Monthly Archives: March 2018

Nostalgia Notes

 

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I got nostalgic yesterday for all the previous yesterdays when I could sleep through the night without worrying about was happening on the East Coast. I got nostalgic for the days when I didn’t need to know the names of people like Paul Ryan and Mitch McConnell, Chuck Schumer and Nancy Pelosi. I got nostalgic for the days when I believed our government was led by men and women with integrity and knowledge of national and international affairs. I wanted to go back to the days when I thought no President would tell a lie.

Then I got just plain nostalgic for that age of innocence when I was growing up. It turned into a Remember When morning and thinking of things in the past.

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Let’s start with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on white bread. Really, they were so delicious and went down so smoothly with a glass of milk. And we thought we were eating something healthy: the peanut butter was protein and the jelly was fruit. I just realized something weird — no one had a peanut allergy back then.

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Sadly, another thing that is probably in my past is prime rib. It used to be my favorite — my mother made a big one every Sunday night and we fought over the crispy fat. Now when I look at this photo, I feel a bit nauseous. Darn! And it tasted so good.

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Embroidery is a craft of the past. Probably a hundred years ago, my grandmother embroidered these napkins made out of flour sacking. My grandparents were immigrants who had nothing when they came to the United States in 1900. But my grandmother had skill and perseverance so she made things beautiful. I’ll never throw them away.

She is still my inspiration. She was the most amazing baker the world has ever seen. She never measured — well, she did use a half of an egg shell occasionally. This photo really captures her spirit.

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Spring is such a hopeful season filled with abundant energy. Winter fights with Spring, creating mischievous weather that has us layering on and off. The other day, as I put my jacket back on after just removing it five minutes before, I heard the distant drone of a propeller in the sky. When I looked up at the single engine plane, it took me back to my childhood days in Seattle. More feelings of nostalgia.

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Then there is the nostalgia for what you once could have worn, but no longer can. Like this gorgeous shoe — boot. I’m drooling as I look at it but I know there’d be no reason for me to even try it on. Too high of a heel for me and it would look ridiculous at the bottom of my babyboomer legs.

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Above is this tee shirt, which is more appropriate for me at my age. I remember getting a plaque with Getting Old is not for Sissies for my mom and dad on their 50th anniversary. Oh, we kids thought it was so funny…and we thought it would never happen to us.

Guess who isn’t laughing now.

 

 

 

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Trump Tramples Women

via WHAT’S THE NEXT DOGWHISTLE?

WHAT’S THE NEXT DOGWHISTLE?

PressforProgress-India

I am so angry at the remarks Trump made in Pennsylvania about women. It’s been a slow burn in the pit of my stomach, but it could be ignited into a full flame at a moment’s notice.

His disrespect for women was on full display in front of this Pennsylvania crowd. Disrespect? What am I saying? Why I am so polite? He disdains women, despises the idea that they have a place in government. Deplores that women have a voice at all.

“We have to defeat Nancy Pelosi and Maxine Waters, a very low I.Q. individual,” Trump said. “You ever see her? You ever seen her? You ever see her? ‘We will impeach him! We will impeach the president!’ But he hasn’t done anything wrong. It doesn’t matter, we will impeach him! She’s a low I.Q. individual. You can’t help it. She really is.”

“But you have Maxine Waters, and you have plenty of others, and I mean Nancy Pelosi, you can’t have that,” Trump said.

In going after the Democratic leadership, he doesn’t go after Chuck Schumer He goes after Nancy Pelosi — a woman. “I mean Nancy Pelosi, you can’t have that?” Why can’t you have that? What does he mean?

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I didn’t like that but it’s what he said about Maxine Waters that has my blood boiling. You know it was racist. Don’t try to deny it. He thought he could get in a racist dig about African Americans, and win over his audience. “She’s a low I.Q. individual.” Wink, wink! “We’ll put them down because we know we whites are so much smarter!” Blech!

Waters, herself, says his remarks are racist. He’d attacked her similarly at the annual Gridiron Club annual dinner. “I certainly expected him to come out with some racist remarks about me. So he did exactly what I expected him do…”, she told MSNBC’s Joy Reid.

How dare he!!! I’m so appalled he thinks he can make derogatory remarks heard around the world about my fellow Americans and get away with it. Don’t forget he got his dig in at Gary Cohn, using the dogwhistle “Globalist”, the alt right term for a Jew.

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Meanwhile, the Pennsylvania speech that included anti-women sentiment was given two days after International Women’s Day, in the middle of Women’s History Month. I don’t think it was by accident. Trump may seem to shoot from the hip (NRA not withstanding) but I believe his statements are planned and thought out.

We can see that with the firing of Rex Tillerson via Twitter. Tillerson, who has a lot to answer for in his dismantling and mismanagement of the State Department, nevertheless has the right to be treated with respect by the president he served. The Secretary of State handled himself with dignity today when he made his remarks, although he was vibrating with emotion. Trump, in the same Pennsylvania speech, mocked a dignified President who would act with decorum.

That’s Trump’s mindset about the Presidency. I shudder to conjure up his thoughts about our democracy.flag-2578873__340

But, Not Seriously: The Good Ol’ Days

 

The other day I was taking a walk with a couple of friends and the subject of showers came up.

“I take a three minute shower,” I said.

“Why?” my fastidious friend asked. She seemed shocked.

“For two reasons. One, to conserve water, and also, I never have time to linger. It’s soap up, rinse off and get out,” I said.

“ I’m not being very environmentally responsible. I love to feel the hot water beat down on me. It feels so good. And I love to linger when I take a bath,” she said, looking guilty.

A bath, I thought. Now, there’s a foreign concept. I hadn’t had time for a bath in twenty years. You think when you get older, you’ll have more time for things like that. But time just keeps moving faster and it’s hard to fit in everything you need to do.

“What kind of soap do you use?” our other friend asked.

“I like natural shower gels,” I said.

They both did too.

“My husband still likes Dial Soap,” I said.

Their eyebrows raised so high I could see them above their sunglasses. “Dial soap? In a bar?” one asked.

“Yep, the old fashioned way,” I said.

“When I was a kid, we’d use the bar until you could see the lines at the bottom,” one of my buddies said.

“We used it down until it was a sliver,” I said. “We sorta still do.”

That was the moment when I realized that my parents’ Depression Mentality had truly sunk into my consciousness. We’d always laughed at them for their frugality, but the apple doesn’t fall far from the bushel. I’m just like my dad as I walk around turning off lights and television sets left on by the other denizens of my domicile. I squeeze out the very last bit of toothpaste from my tube. And wouldn’t dream of throwing away a half-filled container of anything.

But that isn’t all. I’m blushing as I admit this but I use my Kuerig cup twice. And it isn’t only because of landfill guilt. The second cup isn’t really that bad if you only make a half cup.

“When we were kids, we only took baths,” one of my friends said as we turned the corner towards home.

“Us, too,” the other said. “And we often shared the bath water.”

“Same!” I said. “And we only had one bathroom for the five of us. When we got to be teenagers, we didn’t share, but you’d have to wait your turn outside the door.”

My friends said their growing up had been equally fraught with bathroom depravation.

 

“My sister used to take the longest baths in the history of the world,” one said. “God forbid if you needed to pee while she was in there.”

“My brother was in ROTC in college. He used to practice his Marching Orders while he was in the tub,” I said. “Hupt Two, Three. Hupt Two Three.”

“My kids shared a bathroom when they were growing up,” one of the women said.

“So did mine,” I said. “We never thought about each bedroom having its own bathroom until we moved to California.”

We all tried to picture our grandkids sharing one bathroom with their whole family. We couldn’t do it.

As I walked back to my house I thought about how refreshing our conversation had been. For over a year, we’d only talked about our fears for the world and ways we could help preserve the democracy we’d grown up with. Or about aging babyboomer problems we or our friends were having. For an hour, we hadn’t uttered one serious word.