Sandwiched In

Please pass two whole-grain bread slices. Now that my husband Ed and I are part of the sandwich generation, it’s time for us to crawl between them.

We live in an intergenerational household: he and I and our two sons, Neil (11) and Jared (4), on the upstairs floor of our home, and Ed’s parents, A and D, in the downstairs apartment. Our 23-year-old daughter, Becky, lives in a nearby town with her fiancé. I work full time, in a home office, as a freelance copyeditor. Ed commutes just over an hour each way to his job as a cabinetmaker. A and D help me by taking Neil to his weekly guitar lessons and Jared to his preschool three time a week; this allows me to get in enough billable work hours each week.

A, who’ll turn 70 near the end of May, needs knee-replacement surgery. The degeneration of his knee joint gives him so much pain that he waddles like a penguin. Before he can have the surgery, though, his doctors have required him to undergo a series of tests: blood work, stress tests, and prostate biopsy—the latter because his prostate-specific antigen, or PSA, levels have been astronomically high for years and the docs want to make sure that they won’t be doing surgery on a man with cancer.

Meanwhile, D, who’ll turn 71 in just 9 days, has been having neck pain, making it difficult for her to drive, bend in various ways, and even sleep. Her doctor suspects damage to the discs in her neck or a pinched nerve. She needed to undergo magnetic resonance imaging (MRI) so she could get her condition diagnosed.

Tuesday was Allan’s prostate biopsy. Foreshadowing: The procedure was done at the local VA (Veterans Affairs) hospital.

D drove him home afterward; everything seemed fine. He even dropped Jared off at preschool Wednesday morning.

But not long afterward, he started to shake uncontrollably. D called the hospital and was told to take his temperature. It was 103°F. Time for him to go to the hospital ER; he had an infection. How did we know? The same thing—at the same hospital—happened a few years ago after the same procedure.

D had to drive A to the hospital. I lost work because I had to pick Jared up after preschool was done. But before I could do that, I had to pick Neil up from middle school because otherwise, no one would have been home for him when the school bus dropped him off.

A didn't end up staying at the hospital. He complained so much about how much the hospital would charge him to stay—“Eight hundred dollars they’ll charge me! I don’t have that kind of money!”—that the docs released him AMA (against medical advice) the same day, after pumping him full of antibiotics intravenously.

Yesterday was D’s MRI appointment. Though A was feeling a bit weak, she didn’t want to reschedule, because her neck pain has been going on for a few weeks now. So I took off work again, this time to drive her to the appointment and let A stay home and rest. I brought along Jared, for whom it wasn’t a school day. I knew that the scan would take a while, so I made arrangements for Neil to go to the next-door neighbor's house if I got back home after his bus arrived. Jared was fine the whole 90 minutes; he and I sat in our van, all the windows open and the side doors open to catch the breeze, and played with the Etch A Sketch, read, and talked. (Jared, like his sister before him, is a very easy child.) Meanwhile, I was sitting there thinking that I'll have to work this weekend to make up for all of my lost work time so that I can meet my clients’ deadlines.

We got back home 10 minutes before Neil's bus showed up. Jared and I decided to wait in the front yard for Neil. Meanwhile, D came out of the house to say that she had taken A's temperature, and it was 103! Back to the hospital, this time to stay for a while. But I couldn’t drive him, because I had both boys, and even easy Jared wouldn't last through a 40-minute drive to the VA hospital, getting A admitted, and then another 40-minute drive home. I didn’t think D should drive A because of her neck problems and the muscle relaxant she was given so she wouldn't freak out during the MRI. I called Ed, and he left work early, at 3 p.m., so he could take his father to the hospital. You’ll recall that it takes just over an hour from his job to home.

Poor Ed—and poor A. The VA hospital got A catheterized pretty quickly, but they didn’t start pumping him full of IV antibiotics or officially admit him until his lab test results came back ... at about 8:30 p.m. I did tell you that this is a VA hospital, didn’t I? Ed didn’t want to leave A until he was settled in a room and no longer shaking from fever, and that didn’t happen until almost 10 p.m.! Ed finally had some pizza for dinner just after 10.

At least maybe this whole episode will teach thick-headed A that when the docs say he needs to stay in the hospital, it’s time not to gripe repeatedly about money to every caregiver he sees—and risk alienating them—but to keep quiet, stay still, and recuperate. And if I were him, I for damn sure wouldn’t want to have my knee-replacement surgery done in a VA hospital!

I’m hoping I’ll get to work all day today. But just in case, keep a slice of bread ready for me to crash on. If I don’t need it today, I’ll need it again soon. Taking care of the in-laws as they age is going to fall mostly to me, not because Ed doesn’t want to do it but because I’m here all the time and am self-employed.

Updated 3/31/06, 1:20 p.m.: A nurse in D's doctor's office called to say that the MRI results are in. D has a herniated disk in her neck. The doc hasn't called yet about what the treatment will be, but herniated disks in the neck usually don't require surgery, just hot or cold packs, meds for the pain, a neck brace (which D's already wearing), and physical therapy.

9:15 p.m.: A's doctor says he has prostate cancer. The doc doesn't think the side effects of either external-beam radiation therapy or brachytherapy (also known as seed therapy) are worth it in A's case, so A will be in the hospital a few more days so that he can undergo a radical prostatectomy.

Further update here.



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Keep Out of Iran

The first time George Bush stole office, I predicted to my husband that Bush would end up starting World War III before he left the White House. The threats he's making now to Iran sure make it look as if he's trying to prove me right, one country at a time.

And that means it's time for another EditorMom design with a message.

You can find lapel buttons, stickers, T-shirts, sweatshirts, hats, tote bags, coffee mugs, and more here.



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The War That Never Ends

It's three years after "Shock and Awe" began. Feel any safer? I don't.

We're still at the mercy of Bushco. The Democrats have shown they have no spine. No one in power is pushing hard enough to impeach both Bush and Cheney.

At best, the world mistrusts the U.S.; at worst, the world hates it. The U.S. tortures its prisoners or subcontracts out the torturing to other countries. It sees demons everywhere; I have no doubt that the Iraq war will continue indefinitely and that the U.S. will begin a war in Iran.


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Sing for the Cure

If you'll be on Long Island the first weekend in April, you can hear gorgeous music performed by my favorite GLBT chorus, the New Century Singers, and help raise money to defeat breast cancer. These singers have the voices of angels; they've performed at Carnegie Hall. Listen to a snippet of them singing.

They'll be performing Sing for the Cure, a work commissioned by the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation as a way of honoring the stories of breast cancer survivors and the friends and families of those who did not survive. Librettist Pamela Martin interviewed scores of people whose unique stories comprise the narration and lyrics for ten songs set to the music of ten composers, each of whom has been touched by breast cancer in some way.

Concert proceeds will benefit Babylon Breast Cancer Coalition, Cure Mommy's Breast Cancer, Huntington Breast Cancer Action Coalition, the Long Island Lesbian Cancer Initiative, Thursday's Child, and other local grassroots breast cancer support groups.

When: Sunday, April 2, 2006, 4:30 p.m.
Where: Patchogue Theatre for the Performing Arts, 71 East Main Street, Patchogue, New York
Cost: $25.00 for adults; $22.00 for children, senior citizens, and students
How to purchase tickets: Go to the theater box office (12:00–6:00 p.m., Tuesday–Sunday), call (631) 207-1313, or go to the theater's web site.

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Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation New Century Singers Sing for the Cure
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Survey on Queer Family Culture

This post is for those of my readers who are gay, lesbian, bisexual, or transgender or who have friends or family members who are.

Troy McGinnis, a doctoral student at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, tells me that he is conducting a study of gay and lesbian family relationships and culture. "I am trying to determine just how different GLBT values and beliefs about family and relationships actually are from the heterosexual majority. I want to know what social forces or demographic characteristics condition a 'pro-marriage' attitude among lesbians and gays. ... The survey is hosted on my personal web site and is conducted under a protocol approved by the Institutional Review Board at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas. You can view information about it or even preview the survey if you wish at the following URL: http://www.socioscape.com/quo. Note that the actual questionnaire is resident on a secure server."

Please consider taking the survey. And please pass the word. Thank you.



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Another Straight for GLBT Rights

When I think about my brother Wally, I picture a sweetheart of a man who'll make someone a fine husband.

But once he falls in love with Mr. Right, the laws of most U.S. states will discriminate against the two of them and won't allow them to marry. And in most states, he won't be allowed to designate Mr. Right as his spouse on his insurance policies. Or to be called next of kin should Mr. Right land in a hospital.

In most U.S. houses of worship, he isn't welcome because he's gay. Wherever he goes, there are hatemongers ready to deny him basic human rights.

And that pisses me off, so I want to start a campaign: I want straight people to openly support full civil rights and full religious rights for gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender people. I want all of the homophobes out there to see that there's no such thing as a "homosexual agenda"—just the need for human rights for everyone.

All of you straights out there, please join me. Wear T-shirts and sweatshirts and lapel buttons and hats, carry tote bags, use next-to-the-postage-stamp stickers and coffee mugs that bear the message "Another Straight for GLBT rights; it's time to end the hate."


Feel free to place the "Another straight for GLBT rights" art on your blog or web site, but please link it to http://www.cafepress.com/editormom/1266905, and add this note:

Design copyright © 2006 by Katharine O'Moore-Klopf

The image source is http://www.kokedit.com/art/straight_GLBT_blogsize.jpg. If you need a smaller size, the source is http://www.kokedit.com/art/straight_GLBT_blogsize2.jpg.



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Punishing Female Sexuality

It's International Women's Day, and this year's theme is the role of women in decision making. Looks like nobody gave South Dakota a heads-up about it. In passing an abortion ban, the state has sent a clear message that women aren't to be trusted with making even the most personal decisions.

I'm the mother of three children, and I'm opposed to any abortion ban. It's not that abortion is wonderful. It's that abortion should be available as an emergency measure in very difficult situations—situations that powerful male politicians can in no way fathom.

In passing an abortion ban, South Dakota is saying that women are valuable only as conduits for babies, that their lives are otherwise worthless.

South Dakota is saying that the father or uncle or a neighbor who rapes and impregnates a girl or woman is worth much more than she is. She will have to raise or give up for adoption a child created by hate and brutal force.

South Dakota is not saving babies. It is punishing female sexuality. If politicians truly wanted to reduce the number of abortions, they would ensure that contraception and medically accurate sex education were readily available to everyone.

Please, please go to this site, sponsored by Planned Parenthood, and use the tools there to write a letter to South Dakota Governor Mike Rounds and your state's governor and to write letters to the editors of your area newspapers.



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Back to the Dark Ages

The battle to retake complete control of women's bodies is at fever pitch in South Dakota:

South Dakota governor signs abortion ban
Nearly all operations outlawed in direct challenge to Roe v. Wade

pierre, s.d.—Gov. Mike Rounds signed legislation Monday banning nearly all abortions in South Dakota, setting up a court fight aimed at challenging the 1973 U.S. Supreme Court decision that legalized abortion.

The bill would make it a crime for doctors to perform an abortion unless the procedure was necessary to save the woman's life. It would make no exception for cases of rape or incest. ...

Mark Morford, San Francisco Chronicle columnist, urges women to leave South Dakota:

It is time. Pack it up. Strip the bed, box up the cat, load the U-Haul, call your hip friends over in Minneapolis, move out West, or East, or anywhere with a mind-set not stuck like a bloody nail in the moral coffin of 1845. Let this be your clarion call. Get the hell out, right now.

Here is why: Your state hates you. ...

It's not just South Dakota. It's all of the United States. We are returning to the Dark Ages, step by step, losing one right after another.


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Walking the Walk

Okay, I'll come clean.

A heavy workload hasn't been all that's keeping me from posting here. I've had writer's block. It's not that there aren't plenty of stupid, fumbling acts by the Bush administration to serve as fodder. It's not even my continuing search for affordable health insurance getting in the way. It's a deep spiritual sadness that's silenced my voice. Now before you go running off in fear and loathing, let me say that I'm a progressive Christian—you'll hear none of that holy roller ban-abortion-and-put-prayer-back-in-schools stuff from me. Here's the story:

My husband Ed and I are looking for a new church home. We're looking into the United Church of Christ (UCC), the denomination with the cool "bouncer" commercial with the message that everyone, regardless of race or ethnicity or sexual orientation or gender identity, is welcome in church, because God doesn't discriminate.

We've been members of a local Presbyterian church since 1995. Our two sons were baptized there; I sang alto in the choir. Ed served as a deacon¹ and a chaperone on several youth group retreats; I served on Session² and on the Spiritual Life and Mission Committees. Our joining that particular church coincided with the arrival of a new pastor. We loved her sermons and her social activism. She inspired us to actually act on our beliefs, championing equal rights for gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender (GLBT) people and participating in peace rallies and protest marches. We were quite active church members. But this past November, after a tenure of almost 11 years, that pastor left to serve at another Presbyterian church.

We've come to see that our congregation is overall rather conservative and doesn't want to rock the boat on any issue, so it often avoids walking the walk even though it talks the talk. Having joined just about the time that the progressive pastor arrived, we didn't realize for many years just how conservative the congregation is; we mistook her views for the congregation's. We began to realize this just over a year ago, well before she left. Conservative isn't necessarily bad; it just doesn't create an atmosphere in which we feel we can make much of a difference in the world, locally or otherwise, when few want to consider anything not conservative. Even though our former pastor knows how we feel and urged us, before she left, to hang in there at the church, we feel as if we have been pushing a boulder uphill at church for several years now, being two of the few liberal progressives there. That takes more strength than we have. Even she, as a pastor, was worn down by the conservatives there.

We'd like a more activist arena in which we can put what we learn in church on Sundays to work the rest of the week, without feeling that it takes extraordinary effort each time to do so for anything other than "safe" issues such as world hunger. That takes a huge amount of emotional energy. We don't think that everyone in a UCC church will agree with everything we believe or vice versa, but we do think that there will be enough agreement there to enable more work to be done in the community on the issues that we feel called to work on.

Not many members of our local Presbyterian church want to deal at all with GLBT laypeople and GLBT ministers and their lack of rights in the Presbyterian Church USA (PCUSA). Our church still sponsors a local Boy Scout troop even though the national organization Boy Scouts of America officially discriminates against GLBT people, which makes it appear that the church endorses such discrimination. In helping to put together an October 2004 Reformation Sunday worship service on justice versus exclusion, we encountered a great deal of resistance to the prospect of dealing with GLBT rights. After the service—which many people appeared to enjoy and which featured the gorgeous music of the New Century Singers, a GLBT chorus—we were told that our church "talks about the gay issue too much." (I guess some people don't mind enjoying stirring music performed by GLBT people, as long as they don't have to mingle with "those people" in church on a regular basis.) We were told that our church needs to "keep its head down" and not "make waves."

And very few church members want to deal with the fact that Americans are committing a sin by torturing Iraqi prisoners of war and by sending them to facilities in other nations to be tortured. The PCUSA recently sponsored discussions about the immorality of torture, yet our local church won't even discuss the issue openly because "it's political." Damn it, life is political! And if progressives of every stripe—religious or not—don't start speaking up, America—and then the rest of the world—is going to be taken over by radical fundamentalists of various kinds. We'll have no rights and we'll live in an atmosphere of constant mistrust, punishment, and hatred.

Over the years, Ed and I have come to believe that we can't remain silent when we see human rights being denied. We believe that to remain silent is to not live our faith. We believe that we are called to make a difference, and we want to be in a place where we can do that, not just say, "That was a great sermon!" and then take no action because we know no one else wants to. We don't want to keep our heads down. We don't want to keep quiet just because it's considered bad form in the church to speak up about equal rights for GLBT people or to speak out against U.S. torture of Iraqi prisoners. Even if right now our life situation—heavy workloads, an engaged daughter, a middle-schooler, and a prekindergartner—makes us very short on time to serve in various positions in a church, we'd like to feel that we are in a place where our service would have much more of an effect when our situation changes again.

The sadness comes from knowing that we're going to miss seeing a lot of good friends each week. It comes from feeling spiritually homeless. It comes from realizing that what we thought we saw wasn't reality. There's enough garbage going on in this country that it hurts not to have a community of like-minded activists—people who will say, "Yes, let's work together on that problem. Together, we can make a difference."

____________________

1. In the PCUSA, deacons are ordained to minister to those who are in need, sick, friendless, and in distress. They sometimes take on other duties that are delegated to them by the pastor or Session, including assisting with serving Communion.


2. In the PCUSA, the Session is the governing body of the individual church. Only those church members who have been ordained as church elders can be elected to serve on the Session.

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Hate, and the World Hates with You

George Bush hates, and America hates with him. America hates, and hatred roils the world. Says columnist Mark Morford:

We are, right now, the biggest brute in the sandbox, taunting everyone to a fight and drawing the world more and more into our bilious screw-you, kill-'em-all attitude, even as we suffer cultural asthma and our national infrastructure crumbles and our hospitals fail and school systems collapse and our coffers are bled dry by the most corrupt and irresponsible federal administration in your lifetime.

In short, we make it more OK for the rest of the world to rage, despoil, hate. We set the tone. We're not merely tormenting unfriendly nations, we're actively messing with them, rigging their political systems and steamrolling their beliefs. We are, by way of toxic foreign policy and a mad rush to war and a leader who is about as world-wise and savvy as a trailer hitch, making the world a nastier place in which to live.

Read the rest. It's worth your time.



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Still Alive and Kicking

No, I have not fallen off the face of the earth. It's just that February's been one project deadline after another, so I've had a lot of 7-day workweeks. I shall return!



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Looking for Health Care Horror Stories

You've all read my health care horror stories: here, here, here, here, here, and here.

I'm sure lots of you have horror stories too. Filmmaker Michael Moore is making a new film called Sicko, about the mess that is the U.S. health care system. Write him with your story. I've sent him mine.



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Letting Africa Burn

In case you missed it, Bono spoke yesterday at the National Prayer Breakfast and took U.S. leaders to task for letting Africa burn—letting racism dictate how little America gives to combat the AIDS epidemic there:

If you’re wondering what I’m doing here, at a prayer breakfast, well, so am I. I’m certainly not here as a man of the cloth, unless that cloth is leather. It’s certainly not because I’m a rock star. Which leaves one possible explanation: I’m here because I’ve got a messianic complex.

Yes, it’s true. And for anyone who knows me, it’s hardly a revelation.

Well, I’m the first to admit that there’s something unnatural ... something unseemly ... about rock stars mounting the pulpit and preaching at presidents, and then disappearing to their villas in the south of France. Talk about a fish out of water. It was
weird enough when Jesse Helms showed up at a U2 concert ... but this is really weird, isn’t it?

You know, one of the things I love about this country is its separation of church and state. Although I have to say: in inviting me here, both church and state have been separated from something else completely: their mind.

Mr. President, are you sure about this?

It’s very humbling and I will try to keep my homily brief. But be warned—I’m Irish.

I’d like to talk about the laws of man, here in this city where those laws are written. And I’d like to talk about higher laws. It would be great to assume that the one serves the other; that the laws of man serve these higher laws...but of course, they don’t always. And I presume that, in a sense, is why you’re here.

I presume the reason for this gathering is that all of us here—Muslims, Jews, Christians—all are searching our souls for how to better serve our family, our community, our nation, our God.

I know I am. Searching, I mean. And that, I suppose, is what led me here, too.

Yes, it’s odd, having a rock star here—but maybe it’s odder for me than for you. You see, I avoided religious people most of my life. Maybe it had something to do with having a father who was Protestant and a mother who was Catholic in a country where the line between the two was, quite literally, a battle line. Where the line between church and state was ... well, a little blurry, and hard to see.

I remember how my mother would bring us to chapel on Sundays ... and my father used to wait outside. One of the things that I picked up from my father and my mother was the sense that religion often gets in the way of God.

For me, at least, it got in the way. Seeing what religious people, in the name of God, did to my native land...and in this country, seeing God’s second-hand car salesmen on the cable TV channels, offering indulgences for cash ... in fact, all over the world, seeing the self-righteousness roll down like a mighty stream from certain corners of the religious establishment...

I must confess, I changed the channel. I wanted my MTV.

Even though I was a believer.

Perhaps because I was a believer.

I was cynical ... not about God, but about God’s politics. (There you are, Jim.)

Then, in 1997, a couple of eccentric, septuagenarian British Christians went and ruined my shtick—my reproachfulness. They did it by describing the millennium, the year 2000, as a Jubilee year, as an opportunity to cancel the chronic debts of the world’s poorest people. They had the audacity to renew the Lord’s call—and were joined by Pope John Paul II, who, from an Irish half-Catholic’s point of view, may have had a more direct line to the Almighty.

Jubilee—why Jubilee?

What was this year of Jubilee, this year of our Lord’s favor?

I’d always read the scriptures, even the obscure stuff. There it was in Leviticus (25:35) ...

"If your brother becomes poor," the scriptures say, "and cannot maintain himself ... you shall maintain him.... You shall not lend him your money at interest, not give him your food for profit."

It is such an important idea, Jubilee, that Jesus begins his ministry with this. Jesus is a young man, he’s met with the rabbis, impressed everyone, people are talking. The elders say, he’s a clever guy, this Jesus, but he hasn’t done much ... yet. He hasn’t spoken in public before ...

When he does, his first words are from Isaiah: "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,’ he says, ‘because He has anointed me to preach good news to the poor." And Jesus proclaims the year of the Lord’s favour, the year of Jubilee (Luke 4:18).

What he was really talking about was an era of grace—and we’re still in it.

So fast-forward 2,000 years. That same thought, grace, was made incarnate—in a movement of all kinds of people. It wasn’t a bless-me club ... it wasn’t a holy huddle. These religious guys were willing to get out in the streets, get their boots dirty, wave the placards, follow their convictions with actions...making it really hard for people like me to keep their distance. It was amazing. I almost started to like these church people.

But then my cynicism got another helping hand.

It was what Colin Powell, a five-star general, called the greatest WMD of them all: a tiny little virus called AIDS. And the religious community, in large part, missed it. The ones that didn’t miss it could only see it as divine retribution for bad behaviour. Even on children ... even [though the] fastest growing group of HIV infections were married,
faithful women.

Aha, there they go again! I thought to myself. Judgmentalism is back!

But in truth, I was wrong again. The church was slow but the church got busy on this the leprosy of our age.

Love was on the move.

Mercy was on the move.

God was on the move.

Moving people of all kinds to work with others they had never met, never would have cared to meet ... conservative church groups hanging out with spokesmen for the gay community, all singing off the same hymn sheet on AIDS ... soccer moms and quarterbacks ... hiphop stars and country stars. This is what happens when God gets on the move: crazy stuff happens!

Popes were seen wearing sunglasses!

Jesse Helms was seen with a ghetto blaster!

Crazy stuff. Evidence of the spirit.

It was breathtaking. Literally. It stopped the world in its tracks.

When churches started demonstrating on debt, governments listened—and acted. When churches starting organising, petitioning, and even—that most unholy of acts today, God forbid, lobbying ... on AIDS and global health, governments listened—and acted.

I’m here today in all humility to say: you changed minds; you changed policy; you changed the world.

Look, whatever thoughts you have about God, who He is or if He exists, most will agree that if there is a God, He has a special place for the poor. In fact, the poor are where God lives.

Check Judaism. Check Islam. Check pretty much anyone.

I mean, God may well be with us in our mansions on the hill. I hope so. He may well be with us as in all manner of controversial stuff. Maybe, maybe not. But the one thing we can all agree, all faiths and ideologies, is that God is with the vulnerable and poor.

God is in the slums, in the cardboard boxes where the poor play house. God is in the silence of a mother who has infected her child with a virus that will end both their lives. God is in the cries heard under the rubble of war. God is in the debris of wasted opportunity and lives, and God is with us if we are with them. “If you remove the yoke from your midst, the pointing of the finger and speaking wickedness, and if you give yourself to the hungry and satisfy the desire of the afflicted, then your light will rise in darkness and your gloom with become like midday and the Lord will continually guide you and satisfy your desire in scorched places.”

It’s not a coincidence that in the scriptures, poverty is mentioned more than 2,100 times. It’s not an accident. That’s a lot of air time, 2,100 mentions. (You know, the only time Christ is judgmental is on the subject of the poor.) "As you have done it unto the least of these my brethren, you have done it unto me" (Matthew 25:40). As I say, good news to the poor.

Here’s some good news for the president. After 9/11 we were told America would have no time for the world’s poor. America would be taken up with its own problems of safety. And it’s true these are dangerous times, but America has not drawn the blinds and double-locked the doors.

In fact, you have doubled aid to Africa. You have tripled funding for global health. Mr. President, your emergency plan for AIDS relief and support for the Global Fund—you and Congress—have put 700,000 people onto life-saving anti-retroviral drugs and provided 8 million bed nets to protect children from malaria.

Outstanding human achievements. Counterintuitive. Historic. Be very, very proud.

But here’s the bad news. From charity to justice, the good news is yet to come. There is much more to do. There’s a gigantic chasm between the scale of the emergency and the scale of the response.

And finally, it’s not about charity after all, is it? It’s about justice.

Let me repeat that: It’s not about charity, it’s about justice.

And that’s too bad.

Because you’re good at charity. Americans, like the Irish, are good at it. We like to give, and we give a lot, even those who can’t afford it.

But justice is a higher standard. Africa makes a fool of our idea of justice; it makes a farce of our idea of equality. It mocks our pieties, it doubts our concern, it questions our commitment.

Sixty-five hundred Africans are still dying every day of a preventable, treatable disease, for lack of drugs we can buy at any drug store. This is not about charity, this is about justice and equality.

Because there’s no way we can look at what’s happening in Africa and, if we’re honest, conclude that deep down, we really accept that Africans are equal to us. Anywhere else in the world, we wouldn’t accept it. Look at what happened in South East Asia with the tsunami. 150,000 lives lost to that misnomer of all misnomers, “Mother Nature.” In Africa, 150,000 lives are lost every month. A tsunami every month. And it’s a completely avoidable catastrophe.

It’s annoying but justice and equality are mates. Aren’t they? Justice always wants to hang out with equality. And equality is a real pain.

You know, think of those Jewish sheep-herders going to meet the Pharaoh, mud on their shoes, and the Pharaoh says, “Equal?” A preposterous idea: rich and poor are equal? And they say, “Yeah, ‘equal,’ that’s what it says here in this book. We’re all made in the image of God.”

And eventually the Pharaoh says, “OK, I can accept that. I can accept the Jews—but not the blacks.”

“Not the women. Not the gays. Not the Irish. No way, man.”

So on we go with our journey of equality.

On we go in the pursuit of justice.

We hear that call in the ONE Campaign, a growing movement of more than 2 million Americans ... Left and Right together ... united in the belief that where you live should no longer determine whether you live.

We hear that call even more powerfully today, as we mourn the loss of Coretta Scott King—mother of a movement for equality, one that changed the world but is only just getting started. These issues are as alive as they ever were; they just change shape and cross the seas.

Preventing the poorest of the poor from selling their products while we sing the virtues of the free market ... that’s a justice issue. Holding children to ransom for the debts of their grandparents ... that’s a justice issue. Withholding life-saving medicines out of deference to the Office of Patents ... that’s a justice issue.

And while the law is what we say it is, God is not silent on the subject.

That’s why I say there’s the law of the land…. And then there is a higher standard. There’s the law of the land, and we can hire experts to write them so they benefit us, so the laws say it’s OK to protect our agriculture but it’s not OK for African farmers to do the same, to earn a living?

As the laws of man are written, that’s what they say.

God will not accept that.

Mine won’t, at least. Will yours?

[pause]

I close this morning on ... very ... thin ... ice.

This is a dangerous idea I’ve put on the table: my God vs. your God, their God vs. our God ... versus no God. It is very easy, in these times, to see religion as a force for division rather than unity.

And this is a town—Washington—that knows something of division.

But the reason I am here, and the reason I keep coming back to Washington, is because this is a town that is proving it can come together on behalf of what the scriptures call the least of these.

This is not a Republican idea. It is not a Democratic idea. It is not even, with all due
respect, an American idea. Nor it is unique to any one faith.

"Do to others as you would have them do to you" (Luke 6:30). Jesus says that.

"Righteousness is this: that one should ... give away wealth out of love for him to the near of kin and the orphans and the needy and the wayfarer and the beggars and for the emancipation of the captives." The Koran says that (2.177).

Thus sayeth the Lord: "Bring the homeless poor into the house, when you see the naked, cover him, then your light will break out like the dawn and your recovery will speedily spring forth, then your Lord will be your rear guard." The Jewish scripture says that. Isaiah 58 again.

That is a powerful incentive: "The Lord will watch your back." Sounds like a good deal to me, right now.

A number of years ago, I met a wise man who changed my life. In countless ways, large and small, I was always seeking the Lord’s blessing. I was saying, you know, I have a new song, look after it…. I have a family, please look after them…. I have this crazy idea ...

And this wise man said: Stop.

He said, Stop asking God to bless what you’re doing.

Get involved in what God is doing—because it’s already blessed.

Well, God, as I said, is with the poor. That, I believe, is what God is doing.

And that is what he’s calling us to do.

I was amazed when I first got to this country and I learned how much some churchgoers tithe. Up to 10% of the family budget. Well, how does that compare with the federal budget, the budget for the entire American family? How much of that goes to the poorest people in the world? Less than 1%.

Mr. President, Congress, people of faith, people of America:

I want to suggest to you today that you see the flow of effective foreign assistance as tithing.... Which, to be truly meaningful, will mean an additional 1% of the federal budget tithed to the poor.

What is 1%?

1% is not merely a number on a balance sheet.

1% is the girl in Africa who gets to go to school, thanks to you. 1% is the AIDS patient who gets her medicine, thanks to you. 1% is the African entrepreneur who can start a small family business, thanks to you. 1% is not redecorating presidential palaces or money flowing down a rat hole. This 1% is digging waterholes to provide clean water.

1% is a new partnership with Africa, not paternalism toward Africa, where increased assistance flows toward improved governance and initiatives with proven track records and away from boondoggles and white elephants of every description.

America gives less than 1% now. We’re asking for an extra 1% to change the world. To transform millions of lives—but not just that, and I say this to the military men now—to transform the way that they see us.

1% is national security, enlightened economic self-interest, and a better, safer world rolled into one. Sounds to me that in this town of deals and compromises, 1% is the best bargain around.

These goals—clean water for all, school for every child, medicine for the afflicted, an end to extreme and senseless poverty—these are not just any goals; they are the Millennium Development goals, which this country supports. And they are more than that. They are the Beatitudes for a globalised world.

Now, I’m very lucky. I don’t have to sit on any budget committees. And I certainly don’t have to sit where you do, Mr. President. I don’t have to make the tough choices.

But I can tell you this:

To give 1% more is right. It’s smart. And it’s blessed.

There is a continent—Africa—being consumed by flames.

I truly believe that when the history books are written, our age will be remembered for three things: the war on terror, the digital revolution, and what we did—or did not do—to put the fire out in Africa. History, like God, is watching what we do.

Thank you. Thank you, America, and God bless you all.

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State of Illusion

I'm playing Beat the Clock today, as I absolutely must ship out a rush project today, but I'm taking a short break to send you to Anna Quindlen's excellent column in the February 6 issue of Newsweek about the real state of the union:

"My fellow Americans, the state of the Union is ... "

Confident. Strong. Stronger than ever.

Dire. Disturbing. Disastrous.

Those last three are the ones the speechwriter will never use. But at the moment they're far closer to the truth. ...

The young, the poor, the outsourced, the uneducated, the overqualified: so many Americans have this sense of profound malaise. Of course, that's the ailment that dare not speak its name (and not just because the word is French); look what happened to Jimmy Carter when he dared to talk of a national "crisis of confidence." He found himself traded in for the so-much-cheerier "morning in America."

It's not morning. It's not even afternoon. There's not much union in the state, just one fissure after another. ...

[Read more.]

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Out of the Mouth of Babes

Said my 4-year-old son, Jared, doing some playacting while a Star Wars movie played in the background: "I'll be Darth Bush. He has the worstest light saber ever—it's black."



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Mending the State of Disunion

Here's a memo to Bush from the Fellowship of Reconciliation that I wish I'd written:

Urgent memo
To: George W. Bush
From: Fellowship of Reconciliation
Subject: State of the Union

Dear Mr. President,

Thank you for asking the Fellowship of Reconciliation to prepare State of the Union talking points for you. We share your deep concern for the state of this nation and the world, and are pleased to help you shape a forward-thinking vision at this critical time.

Mr. President, now is the time to address the conditions of decay, distrust, and deception that will otherwise become the legacy of this administration and Congress. Our nation needs to be able to trust its elected leaders again. As a person of faith, you surely recognize that for the American people to move forward to a spirit of forgiveness and reconciliation, the way to begin this process is to speak the truth.

This will be painful. You will have to acknowledge the lies and mismanagement that have been a hallmark of the past four years. You must take responsibility for the manipulated evidence that led to the war in Iraq and the terribly inadequate response to Hurricane Katrina; forswear the policies and practices of torture and illegal surveillance; and take concrete steps to distance yourself from the corruption and scandal that is implicating members of your administration and old business associates.

You must announce an exit strategy from Iraq and Afghanistan. This should encompass the withdrawal of our soldiers by the end of 2006, leaving the region clean of U.S. military bases. The growth of bases in the two countries is a key reason why Iran has
increased its militant rhetoric.

A moral presidency demands a firm commitment to the peoples of the world that their lives will be free of foreign aggression and occupation. Let us seize the momentum from the recent democratic elections in Iraq to show the Middle East and the world that the United States is not an occupying empire or a bullying superpower.

On the domestic front, the nation’s economic health should be a top priority. The gap between rich and poor Americans has grown to historic levels, with the richest five percent making almost 1,500% more than the poorest 20 percent, and CEOs making 431 times more than the average worker. Couple this with the skyrocketing cost of energy—the price of oil is now approaching $70 a barrel—and you will understand why many people are getting desperate.

What can you do? Start by doubling the national minimum wage from $5.15 to $10.30, which will at least approach a living wage. Then acknowledge that your tax cut policies don’t help anyone except the wealthy. Last year, two million jobs were created, but this was less than 40% of what your Council of Economic Advisors had predicted, and only half what a normal job growth figure would have been without the tax cuts. Specifically, you should call for a reinstatement of the Estate Tax, which even many rich Americans (like Bill Gates) have acknowledged was a fair tax on their wealth.

We know that health care is a major concern for you. Seize the moment! Now is the time to call for a universal health care policy for the United States. There is no good reason why we, the wealthiest nation in the world, are also the only industrialized democracy that doesn't have health coverage for all its citizens. We are very concerned by reports that you seek to further privatize the system, rather than creating more governmental support for the least of us—those who cannot afford what is currently offered.

Are you worried about the budget implications? This recommitment to health care, the reconstruction of the region around New Orleans, a strong environmental program, and a balanced education policy (like a fully funded No Child Left Behind Act) are all eminently possible. Once you steer the nation away from wars of aggression abroad, some of our bloated, $400 billion–plus military budget can be reallocated towards education, renewable energy, and economic development. Creating a strong social safety net and a healthy population must be a top priority, since we cannot afford to be "Left Behind" in the the competitive global skills market.

Mr. President, as a man of faith, you are certainly aware of the words of the prophet Micah, “What does the Lord require of you but to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God?” This nation and the world could use some justice, mercy and humility right now. We look forward to your State of the Union address tomorrow as an opportunity to help our country respond to Micah’s challenge and regain our spiritual compass.

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Rough Time

So many things to do, so little time.

The Bush administration's doing the usual outrageous things, yet I have no time to comment on them. I'm doing on a rush project and trying to finish another (nonrush) project, both for the same client, so I've been working 7 days a week lately. On top of that, I'm not so happy with my Presbyterian church because I've gradually come to see that many of its members are a lot more conservative and reluctant to take action (talk the talk, but don't walk the walk) than I'd thought. It's so hard being one of the very few progressive voices there.

Rough time.


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Big Brother George

Keep the hell out of my job and my personal life, George Bush.

As an editor, I'm on Google constantly to verify tidbits of information my clients' authors put into their manuscripts.

As a self-employed woman trying to provide financial security for her family, I'm on Google day and night in a fruitless search for affordable health care insurance (part 1 and part 2).

As a supporter of gay rights, I'm on Google every single day to keep abreast of news affecting GLBT people everywhere.

As an active Presbyterian and progressive Christian, I'm often on Google to research ways to counteract the cultural insanity perpetrated by conservative religious zealots of every stripe.

As a parent and wife, I'm frequently on Google to research education and medical issues affecting my children and husband.

As a liberal American, I'm on Google constantly to keep abreast of all the ways you seek to curtail my freedom, destroy my country, and foment hatred among nations.

I'm a very open person, George, but I won't stand for your fascist invasions of my privacy. Back the hell off, or sooner than you can rationalize invading Iran, you'll be impeached.


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Angels in the Morning

6:40 am: Time to wake Neil, 11. This takes some doing because he always has trouble getting to sleep in the first place. A gentle shake, shake. Nothing. "Neil! School day. Time to get up," said sotto voce, because he shares a bedroom with Jared, 4. Jared's allowed to sleep until he's ready to get up, which is usually between 8 and 8:30, because he's always home with me unless it's time for preschool, which runs 12 to 2:30 pm Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.

6:50 am: A lot more of the shaking and whispering later, Neil stumbles into the kitchen and sits down. He stuffs his vitamin gummies into his mouth, his eyes still closed. He swallows, and his eyelids drag themselves open long enough for him to look at me with liquid-blue puppy eyes while he says, "Mommy, can I have a snuggle?" He drapes his long, bony body across my lap and tucks his face against my neck, so soft and warm and trusting. I tell him how, of my three children, he was the one at whose birth I felt the physical sensation of the world tilting on its axis, and how I now take that to mean that he will change the world, maybe by inventing something amazing, maybe by being kind and gentle.

7:20 am: Finally having finished his breakfast, Neil stumbles off to dress for school, while I read my e-mail.

7:40 am: His backpack waiting near the steps down to the front door, Neil comes over for one last snuggle, fortification for a day at school. A few minutes later, a clock seems to sound an alarm in his head, and he straightens, says, "Have a good day, Mommy," and heads for the landing to watch out the front-door window for his school bus.

8:15 am: I hear fast footfalls as Jared, after awakening, runs from the bedroom and straight to me at the computer. Neil's bus has come and gone. Jared throws his solid little body at me, tucking his head and his arms into my embrace. He nuzzles me as I kiss the soft, sweet-smelling back of his neck. A few moments later, he lifts his head to kiss my cheek and throw his arms around my neck. Then, all preschooler urgency, Jared breaks off our hug and trots to the living room, picking up the blanket Neil left behind. He throws himself into an overstuffed chair and buries himself in the blanket. "Mommy, can I see cartoons?" I agree, after rubbing his soft baby belly. Weekdays, he gets a little TV while he eats breakfast; he'll play later.

I know that several times during the day, Jared will suddenly stop what he's doing and run up to say something like "Mommy, I love you," and hug and kiss me. And I will track him down several other times to return the favor.

I know that when Neil comes home from school, he'll zoom in for a quick hug and a recital of the days' events before he heads off for the computer/Game Boy/PlayStation time he's allowed before homework.

And I know that I will happily do it all again tomorrow, especially for the chance to hold soft boy bodies and soft boy hearts. I cannot resist hugs from my children. Their skin is so smooth and warm and their enjoyment of affection is so visceral.


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The Joys of Freelancing

Geez! It's days like today that really make me glad to be a freelancer. Here on Long Island, the rain's coming down sideways and the wind's gusting up to 60 miles per hour. I didn't have to get dressed for an audience of officemates and go outside to drive to work, only to be immediately soaked. I'm sitting here at my computer in a T-shirt, casual pants, and clogs, dry and happy.


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