Mid-CenturyModernMoms

This I Hope For You

Our new President has inspired me.

President Obama (it still sounds funny, we're not used to it yet) wrote an open letter to his daughters and talked about his hopes and dreams for them.  In his inaugural speech, he talked to all of us about the need to come together and make the United States back into the guiding light for the world.

So, my dear children, these are my hopes and dreams for you.

To my dear son Abe.  You are 18 years old.  In the eyes of the world you are a man.  But you'll always be my first-born baby to me.  Due to your various neurological challenges (PDD, ADHD and more), you've been misunderstood most of your life by most of the people that surround you.  There have been so many times that I asked the Almighty just to let you stay exactly as you are for another year and let you grow into the responsibilities of that age.  You are finally getting that wish with a second year of 12th grade next fall.

To Abe- I hope and dream that you are going to be a successful nerd; able to go out and interact with other nerds and pretend to interact with the rest of the world.  I hope and dream that you will achieve the wisdom that will enable you to live by yourself, without a caregiver.

I hope and pray that you will never lose your love of reading and quest for knowledge.

Sunrise, sunset, sunrise, sunset,
Swiftly fly the years.
One season following another,
laden with happiness, and tears.

For my daughter Rose.  You are almost 15 years old and on the verge of years of great discovery.  These next years will be hard for you (and me) but I hope and dream always for the best for you (which may not be what YOU think is the best).

These words from Fiddler on the Roof bring together many of my hopes and dreams for you.

May the Lord protect and defend you.
May He always shield you from shame.
May you come to be
In Israel a shining name.

May you be like Ruth and like Esther.
May you be deserving of praise.
Strengthen them, Oh Lord,
And keep them from the strangers' ways.

May God bless you and grant you long lives.
(May the Lord fulfill our Sabbath prayer for you.)
May God make you good mothers and wives.
(May He send you husbands who will care for you.)

May the Lord protect and defend you.
May the Lord preserve you from pain.
Favor them, Oh Lord, with happiness and peace.
Oh, hear our Sabbath prayer. Amen.

But I also hope and dream that you become a strong an independent woman in the spirit of your great-grandmother.  I pray that you maintain your love of reading and quest for learning and fulfill the vision of the commercial when you bring home the (turkey) bacon and fry it up in a pan, because you are woman!

For both of my children.  Tevye said it best of all

To life, l'chayim!
L'chayim, l'chayim, to life!
One day it's honey and raisin cake,
Next day a stomach ache,
Drink L'chayim, to life!

Our great men have written words of
Wisdom to be used
When hardship must be faced;
Life obliges us with hardship
So the words of wisdom
shouldn't go to waste.

To us and our good fortune
Be happy be healthy, long life!
And if our good fortune never comes
Here's to whatever comes,
Drink l'chayim, to life!

The Absurdity of Voting in the Midwest

First, thank friggin' goodness. Congrats President Obama. May we begin the road to the America we deserve! I would also like to mention that McCain's speech was quite gracious even if his audience was not. A friend just said he was way more sincere in defeat than he was in debate.

Well, everyone, it has happened. I have turned my daughter into a blogger! All day long my 19-year-old college sophomore has been calling and IMing me about the election. I convinced her to document the day in images. Out she went with her camera, snapping away 50 pics in no time.

Then she went to the polls. She called in a rage about the absurdity of the process so I asked her to write about it. Here goes:

I entered an almost empty polling room at 4:45 pm at the Madison Area Technical College in Madison, Wisconsin.

I walked up to the sign in table where I was asked my name and address. Without presenting any identification, I was crossed off a list and presented a small sheet of paper with my voting number.

I was then directed towards another table where I traded my number for a large piece of white paper inside of a blue folded sheet of paper along with a thick black marker. There were two tables set up next to each other on the opposite side of the room, one with chairs set up in front of it and the other tall enough to stand in front of.

On the tables were plastic and cardboard dividers separating the tables into smaller, “more private” sections. I approached the dividers and I separated myself from one of my friends, leaving one cubicle in between the two of us. I removed the white sheet of paper and read the directions on top that explained how to vote. Each candidate and referendum had a broken line to the right of them and in order for a vote to be registered, the line had to be connected.

Although we were separated, my friend and I were able to talk throughout the entire process and she was even able to ask me what to write for each referendum. There was no one regulating the conversation between the two of us. If there had been a person in the cubicle next to me, I could have easily looked over to see how they were voting.

After the cubicles, I placed the ballot into a machine where a poll regulator was standing watching me do so. With one glance he was capable of seeing how I voted.

So basically, I voted for the president of the United States by connecting the dots without any privacy.

I’ve participated in High School Student Council votes that were more official than this.

And there you have it. Out of the mouths of babes (sort of). Perhaps some voting reform is in order.

Dreams can come true -- but they sometimes need help

Once upon a time, there was a little boy with a dream.

He dreamed of love. A romantic love, in fact. Of love that transcended the ages.

He knew that his dream was not really all that realistic. It was a dream, after all.

But he continued to hope that one day he would meet the one person in the world who was absolutely perfect for him.

The one person who would understand his dark moments.

The one person who would understand his sense of humor.

The one person who would be the yin to his yang.

The one person who would love him back with the same intensity.

The one person who was meant just for him.

There were many dark years as the little boy grew up. Many years when he thought that one person didn't really exist.

Many false starts. Many times when he thought ... maybe? This time? Is this the one?

And many times when his heart was broken. Not just broken, but smashed to little pieces by a person who turned out to be much less than he thought.

Until now.

The little boy is a week from his 25th birthday. Almost a year ago, that elusive "person" he was seeking appeared.

And he knows love.

Romantic love.

Precious love.

Someone who understands his dark moments.

Someone who understands his sense of humor.

Someone who is the yin to his yang.

Someone who loves him back with the same intensity.

Someone who was meant just for him.

Last May, something happened that would open the way for the little boy and his true love to be able to get married.

Tomorrow, California voters will decide if that still can happen when he's ready.

As the little boy's mother, I want that for him.

I want for him and his boyfriend to know the joys and sorrows, the ups and downs, of marriage.

I want to dance at my son's wedding.

Win Some, Lose Some

The other day as I watched Rose immerse herself in watching a race on TV, I knew that there was a way to help stretch out our diminishing natural resources.  But, of course, it would have a large economic impact on certain areas.

No, it's not a way to harness the energy generated by a bunch of teens jostling each other as they pass in the halls between classes (although that is something worth thinking a little bit about).

But would it really be a bad thing if all kinds of car racing, at least those burning gasoline, were outlawed? 

I can't begin to imagine how much high octane fuel is burned by these large number of cars going in circles for hundreds of miles.  And there is also the massive pollution caused by all of the people driving, in heavy traffic, to get to these events.

It makes me sick to see all of these races on TV.  And worse, Rose is now hooked on watching these things, with her Dad.  And they even were part of a huge traffic jam when they went to the Daytona 500 in February.  It just takes one event like this to make me feel so insignificant when I try to maximize the numbers of places that I go on a single trip (i.e.- minimizing total driving).  Why bother?

But the backlash from everyone involved in things like this would be horrendous.  I can't imagine the U.S. Congress having the backbone to make any major changes to help save the environment.  This would reduce our dependence on foreign oil and our Carbon footprint at the same time.  It would cost a significant amount of money.  How so?  There is the economic impact of all of those nutty people who actually go to these events (my daughter  included)! And the drivers and all of the people that make the souvenirs, and those that sell them, etc.  But, I bet, that overall it would save money too.

Maybe this should be the next blogging initiative (after Capitol Hill and Wall St. finish messing around with our savings).  Should we start a petition to outlaw these polluting events?  Let me know.

            ???????  Maybe we can make the world a better place for our children.

It's time to look ahead

One of my regrets as a mother is that my children are decidedly apathetic and, like many kids, still pretty egocentric.

Does it affect ME? Right NOW? No? Then never mind.

The Roo-girl, at 14, is still only as interested in the outside world as her schoolwork requires. ("Mom, can you bring home a newspaper? I have to do a current event for tomorrow.")

J-Bear is 18 and is still mostly about her job, her animals and karate.

Z-man, 19, is cooking. He's in culinary school. At 18, he had to register for the draft (a stunning moment for him), but he has so far declined to register to vote.

The Drama King has a stake in politics this year. As a gay man (aged 24), he celebrated California's acceptance of same-sex marriage earlier this year.

But does he realize that Proposition 8 could take this away? Maybe. Has he registered to vote so he can make a difference?

No.

So the phone call I received this past week from my oldest, Drummer Man, 27, was a refreshing moment as he peppered me with questions -- and his opinions.

"What do you think of the candidates, Mom?"

"Did you watch the presidential debate?"

"Are you going to watch the vice presidential debate?"

"What is the failure of the bailout going to mean for me as a renter? I'm guessing I won't be able to buy a house any time soon."

"Do you think Sarah Palin will step aside?"

"I'm thinking about voting for Obama, but I'm still looking at everything and learning."

Oh my goodness, dude.

So, Drummer Man, did you register to vote?

"Absolutely. I'm really excited about voting this year. I finally figured out that this DOES affect me and my future, and I'd better pay attention."

Who are you, and what did you do with my egocentric little boy?

Ah, now I see. You now are a grown man -- with a job, a home (albeit a rented apartment), a girlfriend, bills and vision that looks FORWARD, instead of merely right in front of your nose.

Perhaps there IS hope for us all.

Pre-gaming

This is a follow-up to my last post on leaving teens home alone. We had quite a response to that one so I thought this would be an interesting topic.

If you have teens, certainly ones in college, you probably have heard this term before. It is the act of partying before going out. Similar to tailgating at a sporting event, this was born out of the 21-year-old drinking age. They can't legally drink where they are going so they pound it before they leave.

Me? I was one of those who was genetically hardwired to puke my guts up after more than 3 drinks. I had a nice little anatomical governor that stopped me from ever binge drinking because puking to me was a fate worse than death. Seems today, puking is not all that big of a deal (ew). And 3 drinks is more like getting started than cutting yourself off.

I, for one, think that this legislation has done nothing but encourage teens to drink more in a shorter period of time. And to get fake IDs.

Great. So we solve one problem, drinking and driving (some will disagree with that) and we cause two more. Now we have binge drinkers who run the risk of having a record for having fake ID. Not to mention what happens if they are wasted and left alone somewhere with the wrong ID on them.

Brilliant, right?

Seems I am not alone in my opinion. Enter the Amethyst Intiative. Here is a brief description from their website:

Launched in July 2008, the Amethyst Initiative is made up of chancellors and presidents of universities and colleges across the United States. These higher education leaders have signed their names to a public statement that the problem of irresponsible drinking by young people continues despite the minimum legal drinking age of 21, and there is a culture of dangerous binge drinking on many campuses.

The Amethyst Initiative supports informed and unimpeded debate on the 21 year-old drinking age. Amethyst Initiative presidents and chancellors call upon elected officials to weigh all the consequences of current alcohol policies and to invite new ideas on how best to prepare young adults to make responsible decisions about alcohol use.

Check out the list of 130 colleges and universities that have signed this thing. Pretty impressive list.

Thoughts? (oh, this should be interesting for sure)

Election 08: Making college affordable

Like everyone else, I'm watching this election in the USA with great interest. One of the issues I haven't yet seen discussed is making college more affordable for families that can't just shell out $40K/year. So I've been looking around and found some great information at Momocrats. In fact, they have covered every major issue with the records of both candidates, so I urge you to go and look at what they've uncovered.

However, here I'm just going to present their findings on paying for college. You can make your own decisions about who to vote for.

BARACK OBAMA

• Obama Repeatedly Supported Making College More Affordable. Obama has voted repeatedly to increase Pell Grant awards that make college more affordable. He co-sponsored the HOPE ACT to increase the maximum Pell Grant award to $5,100 – and worked on the HELP committee to ensure it passed and was signed into law last year.

• Obama Will Create the American Opportunity Tax Credit. As president, Obama will make college affordable for all Americans by creating a new American Opportunity Tax Credit that provides $4,000 a year towards a college education in exchange for community service.

JOHN MCCAIN

• McCain Voted Against Efforts To Help Make College More Affordable. McCain has repeatedly voted against increased funding for Pell Grants and other programs designed to make a college education more affordable. In some instances, he even chose to keep tax cuts for the wealthy instead of using the funds to increase Pell Grant awards. In addition, he voted against reducing student loan costs, and opposed giving middle income families a tax deduction for up to $12,000 in college tuition expenses. [Vote 268, 10/25/05; Vote 153, 5/22/01; Vote 155, 5/22/01; Vote 126, 6/25/97; S 1429, Vote #241, 7/30/99]

The Youth Vote in this Historic Election

La Petite was three weeks too young to vote in the last presidential election. She turned 18 in December of that year and registered to vote the following spring. She did her homework on the candidates and the local referendum, taking her civic responsibility very seriously. Each poll worker congratulated her on voting for the first time, and the man who handed her the "I Voted" sticker told her a brief story about a young woman he'd known who had cast her first vote at the same neighborhood polling place that we do, and a few years later ran for a local office and won.

When she went to college, she registered and voted there. She even talked her apolitical boyfriend into voting by convincing him that the people in office really did make a difference in his life. She passed on literature to him and to her roommate to make sure they made educated choices.

La Petite isn't likely to run for office, but ever since she was 13 and I took her to a Tipper Gore rally, she's been curious about the whole political picture. Now that she's a journalism major and photographer for the school paper, she's had opportunities to cover campaign rallies on and near her campus. We've had some good talks: sharing our knowledge and experiences, discussing our potential voting decisions, and agreeing that the Big Media doesn't cover everything.

Now that the Democratic candidate is (almost officially) in place, we've talked about the two fabulous Senators. I've admired Hillary Clinton for years. La Petite was excited about Obama from the day he announced his candidacy. Somehow, we've never argued about our choices. We've agreed more than we've disagreed. And on primary day, both of us had to take deep cleansing breaths before we completed our ballots.

When I won my prizes from the MOMocrats, I shared the contents (ahem) with La Petite. When she goes back to school in the fall, it's likely she'll photograph more campaign rallies in her position as staff photographer, maybe even meet Senator Obama himself.  And I'll watch with motherly pride, knowing she's watching history as it's happening, using her camera to convince her peers that yes, voting makes a difference.

Yes, I'm sending my son to Israel

By Nina

It never ceases to amaze me  -- the looks of horror I get when I tell people I'm sending my 16-year-old son to Israel for the summer.  Even from Jews. 

Well, I'm in the south now and down here people think nothing of asking you straight out, when they first meet you, "What church do y'all go to?"  And then when you tell them you're Jewish and you don't actually go to church, but you belong to Congregation Shearith Israel, three minutes later they say, "Now what was the name of that church you go to?"   OK, maybe it's hard to wrap your brain around the tangle of Hebrew that is Shearith (remnant) Israel (Israel).  This stuff doesn't even rattle me.  It's almost cute.

What I hate are the looks of grave concern when you say you're sending your child to Israel.  You'd think I was sending the kid to Baghdad.  In fact I'm sending him to his homeland, the most progressive, impressive and remarkable nation in modern history.  He will be touring with other teenagers from North America, under strict supervision in what is turning out to be one of the most robust summer tourism season in a few years.  Israel needs that badly. 

I don't want to preach here or get too political on you, but this I believe.  Israel is a brilliant democracy that sits in a very bad neighborhood.  It is surrounded by neighbors who would like it to disappear from the earth.  Egypt is digging tunnels to run guns and supplies to Hamas in Gaza.  Syria and Lebanon, it's puppet state,  have rockets aimed at the Golan Heights and Tel Aviv.  And let's face it, Iran's nukes, whether you believe they exist or not,  are intended for Israel. Only Jordan, ruled by a modern and educated King, understands the utility and potential of "making it work" with Israel.

My son will start his trip in Europe.  He'll tour Prague and visit Auschwitz and see the remnants (that Hebrew word Shearith again) of once thriving Jewish communities where his ancestors  lived, learned, taught, created and prospered.  Then he'll sail into Haifa Harbor, like the Ma'apilim (immigrants)  who survived the Holocaust and made new lives in the Jewish State. He'll see the good, the beautiful, the ugly.  He'll see the security wall and the checkpoints.  He'll see Jews and Arabs struggling to coexist in a complex shared destiny.  He'll hear Hebrew, a language resurrected from the pages of the bible, as a living, breathing modern tongue with its own unique street slang and poetry.  He'll see contradictions and complexities on every street corner. 

Israel isn't neat and tidy. It's loud and messy.  It is all at once western and eastern, orthodox and progressive, secular and religious.  It is our pride and our pain. These ads express our immense pride in what Israel has achieved amidst staggering challenges.

And that's the way I want it.  I cannot protect Grumble from everything.  In truth, I think life in Israel is safer than life in America. People are connected there in ways that can barely be expressed.  When you ride the bus and someone thinks your baby might be under-dressed and chilly, 5 surrogate mothers will step in and offer their sweater as an extra blanket.  Once in a restaurant where my 5 year old wailed for pizza, the proprietor sent a waiter across the street and got my kid a slice.  When Israeli soldiers were camped out in a field near Efrat during the 2nd Intifada, my friends cooked for them as if they were their own sons and daughters.  That's the kind of place I want my son to experience. 

There will be an armed guard on Grumble's bus.  He will not travel outside the so-called "Green Line" and security reports will determine when and where his group travels.  But there will also be songs and sights and stories I cannot give him in America. For 5 weeks he'll be in a danger zone.  I wouldn't have it any other way.

It's all political. And I mean ALL political.

When I opened the package Monday, I knew it was my new clutch bag, a prize from the  MOMocrats' drawing last week. The bag is as sweet as can be, letting me show off my political preferences with class -- at least until the Democratic convention, and perhaps longer.

The cute little clutch was full of miscellaneous swag, too. A MOMocrats magnet and bumper sticker, a tiny hand sanitizer (you know, to use after shaking hands ad nauseum at a rally), and the piece that made me laugh, honestly, out loud.

Of course, the saga continued. Husband asked, "Are those what I think they are?" La Petite -- well, she's 21, and our "chat" went something like this.

La Petite: "OMG THATS HILARIOUS! Can i pin them onto my bulletin board? since you clearly can not properly display them anywhere at your work or home, but me on the other hand, well its almost so cliche i have to do it..."

Me (the serious mother): "Now, my gifted and talented and intelligent offspring (yes, I really did address her in that manner), you realize that if you put a pin through them they become unusable."

La Petite: "Yes, thank you Mrs. Teacher Mom. I realize they forced you to teach sex ed last year, but don't worry, you don't have to anymore."

She's right. I don't have to teach sex ed any more! W00T!! And just because I can, I'm going to mail a package of, shall we say, "unique campaign material" to her campus apartment's mailbox.