Old Enough?

During the Vietnam War the people of the US put enough pressure on Congress to lower the voting age to 18 because young men were being drafted at 18, fighting, dying for our country at 18. I know the drinking age was 18 in some states as well. I don't know if that was nationwide.
The voting age remained. The draft was abolished in favor of an all volunteer military. But during the Vietnam War, it was rare for people to do more than one tour. Now they do three or four. Our volunteer military goes way above and beyond the call of duty IMHO. But that is not my subject today.
Age is. We are an aging population in the US. I had many friends who went to the war I protested. I worked for the US Army Recruiting Main Station before I became a protester, so I witnessed literally hundreds of young men going off to war.
One thing that never occurred to me to protest was the age limits for holding office. This morning I read an article on this topic. John Seery is proposing an amendment to the US Constitution to lower the age requirements. I agree with him. Read his article and see what you think.
http://www.salon.com/news/politics/war_room/2011/06/26/john_seery_age/index.html?utm_source=twitterfeed&utm_medium=twitter

down ... temporarily out

like humpty i took a great fall. yesterday at weiden & kennedy, missed the last step, went down hard on left knee and right hand. hand so hard that i broke my elbow. now typing one-fingered with left hand. don't expect a lot of words for awhile! i'm in a cast.

Intention of my work

Today I am completing an application to further my work as a playwright. I haven't written a lot about my playwriting here on this blog. When I started here I thought I would. I thought I might even put up scenes from plays here. So far, no. I thought I might put up poems, and I did put up a few, then I learned that posting poems on one's blog was considered "publishing" them and I stopped. Good grief. I was looking for feedback on fledging poems, but that was my naivete. Now that I know, I won't be posting poems here until after they have been published elsewhere. After I have already sent them out into the world. Scenes from plays can always be reworked. Playwriting is a whole 'nother ballgame.
Anyway, the app asks, as one possibility, for a person to describe her intention of her work. Today I think I might choose that option. So, I am here to explore with you or in front of you, that intention. And then, I'd love to hear from you what YOUR intention is about your own work, any piece of your work. Whatever you are working on in your life. Put it out there. For example, for a long time I worked in the field of disability. I was an examiner for Social Security. Then an analyst for that insurance company, then a supervisor, then a manager. Then I left to become a person who represented Social Security claimants at their hearings before Administrative Law Judges for their disability benefits. I was good at it. Because my intention in that job was for a win-win-win. I felt that what I did benefited not only the claimants by obtaining their benefits for them, but the insurance company by reducing their payout, as well as Social Security by assuring that only the people with genuine claims were being represented. I should add a 4th win, because of course, my company also got paid. I loved that job. That's the one I retired from.
My intention for my work as a playwright is similar. I want my characters to overcome their obstacles, my plays to have the proper structure so my audience feels the satisfaction from a story well told. Above all, I want my audience to be entertained. Not necessarily happy, but moved in some way, changed from the time they entered the venue.
How about you? How do you get satisfaction from your work? Does intention help you?

Supreme Court Rules for Wal-Mart against 1.5 million women today

The Justices ruled 5.4 to throw out a discrimination suit against Wal-Mart today brought by almost 1.5 million female employees of Wal-Mart who alleged that the employer discriminated against them because they were women. Didn't pay equal wages for equal work, didn't promote them the same as men, and so on. Same old same old. Case is thrown out. I have this to say about that: we would not have to sue for equal wages, or sex discrimination if we were equal citizens under the law. Women are do not have equal rights in this country. We never have had. We have yet to pass the Equal Rights Amendment.
We have tried. We have come THIS close. We could still do it. We are THREE STATES away from passing the ERA. Still. I know, it seemed like we lost back in 1978, and many of us gave up hope, and the whole Women's Rights movement pretty much fizzled out at that point. There are still feminists, even Second Wave feminists. Now Third Wave feminists. But there is now legal interpretation that shows we can still pass the ERA itself if three more states will ratify it. We need to put life into the movement once again. For this we need new blood. We need our BROTHERS, we need our ALLIES, we need everyone who is willing for women to have equal rights to stand up and be counted.
Please go to http://equalrightsamendment.org/ and read up on this issue. See what you can do, and then take some small (or large or ANY size) action. Be a hero for women's rights. Do you have equal rights in your state? Are you a feminist? What does the word feminist mean to you?

Father's Day: My Dad

I was a daddy's girl, but I called him Dad. Many of my earliest memories are of my Dad. He took me with him to the woods, fishing, "hunting" although he never killed anything in front of me after the turtle incident when I was two. We were fishing and he caught a turtle and killed it. I freaked. He fished and hunted for our protein, but I was not having turtle, even at two, believe me. I was 4 or 5 before I figured out that the squirrel and rabbit we ate was the same as the ones running around outside. (duh). I stopped eating them then. I never ate deer. I think he only brought it home once and that was only part of one that he was sharing with a relative. Anyway, after the turtle, he did target practice when we went out, but mostly when we went tramping around the woods he was teaching me how to be quiet, how to identify plants (poison ivy, edibles), how to find my way back home, how to track animals. He also taught me how to shoot when I was about 6, and made me a sawed off .22 when I was 7 -- the year he died of a heart attack.
When I was 4, Dad taught me to read and tell time. Reading was the greatest gift, and he had infinite patience. I sat on his lap going "what's that word, Dad?" and "what's that word?" until I knew all the words. Then he, Mom and I sat and read together every evening until bedtime. Dad always tucked me in and sang to me as long as I can remember, until he died. He also used to ask me if I would always be daddy's little girl and if I would always sit on his lap. I would say yes, and he would say "even when you're 14?" And I would say yes. We never had the chance to test that promise.
Dad wanted a boy, but he got me. There had been a boy before me, but he died before he was a full 24 hours old. So, he had to make do with a girl. I would never have guessed that I was second choice. Not when I was little. If he had lived until I was a teen, things would probably have got tense. He didn't, so I continued to idolize him.
Dad has been gone a very long time now. I still miss him. I have come to see that he had his flaws, as we all do. I think he did his best to save me from my mom and that's why he took me with him to the woods, to his work when he could. I wonder whether he was happy with my mom, or whether he stayed with her for the sake of me and my sister (she was still a toddler when he died). Whatever the reason, I'm glad he was there to the end. My heart broke the day he died. I prayed on my knees every night for two years to be taken so I could be with him. That didn't happen, obviously.
Here's to you, Dad. You were the best. If reincarnaton does exist, I hope to see you in the next life.

Wedding Day: Fiona and Kaspa

Congratulations to the bride and groom, may you be happy together forever. Here is the small stone I wrote for the couple:

Purple hearts of the redbud tree weep raindrops of happiness onto white roses who hold their petals as if for the bride's bouquet.

As I look out my window today in Portland, Oregon the weather has changed once again back to rain for a couple of days. My Eastern Redbud sits in front of my door, its beautiful purple heart-shaped leaves bright against a background of many shades of green. Under it is a rose bush with stark white roses. Today, the purple leaves are drip drip dripping with rain, and drops are glistening all along the branches as well. Yesterday the sun was shining through the leaves, making them deep red -- another gorgeous sight, today it is rain and I choose to see the drops as tears of happiness for the bride. They do seem happy and have gathered so many people to celebrate with them, asked people to write these small stones for their wedding. To share in their joy. Brilliant! Ask for what we want, share our joy. These are concepts to be taken up and employed in all our lives, people. Better than wedding cake!

Knowledge is Power

When I was in my late teens I thought I knew so much. I had already experienced quite a lot of life: love, marriage, childbirth and was living the life of a battered wife of an alcoholic. I was biding my time until I turned 21 and could escape (in Missouri you had to have your parent's permission to divorce if you were under 21 and I didn't have it). I hadn't graduated high school, but I was self educated. I read everything, carrying my paperback dictionary with me on the bus to work, looking up every word I didn't know as I read my way through Plato, Socrates, and Aristotle. After the Greeks I moved on to other philosophers, other readings. At 21 I finally asked a librarian for a list of the classics and read authors by the armload. Complete works of Dickens, Hemingway, Fitzgerald, and so on. Wish I had been pointed to women authors earlier, but picked those up in the 70s.
When I went back to school, university at age 29, I tested out of the entire first year of college and all English requirements, all Fine Arts. 30 semester hours total. After I finally finished my university degree many years later, and wrote my master's thesis and had it accepted, I did think I knew quite a lot.
Those words engraved over the side door of my high school "Knowledge is Power" stayed with me. I know that my vocabulary, my ability to learn quickly, my excellent memory in my younger years, my insatiable thirst for information -- all have combined to help in move ahead in the world. I was able to provide for my family because of those things.
I could have been a factory worker like my mom with a tenth grade education, but I fought hard to move past that. I was kicked out of high school for being pregnant. My teenage husband was insanely jealous and when my (female) teacher at night school drove me home one night, he thought I hadn't gone because I didn't walk out the front door of the school(and he had come to check up on me.) So I was beaten and had to drop out.
Now that I'm older and actually think about things, I find that I don't know as much as I thought I did. So much of what seemed so clear now seems so fluid. So amorphous. Yesterday I wrote about the meaning of love, and not being sure that I do understand the meaning of love. Lately I've been thinking about what I believe about life. All my life I have believed in reincarnation. I mean ALL my life. When I was a very young child I remembered, remembered clearly my past lives. I would tell my mom about "before." I would say to her, "don't you remember Mama, when I was the Mom and you were the little girl?" and so on. I got into trouble for this belief at Sunday School until finally Mom told me to stop talking about these things at Sunday School, stop telling these stories. She tried to convince me they were dreams. They were not dreams. They were memories.
I also experienced deja vu ALL the effing time. It happened so often I couldn't believe other people weren't experiencing it too. It never happens to me any more. Why is that? And why did it happen so often when I was a child? What is that about? Why do I suddenly sound like Andy Rooney? Good lord.
So, if I believe in reincarnation, what else does that mean? I thought that made me a Buddhist. I have told people for years that I believe in the Goddess. I have had dreams about the Goddess, in which she comes to me and tells me I will never be alone, and so on. But I don't actually believe there is some Goddess somewhere in the sky or outer space somewhere protecting me. It's more that I believe we are all one. Like all the same energy connected molecules, and we will all just come back and come back over and over. Like that. But is there a higher power?
Will we always be people? Why would we be? When I say "we" are all connected, I mean that everything in the universe is connected, everything that is made of the same energy is connected. We could as easily be a cloud or a raindrop or a star or a piece of bugshit. Right? All the same. So why the memories?
What about Karma? Why do we have minds and memories and morals? This is too much to puzzle over in one day, particularly with a migraine. Ha ha! Threw you with that one, eh? Yes. This is one of those headache days in which I cannot take meds because I can take them only twice in a 7 day period. Two more days before I can take meds again. So, I am writing to take my mind off the pain. Now I will rest.
Please, if you have thoughts on these topics that you are willing to share, I'm interested.