Failure and the American Dream

I never thought I would agree with Bill O'Reilly on any issue . . .political, cultural, or economic. I am a dedicated progressive. But his article in yesterday's Parade magazine was dead on. The subject was the lessons that today's young people can learn from Obama's life story. http://www.parade.com/news/2009/08/09-what-obama-can-teach-americas-kids.html. The lessons are forgiveness, respect, persistence, hard work, and anything is possible. Yes, Obama shows us that anything is possible; the American dream is alive and well. But he didn't realize his dream by being afraid of failure. His parents did not protect him from trying and falling short and getting up and trying again. And this is a lesson learned as a child, not as an adult. We deprive our children of the American dream and stunt their growth as intelligent, innovative thinkers when we protect them from risk and they are never allowed to lose. It's about time we realized that failure is part of life and begin, once again, to teach our children that there is no shame in losing and that failure is an essential step toward the American dream.

Lies, Death, and Health Care Reform

I am a staunch advocate of freedom of speech. I abhor censorship in any form. So I do not think for one minute that Rush Limbaugh and his ilk should be silenced. However, I must ask the question. Why? Why do these talking heads lie with impunity? They are not stupid people. They must know that much of what they expound is based on easily recognizable falsehoods. Does freedom of speech give them the right to lie? Lying to a vulnerable population about the end-of-life counseling provision in the health care reform bill and using such words as euthanasia is cruel and insensitive. And telling such lies to gain power or money and inflate one's own ego is self absorption at its most harmful.

I do not agree with all provisions in the bill, but it's about time we discussed the merits of the legislation based on facts, not lies and innuendos.

Health Care Reform and "End of Life" Counseling

After listening, briefly, to some of the more strident talking heads, I have concluded that they must believe that everyone of my generation is either senile or stupid or cannot read. I fully understand that end-of-life counseling, as provided for in the health care reform bill, is simply a provision that pays doctors to tell us what options we have as we grow older. We have choices, and we definitely need to know what those choices are, think about them clearly, and make our wishes known to our loved ones before those choices are made for us by circumstances.

I have no problem with getting older. I am just as smart, active, and involved as I ever was. Perhaps more so now that I am no longer responsible for children. But I strongly resent the way these opponents of health care reform are distorting facts and scaring people. We need a healthy debate, but we need a debate that deals in facts. Seniors can go to www.whitehouse.gov and find out what this reform is really about. It's about time we considered the reality instead of the fog of fear and distortion that seems to surround this discussion.

More about Eagles

What magnificent creatures! When they were released, my spirit soard with them. I knew why my ancestors revered eagle feathers and gave them mystical powers. The experience of watching these birds rise in freedom and disappear was ineffable. It is about time that we remembered the power of nature to renew our spirits.

The joy of eagles

Today I am going to Mason Neck State Park and watch the Wildlife Center of Virginia release three bald eagles back into the wild. This occasion is historic. The first time in the 27 year history of the Center that they have released three eagles. This once-in-a-lifetime event reminded me of this extraordinary quotation from Herman Melville's Moby Dick.

"...and there is a Catskill eagle in some souls that can alike dive down into the blackest gorges, and soar out of them again and become invisible in the sunny spaces. And even if he forever flies within the gorge, that gorge is in the mountains; so that even in his lowest swoop the mountain eagle is still higher than the other birds upon the plain, even though they soar."
— Herman Melville

It's about time we remembered the eagle that lives in all of us and recapture that sense of amazing joy that visits us every day.

Fun in the emergency room

I have to admit that I have become really, really bored with the ongoing discussion on health care reform. I have been listening to the same arguments and the same lies for most of my life (and it has so far been a long one). Some things I know for certain. It is broken. It has been broken for years. We need to fix it. Last night I spent several hours in the emergency room with a friend. I discovered one aspect of our current system that is expensive and unnecessary. People use the emergency room as a primary care facility. In the entire three hours I was there, I saw only one real emergency. A young man had crashed his motorcycle and hit his head. He needed the emergency room. Emergency rooms are expensive. It would be much more cost effective if we provided inexpensive primary care for everyone and saved the expensive emergency room facilities for real emergencies. It's about time that we realized the value of good preventive and primary care or everyone.

Nancy Drew

An editorial in the Washington Post and several recent news stories reminded me that books can have an amazing impact on young readers. Seems some very prominent women were huge Nancy Drew fans during their most impressionable years. While I cannot claim prominence, I can include myself in this group. What did I learn from Nancy? That girls can take risks and succeed, be smart and self sufficient. Nancy could and did do anything, and so could I. For a young woman growing up in the fifties when gender bias and stereotypical roles were the accepted norm, the lessions learned from Nancy were invaluable. I have a Ph.D. because Nancy Drew taught me that I was clever enough and strong enough to rule! Those hours spent with the girl detective were some of the most productive of my life, and it's about time I said thank you!

April Fool

Every year at least one of my sons (I have four) catches me with a really stupid April Fool's joke. But this year I am ready and waiting. Come on guys! Where are you?

It's about time I managed to make it through April 1 and not get fooled.

Flat Stanley Visits DC

Trying to brand myself as a "really cool" great aunt, I took Flat Stanley to the National Capitol Mall yesterday. Now, for those of you who do not know Flat Stanley, he is a character in an elementary school book. Flat Stanley was, unfortunately, smashed flat by a falling bulletin board. Fortunately, because of this tragic accident, he can fold himself into an envelope and mail himself anywhere in the world. Therefore, he has become an interesting project for third graders. I received Flat Stanly from my great-nehphew Jake, who looks just like his father and lives in Arkansas.

So, Flat Stanley and I visited the Air and Space Museum, the Natural History Museum, and the national capitol. On Saturday, we are going to the World War II Memorial, The Viet Nam Memorial, the Washington Monument, the Lincoln Memorial, AND to see the Cherry Blossoms, if, that is, Great-aunt Janis holds up!

We met extraordinarily wonderful and friendly people on the Mall, many of whom had read FS's book or met him in other interesting ways. I had a great conversation with a very good looking, older French man, made friends with Marshall from Sebring, Florida,  watched the lunch-time joggers, and shared the afternoon with thousands of tourists. 

Thanks to my friend Flat Stanley, I rediscovered the magic of the National Capitol Mall. I needed a little "shot" of patriotism and pride, and I found it. And it's about time.

Birthdays

Today is my birthday. I will not reveal which one. Suffice it to say that I am a "woman of a certain age," who remembers the days before television, computers, cell phones, airplanes, and Face Book. But life just gets better and better, and I look forward to a decade even better than the last one!

Since I was born on St. Patrick's day, I am an honorary Irish person. (Actually, I am a Scot and a Cherokee.) Green, obviously, has played an important role in most of my celebrations. I particularly remember the year I turned seven. That morning I woke up deathly ill with the measles. High fever. Itchy rash. The upside was that I could stay home from school. The downside was that I was too sick to enjoy my day of freedom. I couldn't even read my book! (A real tragedy in my scheme of things.) My grandmother had made me a "dutch doll" quilt for my special day, and I lay warmed by the bright colors but feeling very put upon that my birthday was ruined. That afternoon, my mother came into the room, smiling and obviously very pleased with herself. In her hands she carried her masterpiece of a St. Patrick's day birthday cake. It was a brilliant shade of green with seven candles. I took one look at that green cake and promptly threw up on my beautiful quilt. To this day, I cannot abide green icing on anything!

Much later in my life, my sons (of which I have four) gave me a huge birthday party complete with a limousine, private room at a fine restaurant, surprise arrivals from those who lived far away, and the cruise of my choice as a gift. A memorable birthday, indeed, but no green birthday cake!

Each birthday brings gifts of insight, awareness, and growth. When I was seven I learned that no birthday can ever be ruined when someone loves you enough to bake you a cake, even one that makes you sick. My fancy, expensive birthday taught me that being surounded by family and friends is the real gift of life.

What lessons will I learn from this birthday? Perhaps that the blessings in my life go on and on and on, and it's about time I said thank you to all my family and my friends who help me celebrate my life 365 days a year.

Books

A friend just sent me the BBC list of 100 books. Seems the BBC thinks that most people will have read only 6 of the books on the list. I have read 78. I suppose that makes me a "book nerd" or "word nerd" or something similar. Ironically, I got this message on book club day. (Today we are discussing The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood. Not on the BBC list, but a great book)

I am definitely addicted to books. I had read my way through the childrens room at the Little Rock public library before I was in the 4th grade. Then I graduated to the "big library" and the meticulous censorship of the librarians. They were vigilant in keeping the "wrong" books out of the hands of young readers. However, I managed to sneak Forever Amber past their watchful eyes when I was in the 6th grade. I was mystified by the contents. We were not so sophisticated about sex in those days.

Since I have a Ph.D in literature, it is not remarkable that I have read 78 of the 100 books on the BBC list. But I have to ask myself how many of those books I really enjoyed. How many captured my imagination? Which do I remember fondly like old friends and reread often to recapture the magic? Why do I have this love affair with books?

I read books to learn. I have taught myself many skills through reading . . . knitting, weaving, computer skills, languages . . . I could go on forever.  Learning is important, but, for me, books are like trains . . . they take me to places I could never visit in person. They involve me in exotic adventures and introduce me to strange and wonderful characters that may or may not appear in my real life. Stories have given me the strength to persevere through hard times. Escapism? yes. But also life saving. Stories have inspired me, saved me from boredom, and helped me accomplish the impossible.

It is, in the last analysis, not books, but stories that rescue us. And we can find those stories in a multitude of forms. Comic books, good television, the spoken words of story tellers. Stories record the fabric of our lives and the emotions that hold that fabric together.

It's about time we cherished those stories, the writers who tell them, and the books that record them for history.

Trains

A few days ago, a friend sent me a link to a video clip of Arlo Guthrie and Pete Seeger in concert at Wolftrap (in Virginia). The year was 1997, and the song was"The City of New Orleans." I remember that concert. We were sitting on the lawn even though, by then, we could afford real seats. The blanket on the grass, the remnants of the picnic, and the empty wine bottles were the only real way to experience Arlo and Pete. But it is the song that always reaches out to me because trains run like a leitmotif throughout my life.

I was born into a railroad family. My grandfather, my father, and my uncle were all railroad engineers. So we rode the trains for free! We went everywhere on the train . . . thirty miles to my grandmother's or 300 miles to Dallas. Going anywhere by automobile was a luxury. The country was at war, factories were making weapons, not automobiles, and gasoline was rationed. Commercial air travel was virtually non existent. The train was the way to go. . . the only way.

During the war (WWII, by the way), I often took the train from Little Rock to Benton to visit my grandmother. The starting point was Union station, a crowded, bustling center of strange sights, interesting people, and magical possibilities. The high vaulted ceiling and the wooden pew-like benches made me think of church and evoked a kind of awe. But the real attraction was the newstand that held center stage. It was a wonderland of newspapers, books, magazines, candy bars, soft drinks . . . all the essentials for a long train ride. Union Station in Little Rock is now a mini-mall with small shops, restaurants, and bars.

I always sat next to the conductor (a family friend). The time passed quickly. I was very, very busy looking at my new comic books, drinking icy water from the triangle paper cups at the water fountain, and exploring the rest room. Soon I was waving to my grandmother waiting patiently for me on the platform. 

I rode the train to Memphis to visit my cousins; I rode the train to Dallas when I went away to college. In 1960, I finally went on my first airplane adventure. I was not impressed, but planes replaced trains, and my love affair with the rails gave way to the need for speed.

However, I've experienced a few remarkable train trips since then. In the late 80s, before the Berlin wall came down, I was in Czechoslovakia and took a train from Pilsan to Prague, a unique and memorable journey through an eastern bloc country that gave me insights I still value. During the 90s, I took the train from Amersterdam to Paris. Just a few years ago, I took the night train from San Franciso to Portland. When I woke up high in the Cascades, above the snow line, I fel in love all over again.

It's about time we brought back the magic of trains.