they do, about Obama's "move towards the middle," the success of his candidacy has forced him to be taken seriously, and truly upset expectations. I just hope his success isn't his downfall.

I'm surely not an expert on solar or wind power--nonetheless, I'm a believer. I think that with our current knowledge about using these resources we could effect a swift and relatively painless escape from our current triple threat (my own idea of an Axis of Evil): dwindling petroleum resources, global warming, and the seeming promise of endless wars to protect our lavish lifestyle. Don't give me that garbage about how it's too costly or will take decades to produce.
Our problem is simple, sort of. We merely lack the will. And we are stuck with media that is unable to help us move forward because it simply doesn't give credibility to energy conversion.

Maybe the problem parallels the problem with common sourced medical treatments vs pharmaceuticals. Maybe the solutions would spread out the market and shatter their throttle hold on our economy and our livelihoods. Maybe I would be a lost profit location if my house were solar powered and my car got plugged into the power I generated on my rooftop. Or maybe the execs at the oil companies and utilities are just so fat doing what they are doing that they lack the imagination to realize that they are human also -- and it will seriously take decades to migrate to another planet -- so they need to fire up market ready and affordable solutions to move out of the current technologies.

Maybe I could care less about the problems of corporate giants. I am sure they have the resources to find new ways to survive--if we ALL do.

But I am disgruntled to hear pundits say energy conversion will take decades. WE DON'T have DECADES. As a person who made my living when I was working in the computer trade, I know that fundamental techno change is awesomely feasible when the public is sold on the concept. I have seen quantum change in 8-10 years with the growth of the computer industry. And guess what? Not only is the technology dramatically more efficient than it was 15 years ago, it's cheaper.

There is no reason energy conversion couldn't take the same rapid path in development. Unless
some terrorists are sitting on our brain and our will. Unless the experts and pundits, along with the politicians are all "paid off?"

Presently, what we need is a new "consensus." I don't know if blogging will help to push our collective consciousness into a fresh wavelength-- but hey, what've I got to lose.