Different Drummer

This one's for all the moms out there. Be sure to have tissues on hand -- this song never fails to make me cry. It's called "The One Who Knows," from Dar Williams' CD "The Beauty of the Rain."

Happy Mother's Day.

Another amusing story, this one from a Democratic committee meeting last night. It may show that the primary season, at long last, is almost over.

A big Clinton fan in the group announced, "I have a story for you. Actually, I have TWO stories!"

Forgetting he had regaled most of us with the tale the night before the Pennsylvania primary, he grinned (clearly bursting with pride and expecting oohs and aahs) and said, "Did I tell you I met Hillary?!"

There was a moment of quiet, then the response: "What's the second story?"

Heard a cute story tonight at the grocery checkout.

The cashier told me that the day after the Pennsylvania primary, a man with a heavy Russian accent held up the newspaper and pointed to Sen. Clinton's photo.

Apparently (blissfully) unaware this wasn't yet the general election, he pointed to Hillary's face and said, "President? President?"

More and more these days, I remember being a young girl watching two other girls turn a jump rope between them while a third girl stepped in and jumped. From time to time, I was the third girl.

And I couldn't jump. The rope always stopped at my feet.

Conversation, especially in groups, for me is like that game of jump rope. By the time I figure out where is a good place for me to jump in, the subject changes. For most people, it's easy to manage small talk; for me, it's pretty much impossible.

I was raised to be a "good listener," to ask people about themselves. My mother told me people prefer to talk about their own lives and interests, so I encouraged that. For a long time, it seemed to work because it allowed me to learn about other people, which I really did (and do) enjoy, and it was a good place for me to hide. If someone else was talking, the pressure was off me to be outgoing and interesting. And as long as people were talking to me, I could feel as if I had enough social skills to navigate the world of parties and other get-togethers.

I joined many groups over the years, and continued to be the good listener -- and a reliable workhorse. I didn't have to be the socially awkward, fiercely shy person who never had a firm handle on my own identity and needs.

It took me more than two decades to realize that none of this, ultimately, worked for me.

What I finally realized was that I had done such a good job of hiding, from everyone including myself, that I ceased to exist. People voiced my ideas as if they had invented them. When I stopped taking on volunteer jobs, the group members dropped out of my life. I didn't know who I was (I'm still learning), and I wasn't comfortable talking unless it was about important life passages or political issues, so I was never seen as an individual -- the lively person people want at parties -- and I sank without a ripple.

All these experiences have burned me badly, and I have retreated from the social world as much as I can. I have a couple of friends who still care enough to stay in touch, but even with them it is more difficult for me to express myself verbally now.

Which is where blogging comes in. It has been a chance for me to use the only real voice I have -- the one I use when I write. I am blogging to get to know myself, to put myself and my views "out there," for any kindred souls I wouldn't meet otherwise.

It's a strange feeling, doing this. Since I haven't been able to get a hit counter to work on this site, I have no idea if anyone even reads many of these posts, as the only readership feedback I have is when someone posts a comment.

This blog, I know, is a strange mixture of topics: politics, genealogy, nature photos, humor, travel, etc. But it's me -- or a good part of me. At least there's one place I can say all these things and, hopefully, be heard.

Why even share this? Partly because I wonder if any other blogger out there has experienced this pain of isolation, and has turned to blogging as a way to cope and to express herself or himself. Does this sound familiar to you?

If so, jump in.

Pennsylvania has spoken. And I'm tired.

Tired not only in the "working the election for 17 hours" sense, but also in the sense of "how much longer will this go on?"

Barack and Hillary and their crowds and volunteers and bowling balls and whiskey shots have vanished from the Keystone State. Camp Clinton and Camp Obama are now set up in North Carolina and Indiana. Cheesesteak stories will be replaced by Southern barbecue.

Doubtless, we'll hear two more weeks (and probably more) of stump speeches, traded barbs, and gaffes.

Meanwhile, John McCain will be sitting pretty: relaxing, networking, strategizing. He and his cohorts will select the worst video clips of the Democrats and work them into ads and speeches. Every day the Obama vs Clinton bout continues, it's a gift to the Arizona senator.

I keep hearing wry comments about Democrats "snatching defeat out of the jaws of victory."

We're not really going to do this to ourselves, are we?

I visited Barack Obama's whistlestop tour today at the Wynnewood train station! More pix are coming, but for now here's a quick peek:

As a proud and loyal Democrat I am determined to, as John F. Kennedy said in his Inaugural Address, "pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend..."

...Eat any chocolate...

Last night I made a major sacrifice to the cause of victory at the Willistown Dems and Malvern Democrats' fundraiser last night, a Chocolate Tasting! It's a rough job, but someone had to do it.

Here were two of the evening's seven "candidates," chocolates from various makers and parts of the world. I told someone this is how we should run elections in the United States: Connect a presidential candidate to each type of chocolate, and whichever chocolate is to the "taste" of the majority determines the winner!

I really think I have something here.





Just think: No more debates!

In addition to the gourmet chocolates being judged, plenty of other tasty treats were available of what the organizers promoted as "the latest health food, Chocolate!" Hey, works for me! The chocolate-trivia information on one table noted, "Chocolate contains antioxidants which may help prevent cancer and heart disease." Yep, that's the only reason I eat it -- that's my story and I'm sticking to it!

(Or it may be more accurate to say it's sticking to me.)

Other fascinating facts about chocolate, from the same source:

"The largest slab of fudge was over 2,000 pounds and was made in Canada." Pass the knife...

"In general, the shelf life for chocolate is a year." ( I'll have to take their word for that, as the shelf life for chocolate in our house is about two hours.)

Anyway, feast your eyes on the assorted yummies:





In the evening's other "election," the Party partygoers bought raffle tickets to put into the bag of their favored Presidential candidate.



This was one of the prizes at stake. (This basket featured a saying, "Promise me anything...but give me chocolate!" A winning campaign strategy if I ever heard one.)



Pennsylvania State Senator Andy Dinniman stopped by to lend support and give a pre-primary pep talk. (If he nabbed a brownie or two along the way, I'll never tell!)



The conversation was lively, and whether folks were sporting Obama or Hillary buttons, the atmosphere was of Democrats united and ready to taste victory!

Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers today;

And give us not to think so far away

As the uncertain harvest; keep us here

All simply in the springing of the year.
-- From "A Prayer in Spring," by Robert Frost.

It's 1:25 a.m. in a Pennsylvania small town, population about 4,000. I've lived here for nineteen years, and I am bitter.

Here's my dictionary's definition of "bitter": "Angry, hurt or resentful because of one's bad experiences or a sense of unjust treatment."

If "unjust treatment" doesn't cover the deaths in Iraq of more than 4,000 of America's sons and daughters in a senseless war, what does? If it doesn't describe more than 82,000 civilian deaths in Iraq in the same five years (source: Iraqbodycount.org), what will? If it doesn't cover the physical and mental anguish of so many of those who did make it home but are being ignored by our government after putting their lives on the line, why? If it doesn't include the enormous waste of not only human life but also money, how come?

I'm angry at what is happening to the economy. One of my "economic indicators" lately was a young couple of neighbors with two little girls and a dog. The husband had a good job, and the wife was in college to get a degree she could put to work. The girls played in the yard, and my husband and son played with the dog. All seemed well. Then the couple looked at their bottom line and decided they had to sell the house.

They couldn't. They tried it twice, with a realtor and on their own. They couldn't get a decent price. The family tightened their belts, then tightened them some more.

Then, one day not long before Christmas, they were gone. No couple coming home with groceries, no little girls playing in the yard, no dog rolling over for some attention from his buddies next door.

I found out through the grapevine that the couple had split up.

My husband told me about the new trend of "jingle mail," when someone can't pay the mortgage and simply gives up, sending the house keys to the bank.

I'm reading that not only home loans but student loans are getting tougher to get -- just the news I don't want to hear when we have a 16-year-old planning to go to college in two years. (His preferred school -- not an Ivy -- costs about $48,000 a year. I hope the community college is building a new addition, because something tells me the student body will be growing fast in coming years.)

My parents don't live in Pennsylvania yet, but they are about to (if they can sell their home in their local housing slump), then they will be faced with the dilemmas of other seniors here: the cost of a home, surging bills for groceries, health insurance and medications, and the ever-higher prices at the gas pump. Filling my tank sets me back almost $50.

And Pennsylvania is home to once-booming communities which had busy steel or textile mills or coal mines in their heyday -- the kind of cities Billy Joel described in 1982 in the song "Allentown": "Well we're living here in Allentown/And they're closing all the factories down/Out in Bethlehem they're killing time/Filling out forms/Standing in line..."

Has the Bush Administration remembered people like these? Has it tried to help them? Would they be a priority in a McCain Administration?

You know the answer. You also know that Barack Obama is speaking out for people like this, who have "felt abandoned by Washington and political leaders when it comes to an economy that’s falling apart." People who are struggling are being heard.

That's the bottom line. Let's keep our eye on the ball. I have not always expressed myself perfectly in my life, nor, I suspect, have most people. But our commitment to the people in our lives -- their character, their values, their caring -- endures. We don't pick a badly-phrased comment from our husband or our child and slam the door on them. We look at the bigger picture.

Barack Obama noted yesterday that "politicians seek to divide" people by using "wedge issues" involving gays, immigrants, etc., "that I think distract from the very difficult issues that we have to deal with."

Absolutely. And that's the way to say it. Now, I expect someone like John McCain to try to score cheap political points rather than focus on human beings whose lives are being destroyed. But with a Democratic victory in November on the line, I don't expect (or I didn't) such cheap shots from Hillary Clinton.

Evidently, with Hillary unwilling to keep the focus on the people who need help most -- in Pennsylvania or elsewhere in the country and the world -- it is up to each of us to help our struggling fellow Americans, with our time, our money, and our vote.

Till the bitter end.

I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired!

My hubby and son had The Cold From Hell last week (102-degree fever, chills, sniffling, coughs, nausea), and out of the goodness of their hearts (?!), they passed it on to me.

I asked my son why he didn't just buy me something from the mall instead. His answer (in his sweetest voice): "I wanted to MAKE you something!"

Gee, thanks, kid.

Pass the Kleenex.

I slept for several days to try to shake this thing. I had also promised to work the Caroline Kennedy event, so I figured I had a deadline for getting well.

I made the event and did my job, but was still low-energy. Stumbling home, I spent the rest of the weekend in bed. (No, not the fun way.) Two quick errands -- one to the Judge of Elections and one to the grocery store -- wiped me out again.

Now it's Monday morning, and I'm still snuffling and coughing and feeling weak as the proverbial kitten. The election is one week and one day away, and I want to be well yesterday!

Wow, all this bitching, moaning and complaining is exhausting -- I'm going to sleep!

I hope none of you came down with this; it's the pits.

She was a blog buddy. I'd drop in on her; she'd drop in on me. She was caring, smart and zany -- everything I love in a blogsister.

Then she was gone.

One day I clicked on her blog and got the dread message: "This blog is open to invited readers only." The cyberbutler went on to say, huffily, "It doesn't look like you have been invited to read this blog."

It was like I was standing at her door, freshly baked brownies in hand, but no one was answering the doorbell.

OA mom! I miss your blog and am having withdrawal symptoms. Is it something I said?

Can I bribe you with chocolate?

Caroline Kennedy campaigned for Barack Obama yesterday at the Pottstown Diner. I'll post about my experiences there later, but for now a few pictures tell the story:

Barack Obama is like the Maidenform woman: You never know where he'll turn up!

Yesterday, he turned up at the ShopRite on Germantown Pike in East Norriton -- an event covered by no less than the Wall Street Journal . Also jumping on the story were Philly.com and this blog, with pictures .

A friend had mentioned this stop on the phone and I said, "He's going WHERE?!"

But it really is a masterful piece of campaigning, not to mention just a plain ol' good idea. The more our presidential candidates spend time with folks like us who sweat out the monthly budget, the better.

Have we ever seen W at the grocery store?

************************************************************************
Once again, the press has gotten it wrong on a story of great import.

I'm referring, of course, to the egregious errors in the coverage of Barack Obama's grocery list.

Doesn't the Fourth Estate get that the fate of the free world depends on an accurate account of the candidates' snack foods?

In yesterday's story on Sen. Obama's munchie rally at the ShopRite in East Norriton Township, PA, the august Wall Street Journal carefully noted that the shopping-basket-toting senator "grabbed gala apples, a bag of baked cheese curls, a bottle of water, and a package of cupcakes -- Tastykake butterscotch krimpets."

As a thorough, responsible journalist, I need to step in here and correct the record. The Philly.com blog notes that Obama bought Tastykake cupcakes as well as Krimpets, scoring major reporting points by knowing, unlike the Journal, that Krimpets are actually, as the package says, "butterscotch iced sponge cakes." The cupcakes, in a significant scoop by Philly.com, were chocolate. And it's ShopRite, WSJ, not Shop-Rite. (The chain's website shows they have quite a few stores in New York, including Brooklyn and Staten Island. Tsk, tsk, Journal -- get on the Metro and do your research! Oh, and the senator also picked up a bag of pretzels. There is no excuse for incomplete, shoddy reportage. Dammit, America wants to know what the man is eating!)

Still, the WSJ has its moments; they pinpointed his total at the cash register as $9.40, while Philly.com just ballparked it at "a bit over $9," though they did add he paid in cash. It's the details like this that can make the difference between a Democratic and Republican win in November.

[P.S.: The above is written with tongue firmly planted in cheek. Really. And for those from out of the area, Tastykake is a Philadelphia-based company.]

The minute I saw the email, I was out the door. But it wasn't soon enough.

The news: Barack Obama is coming to Malvern for a town hall meeting at Great Valley High School! The email, which I read yesterday at about 1 p.m., said I could pick up tickets at 234 Bridge Street in Phoenixville. I jumped into my car and went right over.

Turned out the tickets were already gone! The nice young woman who had set up a table outside Bridge Street Fine Arts was very sweet and apologetic. She whipped out her digital camera and showed me pictures of the people who were camped out on the sidewalk when she arrived that morning. The ticket giveaway started at 10, and by 11:30 the last ticket (and we're talking more than 1,000 tickets!) had been handed out. I signed onto the waiting list and took an Obama sticker for my jacket.

I wandered into and out of a few shops, and noticed that people continued to stop by the Obama table, hoping for tickets. The owner of one shop mentioned she had tickets for herself and a friend, and had just given her last ticket to a customer -- sigh!

So a large crowd of local folks, including some very lucky students at GVHS (motto: "Patriot Pride: Be a Part of It!"), will get to hear Sen. Obama in Malvern at around lunchtime today. Not I, though.

I never thought I'd say this, but the man is too darn popular! :-)

***************************************
On my way home, I stopped at Staples for printer cartridges. As I left the store, I saw an older woman standing in the parking lot, staring at the bumper of my car. (This car, as you might imagine, has a collection of very liberal bumper stickers.)

I called out a greeting to her, and she turned around and said, "I wondered if you've decided who you're voting for!"

Just as I told her, she caught sight of the Obama sticker on my jacket. I asked her if she had decided, and she said she was still thinking about it.

There are excellent candidates this year, she said, a better choice than we've had in years. I agreed, I wished her a good day, and left her with these parting words:

"Anyone but McCain!"

(P.S.: Before dinnertime, my old, curling-at-the-edges Kerry-Edwards sticker had been removed and replaced by a beautiful new Obama '08 sticker. Bring on the primary!)

"America isn't easy. America is advanced citizenship. You've gotta want it bad, 'cause it's gonna put up a fight. It's gonna say, 'You want free speech? Let's see you acknowledge a man whose words make your blood boil, who's standing center stage and advocating at the top of his lungs that which you would spend a lifetime opposing at the top of yours.' You want to claim this land as the land of the free? Then the symbol of your country cannot just be a flag. The symbol also has to be one of its citizens exercising his right to burn that flag in protest. Now show me that, defend that, celebrate that in your classrooms.

Then you can stand up and sing about the land of the free." --President Shepherd in the movie "The American President," 1995, script by Aaron Sorkin.

"We must not confuse dissent with disloyalty. When the loyal opposition dies, I think the soul of America dies with it." -- Edward R. Murrow.

"Men in authority will always think that criticism of their policies is dangerous. They will always equate their policies with patriotism, and find criticism subversive." -- Henry Steele Commager.

"I love America more than any other country in this world, and, exactly for this reason, I insist on the right to criticize her perpetually." -- James Baldwin.

"There are two visions of America. One precedes our founding fathers and finds its roots in the harshness of our puritan past. It is very suspicious of freedom, uncomfortable with diversity, hostile to science, unfriendly to reason, contemptuous of personal autonomy. It sees America as a religious nation. It views patriotism as allegiance to God. It secretly adores coercion and conformity. Despite our constitution, despite the legacy of the Enlightenment, it appeals to millions of Americans and threatens our freedom.

The other vision finds its roots in the spirit of our founding revolution and in the leaders of this nation who embraced the age of reason. It loves freedom, encourages diversity, embraces science and affirms the dignity and rights of every individual. It sees America as a moral nation, neither completely religious nor completely secular. It defines patriotism as love of country and of the people who make it strong. It defends all citizens against unjust coercion and irrational conformity.

This second vision is our vision. It is the vision of a free society. We must be bold enough to proclaim it and strong enough to defend it against all its enemies." -- Rabbi Sherwin Wine.

"When fascism comes to America, it will be wrapped in the flag and carrying the cross." -- Sinclair Lewis.

"To announce that there must be no criticism of the president, or that we are to stand by the president, right or wrong, is not only unpatriotic and servile, but is morally treasonable to the American public." (1918) -- Theodore Roosevelt.

"Patriotism does not oblige us to acquiesce in the destruction of liberty. Patriotism obliges us to question it, at least." -- Wendy Kaminer.

"Restriction of free thought and free speech is the most dangerous of all subversions. It is the one un-American act that could most easily defeat us." -- William O. Douglas.

“A patriot must always be ready to defend his country against his government.” -- Edward Abbey.

“Patriotism is supporting your country all the time, and your government when it deserves it.” -- Mark Twain.

I want this license plate!

(P.S.: Even if you don't want a new plate, check Dick's blog if you're at all into genealogy; he has published his newsletter for many years and it's a don't-miss.)