The Peaceful Transition of Power

Hope is both the earliest and the most indispensable virtue inherent in the state of being alive. If life is to be sustained hope must remain, even where confidence is wounded, trust impaired.

Erik H. Erikson

Love letter to Cleveland Ohio

Cleveland, I love you.

I love you from the gritty parking lots of the flats to the boarded up houses standing like bookends in neighborhoods struggling to survive. I love you because even though you are hurting and depressed you pulled yourself up and got to the polls. I love you because given the opportunity you voted early downtown at the Board of Elections after work, day after day after day through the month of October. I love you because on November 4, 2008, you got up at the break of dawn to stand in line in the cold and dark for hours so you could mark that circle and make history. I love you because you got there even though you were sick, or just had a baby, or were so bent from age and years of hard work it took you 15 minutes to walk the 100 yards from your car to the polling place.

I love you because, even before November 4th, you knocked on doors, made phone calls and kept faith, even when you were attacked. I love you because you shared your heart with me over these past 6 weeks when you committed to making sure Ohio went to Obama.

And what a heart you have.

You embraced with kindness the hundreds of volunteers who came to our city.

You stood in line hours and hours to vote, without complaint.

Your children stood with you, hours and hours, without complaint.

You drove you grandmother to the polls, and walked her ever so patiently to the booth so she could vote.

You hadn’t voted in 30 years, and even though you suspected your one vote would not matter, you couldn’t stay home.

You stood outside the polling places cheering and celebrating your friends and neighbors who came to vote.

You were a brand new grandmother driving your daughter and her newborn home from the hospital, and because the hospital discharged her before she could vote, you stopped at the polls and made arrangements for her to vote so that her baby could have a brighter future.

You came even when you couldn’t vote because you wanted to part of history.

And you were – all of you.

This post is dedicated to the 15 year old boy who stood outside the polls on Kinsman, dancing with joy, and who said “I want to vote for Obama – he needs me, but I can’t I’m only 15.”

You stood there in the cold with the Obama volunteers until the polls closed; you inspired them. You inspired me too even though I couldn’t say anything then, you were adorable! Your mother should be very proud.

Remember, everyone told you to keep believing, that you would be able to vote (and work) for Obama’s re-election.

They were right , yes you can, because Cleveland and Ohio did what needed to be done.

Be proud.

* I worked the polls as a neutral volunteer on election day, so I couldn’t say or do anything to show my support for Obama. It was tough, but I honored the directive; I even removed my Obama bumper sticker.  The day went smoothly in all the districts I attended. By the end of the day I regretted my decision to work the non-partisan end, I would have had much more fun as a lawyer for Obama’s campaign.

And they were extraordinary. From the hundreds of people standing in line outside cramped polling places, patiently waiting for the doors to open, to the two young guys who made it in two vote for Obama with barely two minutes left to go.

Any partisan conversations I shared were conducted after the polls closed and my duties as a neutral volunteer were complete.

Just call me Judy Btfsplk

I know I am dating myself with that reference but, I could care less about dating myself, since in fact, I am only dating myself.

Do you see now why my head spins when I think too much? And internets, my head is spinning.

Much like the trinity (“a mystery wrapped in an enigma” or so my catechism told me),* today was a comic-karmic cesspool wrapped up in a nearly perfect day. Thursday Obama announced a Cleveland rally featuring none other than “the Boss.”  I love Obama and I love Bruce Springsteen (who doesn’t?) so I RSVP’d on Obama.com, donated 5 bucks* (maybe please to win a front row seat on election night) and started planning.  Being single (alone again, naturally) and with a surfeit of absent and/or crowd averse friends, I was worried I would have to attend alone. And you all know how people look at single women of a certain age mumbling to themselves in crowds. Not pretty. So I started recruiting.

I convinced my good friends and neighbors the M’s to go; N and P (two of the finest people G-d put on this earth) said they might go.  Son No. 2 wanted to go but had a Leadership Conference this weekend and would be in East Podunk doing rope/rock climbing at a YMCA on Sunday. Saturday it looked like it was a go for everyone except the boy – by Sunday the M’s were still working out the details, N & P (wisely) decided to watch at home and the boy was texting me that he wanted to, oh and by the way, would I drive to East Podunk on Sunday and pick him up so that he could rock to witness the Boss history.

I am a softy, I would drive anywhere for the boy.  But my car (like everything else since I lost my job) suffers from lack of maintenance. I agonized over whether the bubble in the rear tire would be a problem; I worried about spending money for gasoline. But after 70 billion-ty texts and cell calls I decided I would pick him in East Podunk (over an hour away), drive to downtown Cleveland and find a parking place far from the madding crowd so we could rock the vote participate in history.

By 10:30 AM, I was scrubbed and dressed, ready to grab my keys and zip out the door when I reached for my trusty eye glasses -

cue foreboding music – dum dum dum

SNAP – they broke clean in half.

Broken glasses, insurance card, tea and Mounds miniatures to dull the pain

Dammit I thought is this an omen?

No, I have to stop being afraid and worrying – get out of the house and get out of this isolation.

Bravely I grabbed a set of old glasses, logged onto to Map Quest to get directions to East Podunk. I printed everything while I tied my most comfortable pair of shoes.  I turned off the computer and grabbed the stuff from the printer and hit the road.

Sort of.

First, I forgot my cell phone, then I realized I forgot to print the directions to East Podunk. No problem I thought – I’ll get them on my cell. I googled map quest on my cell – WTF – no results. I googled google maps – WTF – had to install an application.  I was multitasking like Kate Plus 8 when I walked out the door. I moved the boy’s car to the street (it’s complicated the garage situation here) and made one last return to the house to get my ipod.

Finally in my car and on the road I was making progress, zipped out 271, got on Rt. 8, I was cruising to the Dixie Chicks not making nice and congratulating myself on getting out of my way and into the world.  So far so good – right?

Umm – no.

After about 10 minutes I noticed a lot more buildings than usual on Rt. 8 – hmm – lots of building – wait wait wait – dammit I am going the wrong direction – I am headed back home. I turned the car around and got myself going in the right direction which included LOTS road construction and 40 MPH speed limits and a 100 billion-ty text and calls from the boy – WHERE ARE YOU!

Finally I made it to the general vicinity of East Podunk in the middle of nowhere Ohio. One hand on the wheel and one hand trying to mapquest, I suspected I had gotten lost.  Spying 2 churches ahead I thought – SALVATION! and pulled into the lot to consult my map.  I couldn’t figure it out, but luckily a car was pulling out of the church lot, I pulled beside it and motioned for the driver to roll down her window.

She did. I asked do you know where Nimsalla Road is?

She replied – I’m deaf.

What are the odds? When I am not flustered I can sign enough to be polite but I was so flabbergasted I just mumbled – I am sorry.

Geez. Hey G-d it’s me Maragaret Judy Btfsplk – are you trying to tell me something.

I forged on, ultimately arriving at the YMCA camp where the boy was waiting. He jumped in the car, allowing me only the briefest of bathroom breaks**, and we were off to Cleveland. We arrived in Cleveland about 1:15 PM and parked a good distance from the Event. We hoofed it fast and got to East 9th and ran smack dab into the line for the event. We got in line and waited

the line

and waited

more line

and waited

We made it!

until about 2 hours later when we inched our way forward as the last lucky few to make it into the actual event. We were way way way in the back, but we were happy.

the back of the rally

After about another 45 minutes the Boss came on and he was awesome. I couldn’t see him but I could hear him.  About 30 minutes after that, Obama came on and he was even more awesome.  I couldn’t see Obama either; not only was he far away, but they had HUGE BRIGHT rapture lighting blinding my field of vision.

rapture lighting Bruce Springsteen

It was impossible to even look in the direction of the stage without being blinded.

But it was great and everyone was having a good time until Obama mentioned Dick Cheney’s name. Dick must have some heavy dark mumbo jumbo because right then it started to rain and it didn’t stop. Don’t get me wrong – it was still awesome – only now it was awesome and wet.

Rally over, aching from standing in one place on cold concrete, headache from the rapture lights, we headed back the seeming gazillion miles back to our car. Needing a drink and a bathroom by this point, we were frustrated at every block by our city’s non-existent nightlife. Finally just when I was about to pass out we spied a Starbucks.

AHHHHhhhhhh – we zipped in and while the boy got us coffee I stood in line for the one, now very popular, ladies room. Soaking wet, worn out and looking pretty ghastly, I was glad I had not run into anyone I knew when, dum dum dum, the bathroom door opened and there she stood.

A perfectly put together HR person who didn’t hire me for one of the jobs I applied for – dammit.

Maybe she won’t recognize me.

Then she looks me in the eye and says Clare?

Ahh no I said – Judy Btfsplk.

No time to chat, la la la, we got the heck out of there.

By now I am starving (no lunch, no supper, no coffee, no energy) and I still have to get the boy fed and back to his leadership conference, which I did cuz I am awesome.

Finally, 8 long hours after I left, I  returned home with visions of Advil and my jammies dancing in my head – but wait – the boy’s car is in the street and I have to put it back in the driveway. I can barely walk I am so cold and sore, but I hobble out the street, open the passenger door (the only one that unlocks on his jalopy) and climb my old tired ass into the driver’s seat.  I start the car and back up to pull into my driveway. Only, in the inky blackness of the night and unaccustomed to his car, I put it into reverse and

CRASH – right into my neighbor’s car.

Listen guys, I am tired, I am broke, I haven’t been able to find a job in spite of mad crazy wonderful skills and sterling references. The last thing I need is another day like today.

Send light, send prayers, send good thoughts.  I am ready for CHANGE.

* I know I am being irreverent – don’t hassle me – at least I am not talking about my ideas for Imprimatur panties or a Pop up Pope book.

** the East Podunk YMCA has the loudest most powerful hand dryer on the planet except maybe at the KFC in Roanoke Rapids, NC

Don’t Vote!

Did you know that 537 people decided the 2000 election.

Listen to Harrison Ford and friends.

Pass it on.

I dedicate my vote to a man named Charles

Son No. 2 and I voted early today – I am volunteering for Protect the Vote on election day and he is working the polls.  The experience of driving down to the Board of Elections was exciting, we talked issues and candidates, and about the feeling of hope.

His first presidential vote

An early vote for Obama

After I got home @QueenofSpain twittered a link to this video – I think Charles summarized quite beautifully why I am so proud to be a part of this historic election.

I’m the one you want*

Suddenly sexy Ohio voting block seeks candidate for long walks on the beach, cuddling and universal health care.

I’ve sensed something in the air the past few weeks.  Men, powerful men, who haven’t given me the time of day since my first hot flash, suddenly can’t get enough of me.  Those beltway elites who only last year looked down on my mid-western got it at Wal-Mart style with a milkshake on the side find me irresistible.

Being from Ohio is suddenly sexy.  I feel somewhat shy when he, you know him, the one who left me after I put on a few pounds, gave me the hot once over from the top of my frosted bob, down past my “Big Dog Mom” sweatshirt, way past my elastic waist jeans all the way down to my easy spirit walking shoes (so comfortable!). Honestly “guys and gals” it’s enough to make a older woman blush.

I don’t want to give in but somehow when he looks at me with those watery eyes and crooked smile I get all misty – I think I see a hero or something, but maybe I just forgot to put on my glasses. Just when I think he has forgotten me or written me off he is back again with more sweet talk and promises. I have to tell you I am so worn out what with dealing with my mom, while looking for work and being a single mom, I find it hard to resist.

Before, I was kind of blaming him for my problems finding work, and you know, his friends said some pretty mean things like my problems were all in my head!  I felt kind of bad. Later he told me he wasn’t hangin’ with those guys anymore.  He said he was always fighting for me even when I couldn’t tell.  He just had to keep on the down low.

I told him I just picked up some temp work that probably would last a couple weeks. I asked him to call me after November 5th.  He kinda got quiet.

I told him I would move to Arizona with him – or even to some other place.  I think he is pretty well off.  He wouldn’t give me a commitment, just told me to stay faithful no matter what.

He mentioned one other guy who “I think” is kind of interested in me too, but I have to tell you, even though John (opps I shouldn’t have spilled that) is dreamy in a wrinkly white kind of way, the other one, you know “that one” is looking kind of attractive.

Trouble is, there is no flirting with him.  He makes it clear he respects me, he might even help me out, but I get the feeling he doesn’t think of me as a simple minded damsel in distress looking for a savior.  He wants me to think and act, and even take action, to move on and rebuild my life.

Sigh.

Five Husbands Madonna Homage

*I haven’t been this desirable since 1985

No Day Like Today!

Inspired by @QueenofSpain’s post Looking for Light, Domestic Psychology started the meme with 26 days to go. I jumped on the meme-wagon at 26 and, inspired by filmmaker Lee Stranahan, I am counting down the days to Obama’s victory.

I am one of many

From Lee Stranahan of 30 Days 30 Reasons

Follow Lee on Twitter @Stranahan and subscribe to his channel on YouTube

It is more important than ever to keep it going … you know Jew I am talking to!

Please

Anger and Abuse (Corrected)

We have all heard the stories – here is a short video with clips of those who have tasted his rage.

And his supporters proving that the acorn doesn’t fall far from the tree.  Irony or whatever intended.  What is is with people – can they not disagree without name calling?

Sarah Palin, torches and pitchforks

Worse, Palin’s routine attacks on the media have begun to spill into ugliness. In Clearwater, arriving reporters were greeted with shouts and taunts by the crowd of about 3,000. Palin then went on to blame Katie Couric’s questions for her “less-than-successful interview with kinda mainstream media.” At that, Palin supporters turned on reporters in the press area, waving thunder sticks and shouting abuse. Others hurled obscenities at a camera crew. One Palin supporter shouted a racial epithet at an African American sound man for a network and told him, “Sit down, boy.”

Unleashed, Palin Makes a Pit Bull Look Tame

American Jews for Obama

I believe Barack Obama has a Jewish soul.