Cheesecake Popsicle Open Thread

These should cool off my throat, which is on fire still

 

Barbed-Wire and Backpacks On My Mind

Last month I wrote a diary outlining an ultimatum issued by the Minutemen to George regarding the construction of a wall along the southern U.S. border. They basically said that if national guard troops were not deployed by May 25th, that they would start building themselves.

Well, over the past weekend, that’s exactly what they did.

At least 200 volunteers gathered Saturday morning on the Ladds’ ranch as they marked Memorial Day weekend and the kickoff of their fence-building effort. Most of the morning was dedicated to speeches from politicians and Minuteman leaders and celebrating large donations the Minuteman group has been receiving.

Among the Minuteman volunteers who made their way to this remote ranch Saturday was Quetzal Doty of Sun Lakes, a retired U.S. diplomatic consular officer. Doty said he’s convinced the Minutemen and most Americans aren’t anti-immigrant.

“They’re just anti-illegal,” said Doty, who came with his wife, Sandy. “The Minutemen walk the extra mile to avoid being anti-immigrant and that’s what we like about the organization and what got us interested.”

linkage

“Walk the extra mile” – the irony behind that remark stirs something inside of me. It’s the nagging impulse that keeps me up at night, the same prodding that sent me an hour south on Sunday night to go see for myself what I heard only as rumor earlier in the week.

Downtown Nogales, Sonora is closing down, building-by-building.

I don’t have any links for proof, but can tell you that my own eyes that I saw a completely different city than the one I visited a couple of years ago. Calle Obregon, the main drag closest to the line is usually bustling with people shopping, cantina-hopping or just walking around to take in the world around them.

It was virtually empty.

I decided to sit down on a bench in one of the placitas for abit to quiet myself and contemplate what is happening between our countries. After about a half hour, I could hear a bunch of voices from behind the corner of the building that was nearby. It was an odd sound, as it served to shatter the darkness and silence of the city square.

One-by-one they came into sight. A line of men walking in procession, each carrying a backpack. They were getting ready to cross the desert.

I imagined what was in those backpacks. Surely water. Will it be enough? Surely food. Will it spoil in the triple-digit heat? Surely paperwork that identifies each person. Will it someday be met by the coroner’s glove?

All of these questions swirl in my head as I watch with horror at politician posturing in Washington. The ones getting media attention are the likes of Rep. Steve King (R-IA) who attended the Minutemen groundbreaking ceremony and recently initiated the “English-only” chingaderas on Capitol Hill.

When are you gonna wake up, America, to the humanity that binds us all? When are you going to stop being divided for profit and personal gain? Where is the epiphany that barbed wire is no substitute to friendship?

I guess I’ll have to keep waiting for answers and hope that those backpacks are filled with enough provisions to save the life of its owner.

 

Thoughts on Memorial Day

There is a picture that I found last January while moving that is one of the most cherished items in my possession. If a fire were to break out in my humble abode, it, along with my encased American flag would be on the short list of items to take with me as I run out the door.

The photograph was taken when I was in junior high and includes your truly standing in between my two grandfathers. They’re both deceased now, but their memories and legacy flow strongly in my blood. The backdrop is the cemetery in my hometown and was snapped immediately following a service on Memorial Day at the veterans’ plaza.

A smirk grows on my face when I see my adolescent-self dressed in my class A Boy Scout uniform, weilding the alto saxophone that I used to provide an echo during the playing of Taps at the commemoration. I can still remember the dampened eyes of the people gathered when those piercing notes carried in the air.

You see, I never realized how much military training I received in Scouts, or at least I had forgotten it, until a couple of weeks ago when I DJed an ROTC Military Ball for high school students. As I watched the color guards process in with the colors as well as perform rituals to hand over leadership to a new class of officers, I was struck by the familiarity of the movement, the language they used and just the all-around environment.

The past few years have been hard for Americans (to provide an understatement). I’m not sure if my international friends can know fully the dissonance that many of us are experiencing; especially as it relates to our military. Story upon story of atrocity has been met by disbelief from those of us who grew up either serving in the armed forces, or as children/grandchildren of veterans. There is a strict code of camaraderie that I think goes unspoken for the most part, it is what binds a unit together; it is that unbroken bond that will send them back into a warzone to make sure their straggling friend is not left behind or stops their hand from mistaking innocent bystanders for “the enemy”.

The code also involves a sense of honor, echoed by the mantra of the Boy Scout Law: A scout is trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean and reverent.

While I understand those types of virtues are hard to swallow when they’re being recieved at the end of a weapon in a warzone, its the inner-formation of a soldier/scout that I wish to highlight with this post. I never got a chance to talk to either of my tatas about the details of their military service and I deeply wish I would’ve gotten that opportunity. For now I will have to settle for the huge lump in my throat as I type these words; recalling the caring, loving men they were until they left this world.

This Memorial Day is going to be difficult for the American people, at least I feel it should be. The armed forces are being guided by bi-partisan leadership that has lost all semblance of personal responsibility and how it relates to the usage of force. I believe, and I find that I’m joined by a growing number of veterans, that the unspoken code of honor has been breached. It is resulting in widespread bloodshed and anguish in our world. I fear that the global system is going to get much uglier as it corrects itself and puts American imperialism and neo-con led “democratization” in its place.

It must happen though, balance must be restored, the code upheld. As I/we await that day, I will simply use this Memorial holiday to watch the silent glow of the candle I lit near my Eagle Scout flag and the picture of my abuelitos to remember all of the lives who have been lost in the name of war. Lives that transcend all borders, ethnicities, genders, religions, etc. Lives that are tied together by our humanity. By remembering, I strengthen the resolve within myself to work towards making sure that I, and the people I surround myself with, will work towards Peace and bridge-building.

On this day, I honor those who honored themselves by remembering that the human spirit’s power is best wielded when we live our lives in such a way that everyone who comes in contact with us feels an obligation to be a better person themselves.

Rest in peace, abuelitos

 

Get Comfy! Time for the Sunday Stroll

First up – news! Boran2 is turning one! Mañana! (We’ll not ask why he is not then Boran1, by the way). And it’s not exactly him, but his blog! So, go wish him a happy blogday, and then read about how the Bush admin’s EPA is working to put us all in greater danger.

Duke upends the right wing immigration talking-points bag and dumps everything out so that we can take a good look at it, and see what they are actually saying, and how they are manipulating the language and debate. Also, the main highlights of the immigration bill that recently passed the house. As usual, excellent work taking difficult, not easily understood topics and opening them up.

Olivia has an amazing iris! It looks like it is either sticking its tongue out at you, or it comes with its own caterpillar. Gorgeous, either way! Also, the sky seen from the backdoor, and from the frontdoor… same time, same day, two very different skies! And lots more besides, many beautiful flowers. Astute observers will note that I’ve said nothing… nothing at all about Olivia’s bug porn! (no link, you’ll have to find it on your own.) I am so proud of myself.

[UPDATE!] Sallycat is writing about Big Adventure, Big Ifs, Big Water and swimming the rapids. Somehow she ties it all in to self confidence and being careful what you ask for. And it works! go read!

Forget creeping bugs and pod people… James hears tell of creeping deserts! Just remember, the cactus is your friend. Also, one of the great (and greatly ignored) dilemmas in seeking Israeli/Palestinian peace.

XicanoPwr points out how dropping out of college and becoming “chief bag-carrier, dog-sitter, call-screener, hand-cleanser, paper-sorter, speech-reader, lectern-duster, schedule-keeper and Altoid-provider” can be a great career and education move… as long as you remember that some dogs are more equal than others, that is.

[UPDATE AGAIN!] katiebird has a Welcome Wagon! And picture of some pretty, determined looking lady lifting weights. Go say hi! There’s lots more there too, of course, including being committed daily, rewards (what in the world is a “Clausthaler”?) and other stuff (but no vibrating beds).

I didn’t know who Sophie Scholl was, but I looked her up after reading dove’s piece on choices, taking stands, promises and self awareness and, but not really (although the method would probably work) stopping smoking. Also – on a quiet day you can hear the echoes.

Awwww. Whining dogs, super-coordinated multitasked eating, remote controlled cars and old friends that just want to be loved. Go read Familyman. Sniff.

[UPDATE THE LAST! (maybe)]

In Canada, catnip tells us, the public employees union (aka CUPE) votes in a majorly significant way. And a union in Britain considers doing the same thing. “Fierce debate” probably doesn’t half cover it. Also, a store makes a decision – right or wrong, this debate is far from over, even if swept under the rug for a bit. Lots more at catnip’s site! She finds the news and then finds the angles.. then tells us about them!
[UPDATE SORTA IN THE MIDDLE, BUT NOT!] catnip, fresh from toasting herbettes, has tossed a frame of mind into the mix! A great short story, with an interesting twist and food for thought.

Compassion, clarity, absolutism, and the choices made are all present in Ductape’s article on atrocity and apologists. If you’ve not read the conversation in the BooTrib version, do yourself a favor and do so. Amazing insight and thoughts expressed… the entire thing certainly an example of the very best of the blogosphere.

All done!

 

Conundrums Before Dawn – Saturday Thinking Out Loud

Silent. Empty. Still.

I love the hour just before dawn. I stand at the window, in the dark, looking out on an empty street, absent the distractions of work or children or spouses – still and silent moments of contemplation, when time seems for a short while to have little meaning; when my inner thoughts and being are almost in a state of abeyance. It is then that sometimes I feel that almost breathless sense of expectancy, when it seems as if surely there is more on the way besides just a new day. That something momentous will be occurring at any moment, if I just happen to be looking in the right direction at the right instant.

Now and again I will imagine that other people who are wakeful in these early hours share these unformed expectations, our thoughts seeking out the profound depths within ourselves before bouncing out to reverberate deep within the consciousness of others. As if, if we could just postpone the dawn for a few more minutes, just long enough to enter into the right frame of mind, twist ourselves into exactly the right pose, meditate ourselves into that one precise state of being, do something, anything… an entirely new world might be handed to us. If only.

But… the first glints of the sun become visible on the horizon. The birds begin their early morning songs and greetings, drawing our attention outward to the present. Children begin to awake, their small-person selves requiring love and attention. Doors slam, signaling the beginning of daily commutes to placate the gods of responsibility and duty and mortgages. And the moment is lost.

For now, anyway. Maybe next time, you think, I can capture that ephemeral promise and hold on tight.

I believe that it is in that brief hiatus, when our world is still and silent – empty of all but ourselves – when we are cocooned in the safety of darkness and inwardly hollow and receptive, that the seeds of our life’s dreams are planted. Not a hurried, frantic cacophony of thoughts and images, as sometimes is the effect of “What can I do in my life?” brainstorming sessions, as if to be the biggest, best, first on the market, get the biggest share of the pie and worry about the rest later were the only worthy goals.

No, these dawn thoughts tend to drift along winding paths down which we normally would merely … dream… we could go. Lush, verdant, drowsy wanderings in a world that could be. Rambling explorations of often-unacknowledged hopes and aspirations, beguiling chimeras that vanish if looked at too suddenly.

The closer we get to sunrise, however… to the full exposure of day, our first-light visions hasten away, seeking cover, so as not to leave us vulnerable. Our fancies that before lead us to the banks of a stream that looked so smooth and shallow and narrow in our half dreaming state, enticing us to take the little steps necessary to cross it, now seem to have abandoned us on the shores of a mighty river that broadens and becomes choppier and deeper the higher the sun rises in the sky; the great River OhBut.

Oh, but I have no talent. Oh, but I have no time. Oh, but no one believes I can do it. Oh, but… the river is too wide, and I have more sense than to try to cross it.

Who says common sense always has to have the last word?

It just may be that the secret of capturing the promise of the dawn is to believe in the nonsensical. The unrealistic, even the fantastic. To drag our early morning dreams out of the shadows, into the realm of possibilities. Only there will they find power and substance and durability.

They are always there, you know, congregating in the corners of our daily lives, nudging here or there, seeking the best opportunity to drop into our minds and say, “Remember me? I’m the you you want to be.” You know, those little “What I really want to do is … oh, but…” thoughts. In the top offices of the highest buildings, at kitchen tables, in classrooms, at daycare centers, in a carwash, serving up hamburgers through a drive thru window, driving a tractor… thoughts of what could, should, might be are pushed away daily.

I am too busy, too important, too insignificant, too frazzled, too afraid, too poor, too rich, too complacent, too tough, too weak, too smart, too dumb, too settled, too flighty… and the river is too wide.

One has to wonder what could be accomplished if we just took the time to build a bridge?

Do I have the answers? No. Not your answers, not my answers, either. I do know the questions are there, though, and that seems like a good first step.

 

Friday Bud Blogging

They get better reception than my cell phone

 

Open Thread – Bad Blogger Style

No Bud. No cheesecake. 😦

Just room to yap the night away – or day, if you are in a different hemisphere. From me, that is… which is not to say that anyone is in the wrong hemisphere or anything, just in one that I am not in. Yet.

 

Immigration bill passed without Majority support

I am having an insane week, but not chaotic enough to report briefly on this

The U.S. Senate on Thursday easily passed an immigration overhaul that would give millions of illegal immigrants a chance to become American citizens, as supporters braced for a bruising battle with the House of Representatives.

The Senate voted 62-36 for the bipartisan bill that couples border security and enforcement with a guest worker program that would put most of the 11 million to 12 million illegal immigrants on a path to U.S. citizenship.

There is going to be a HUGE fight in the negotiations with the House leadership. When they passed HR4437 back in December, I’m sure Sensenbrenner could not have ever imagined that the Senate would do the unthinkable: pass sweeping immigration legislation without the support of a majority of Republicans.

Check out the Nays from the roll call:

Alexander (R-TN) Allard (R-CO) Allen (R-VA) Bond (R-MO) Bunning (R-KY) Burns (R-MT) Burr (R-NC) Byrd (D-WV) Chambliss (R-GA) Coburn (R-OK) Cochran (R-MS) Cornyn (R-TX)

Crapo (R-ID) DeMint (R-SC) Dole (R-NC) Dorgan (D-ND) Ensign (R-NV) Enzi (R-WY) Grassley (R-IA) Hatch (R-UT) Hutchison (R-TX) Inhofe (R-OK) Isakson (R-GA) Kyl (R-AZ)

Lott (R-MS) Nelson (D-NE) Roberts (R-KS) Santorum (R-PA) Sessions (R-AL) Shelby (R-AL) Stabenow (D-MI) Sununu (R-NH) Talent (R-MO) Thomas (R-WY) Thune (R-SD) Vitter (R-LA)

There are a whole lotta Rs behind those names.

Ahem. BWAHAHAHAHAHA.

Here’s some kettle corn as we watch them completely implode over the next few months just in time for congressional elections.

Of course, Duke1676 has much, much more analysis over at Migra Matters.

 

The Egg of the Phoenix

Whether or not the ancient Chinese actually had such a curse, we are indeed living in interesting times. Thankfully, “interesting” is not all bad.

In quiet moments I look around at all the things that should, by rights, send me into the depths of despair… and instead, in defiance of all logic, feel a tremendous hope. I realize that the temptation to ask if I have completely lost my mind must be almost overwhelming, but bear with me, and I will attempt to explain… well… why I haven’t.

Never has the fight for justice – social, environmental, economical – been so important – not because victory is so far away, but because it is so close. Not quite close enough to touch yet, but if you look quickly you can sometimes catch a glimpse of it struggling over the horizon – clumsy, rather unwieldy and prone to falls like a baby just learning to walk, but determined to eventually master the process.

When you view the ominous events and actions of the past few years in the “darkest before dawn” frame of mind, they take on new meaning – those who are feeling their power slipping away are hastening to enshrine their views in law, and to muddle the minds of the citizenry, in the hope that by so doing they will be able to stem the tide of history. It won’t work.

So many “democracies” too appear to be deciding that a democracy, a republic, one person one vote, representative of the will of the people, is not such a good idea after all. People start to insist that that should actually mean something, you see, and that will never do.

Thus the increasing dependencies on theocratic nationalism, militarism, eliminationist rhetoric, corporatism and the insistent cultivation of a dumb and compliant populace, which are all highly unpleasant, exceedingly dangerous… and the manifestations of last ditch desperation.

You will be forgiven if you are not yet convinced of my attachment to reality but follow along a little longer and my reasoning will become clear.

Each and every day we bask in the legacies of the social movements and activists that have come before us. Great and brave men and women, many trembling in fright and horror at the thought of what they were doing, and the likely repercussions of the stands they were taking, but who did it anyway. Imagine standing up, time after time, fully knowing that you are going to be knocked down, maybe never to get up again. But also believing that every time you do get up, your foot is placed just a tiny bit further than it was… maybe even an entire inch… and that the next person who stands up starts from where you left off.

The world is a very different place today because of actions taken and lives committed to change in the yesterdays. And it can and will be a different place in the tomorrows because of actions taken and lives committed to making changes today. Despite what seem to be very dark times, we are starting from a much better position in this era than we have ever been in before. Things that used to be common practices are now considered wrong – most beyond debate.

That the struggle to make sure these gains are fully realized (and not rolled back) is constant does not detract from the fact that equal rights for all is the accepted “civilized” standard. Some may have an imperfect understanding of what “all” means, not to mention “rights”, but we’re working on that. That non-whites, women, gays and lesbians are equal citizens anywhere, that the slavery of another human being is not tolerated, that reproductive justice is a vital part of the lives of women, that people who do a days work deserve a days pay – to the people on the front lines even just sixty years ago, and especially to those who labored in the shadows, these things must have seemed like a very far off and almost impossible dream. Still, they dreamed. And here we stand today.

We did that.

I’ve never quite understood people who buy into the entire “wimpy, soft Liberals and Leftists” trope. What are they talking about? Courage doesn’t lie in the one driving the tank bristling with firepower and the ability to easily crush underfoot, but in the one standing in front of it, armed only with a couple of shopping bags. Courage doesn’t lie in the forces who have the might of law and history behind them, demanding to be obeyed, but in the small woman who refuses to give up her seat.

Speaking truth to power, when it’s likely to get you tossed into jail or ostracized, refusing to run with the pack – choosing instead to stand with the few against injustice, planting yourself in the path of a vicious foe, not for your own protection but for that of those weaker who are standing behind you… now that is courage. That is progressivism, liberalism, leftism, kumbaya idealists, moralism – whatever you want to call it.

It awes me sometimes to realize that there are few places on this earth where you can take a step and not tread in the footsteps of giants. We don’t know all their names, what occurred in their lives, who they loved, when or how they died or anything else about them. But that they, before any of the large social movements ever began, stood up (or sat down) and said “No more.” cannot be in doubt. It took all the “little” people (giant though their small actions may be) to change the course of history or society. We did that. One by one, and together.

Gather that thought – draw it closely around you like a soft, comforting heirloom blanket, woven by an untold variety of fingers… blunt edged and worked roughened, crisscrossed with scars and lines, soft as a baby’s bottom, every color and size imaginable, each contributing a strand, gossamer fine and tough as tungsten… a weave to which each of us who work for justice and peace add our own unique patterns as we move through life, to be later passed on to those who come after us.

Never should we lose sight of all the work still to be done to bring about a just world, but we must not allow that to obscure our view of the triumphs already gained. The forces for justice, equality, dignity and humanity cannot and will not be denied… we are unbeatable, awe inspiring and effective. What do “the powers that be” fear most? Us, and what we can accomplish together, when we stand up for one another, and for the dignity and rights of every person.

There may be no time to rest on laurels, as we have a long ways to go yet, but there is always time to think of how far we really have come, and to remember… we did that. We are the unstoppable dynamism that has changed history, sometimes inch by inch, since the beginning of time and we are the ones that can and will do it again – and no one can take that away from us.

originally published Jan ’06, in Human Beams: Our Society
(with minor edits)

 

Chocolate Fudge Cheesecake Open Thread

My brain hurts from trying
to figure out the meaning of life.
Let’s indulge