Politics and Lies

I really try not to get too involved in politics. I find it depressing. However, as a member of the despised media (everyone hates us), I'm getting more involved than I ever wanted to be. And I'm coming to a conclusion here: none of these turkeys is worth spitting on. It doesn't matter what side of the fence they sit on. I don't care. Right, left; conservative, liberal. Doesn't matter. They all say nasty things about each other, and neither side can come up with any solutions worth two cents. Same old answers, just different mouths spouting the "solutions."

We're getting all kinds of garbage-worthy, cringe-inducing e-mails about the elections. The Republicans stole the 2000 election and Barack Obama is a radical Muslim terrorist. Let me bang my head against the wall. Here's the deal, folks: the Republicans didn't steal a doggone thing and Obama is not a terrorist. Both are lies, pure and simple.

You know, Florida screwed up in 2000. If Alabama had the money to install and use optical scanners, Florida sure to heck did. Optical scanners tend to eliminate a lot of problems. It was 2000 and Florida was using a balloting procedure obsolete in 1980. They screwed up. Not the GOP, not Bush, not Jeb Bush-- the state of Florida. O.K.? It was their habit of keeping their collective heads stuck in their pristine sands that created this problem. Only a total idiot wouldn't have foreseen the potential landmine inherent in the "butterfly ballot" system. The state of Florida messed up. That's life and you deal with it. A mistake is one thing: at least all the people who voted in Florida were actually ALIVE at the time. Unlike the mess in Illinois in 1960 during the Kennedy election. Now there was some serious, intentional voter fraud for you.

Barack Obama is neither a Muslim nor a terrorist. Quit reading those STUPID e-mails that have all this "proof." It's crap. If you believe it, you've got rocks in your head. And here's a reminder: it isn't against the law to be a Muslim, and there's nothing in the Constitution that says a Muslim cannot be president of this country. So get that clearly in mind.

If you want to disagree with Obama, do it on the issues. Talk about his voting record in the Senate, his economic plans if elected, his stance on the war in Iraq. These are real issues. Trying to crucify the man on his supposed religious beliefs and his "radical" friends is stupid. I don't remember people criticizing the Clintons when Bill was elected because they were all cozy-wozy with all those Hollywood types. Not until later, that is. And some of those Hollywood crazies are way, way more radical and a lot scarier than anyone Obama has called a friend.

I'm afraid the trouble is largely that so few people go into politics because they are interested in public service. No one can put "statesman" on a resume' any longer. Statesmen, by and large, no longer exist. Most people seem to go into politics because of the potential for personal gain. They don't seem to be too interested in serving -- just in being a great high mucky-muck. There are a few exceptions. There are members of Congress, whose names will not be long remembered, who served because they actually wanted to make a contribution. God bless those men and women.

I'll hold my nose and vote. I usually do. But I maintain most of the ones running still aren't worth spitting on. And I'm sick of watching them spit on each other.

Communion Matters

Communion. The Lord's Supper. The Eucharist. Called by many names, this Christian ritual is found in nearly every Christian denomination. It commemorates the last supper Jesus Christ had with his disciples and is usually considered the holiest time of any service where it occurs. Communion is a time of reflection, of examination of conscience, of coming into the intimate presence of God.

Communion also reminds Christians of what price was paid for our salvation. We remember Christ died that we might have eternal life, and know forgiveness from our sins. "He died once, for all, that we might have life and have it more abundantly." The true nature of Communion was brought home to me a couple of weeks ago when we celebrated the service at church.

In our church, we go to the altar rail and kneel (those who can) and receive the elements. The minister dismisses us with a blessing and we resume our seats as the next group goes up. One of the ladies in our church is suffering from Alzheimer's Disease. She is still mobile and comes to church most Sundays, although she rarely recognizes anyone any longer. Her devoted husband is her primary caregiver and is always with her.

During the service, I saw the couple standing at the altar rail and my eyes filled with tears. The husband took his bread from the plate, ate it, and then took a piece for his wife, and so gently, fed it to her. He did the same thing with the wine. He took his cup, drank, and then held another cup to his wife's lips so she could drink.

He did not merely do his wife a kindness, in helping her participate in a familiar ritual. No, he helped his wife participate in the salvation that also includes those who no longer remember what Communion is all about. He loved her enough to help her make her slow, unsteady way to the altar, to receive the gift of Communion, to help her participate in an act of grace. This grace is still extended to her, even if she no longer realizes it.

That small scene encompassed so much of what Christianity is all about: it's universal accessibility, it's emphasis on loving one another, on sharing each other's burdens, on the availability of grace to all who are willing to receive it. I have to believe the Lord may have dropped a tear as He looked on this act, and the sweet love that enabled it.

In our hurry of the everyday, we may overlook many small gifts of grace. I'm so thankful the Lord allowed me to witness such a grace-filled moment as this. I was blessed by it.

Honor and character

In Alabama, football is something of a religion. There are great traditions at both major universities. Personally, I root for the Alabama Crimson Tide. Of course, we had Bear Bryant at the University for all those years, bringing home national and conference titles. It's a grand football tradition. However, as storied as Alabama football may be, it suffers from many of the ills plaguing big-time NCAA. In recent years, Alabama has been placed under NCAA sanctions, has lost scholarships and bowl privileges. They have had problems this season with players engaging in less than ethical, and bordering on illegal, conduct. Coach Nick Saban has been faced with a group of young thugs on his team. But this situation is endemic as Division I schools find themselves the farm teams for the NFL. And the character doesn't get much better in the NFL, either. Just read the headlines about player conduct.



But the news is not all grim where college football is concerned. Although I didn't attend a service academy, I usually manage to catch some of the Army-Navy game every year. Daddy was in the Army and always pulled for the Cadets. I like to see Army win, but it's such a joy to see those young men play the game. You don't see calls for unsportsmanlike conduct or hear trash-talking against the other team. People don't get service academy appointments for being good players. They get the appointments for having sterling character. And it shows in every game.



Army, unfortunately, received a sound thrashing from the Midshipmen. However, there were no fights after the game, either on the field or in the stands. Players from both teams congratulated each other like gentlemen. The Navy MVP didn't toot his own horn, even though he ran a kickoff back for 98 yards for a touchdown. He talked about the help he got from his teammates, and how hard Army played.



At the end of the Army-Navy game, the bands play each team's alma mater. As each team's alma mater played, both teams stood at attention, as did the spectators. The heartwarming highlight ws when MVP Reggie Campell stood on the drum major's stand and conducted the Navy band in their alma mater.



Annapolis and West Point are not farm teams for the NFL. As one of the announcers said, there were no signing bonuses to be considered, no endorsements, no big contracts. These young men were playing for the honor of their respective academies. And every one of them who graduates will be commissioned as an officer in the armed forces -- during wartime. Some may go on to the pros after their service commitment, but these days, that's not likely. More likely, these young men will go on to success in their chosen careers, military or civilian.



As I watched the teams stand at attention for their alma maters, congratulate their opponents and be gracious in victory and in loss, I felt tremendous pride for those players, who will be defending their country in just a short while. They are choosing to commit four years to the service of their country, in war and peace.



I also felt disgust. I was seriously annoyed that my football team, the Alabama Crimson Tide, cannot muster the quality of character as seen at these service academies. Not that there aren't players with character at Alabama. But there does seem to be a preponderance of little hoodlums in the lineup.



It would be nice if Nick Saban got the support from the university and the alumni association, and could bench the thugs, he might have more success as far as discipline goes. But he might not win so many football games, and that's just not an option.


When Alabama and other Division I schools start taking some lessons from our service academies, NCAA football will regain some of its polish and prestige. Right now, all the honor is on Army and Navy.

Just a Snack

Peanut butter on cheese crackers. It's a favorite snack that dates back to my childhood.

A pack of crackers was about the cheapest snack going when I was little, and when we went somewhere, it was usually on the cheap. We weren't a wealthy family. Then, we could get a can of Coke for 50 cents, and a pack of crackers for a quarter. So, when my sister and I went with Daddy somewhere, we could all get a Coke and a pack of crackers for about $2.50. And usually, someone would get peanut butter on cheese crackers. We all tended to get something different, so we could trade a cracker for 2 chips, for instance, or a cheese on wheat cracker for a peanut butter one.

Going somewhere with Daddy was always something of an adventure. We could be certain we wouldn't return the same way we got there. "Going somewhere" in the summer might mean going to the Bank of Lexington when Daddy deposited his check, or it might mean a trip to Athens, and consequently, to my aunt's house, also a good thing. On some rare occasions, it meant hitting salvage yards in the area to look for a part for a car.

In the fall or spring, particularly, "going somewhere" often meant a trip to Blount County. I've been awakened on a beautiful spring or fall weekend morning with the words, "Come on girls. It's a good day to go to Blount County." My paternal grandmother grew up here, and several of her sisters still lived in the Oneonta area. Daddy loved his aunts and always felt it a pleasant duty to go see them a few times a year. Depending on who was home, we would go see Aunt Annie, Aunt Matie, Aunt Lulamae, Aunt Allie and Aunt Willie. Going around Christmas almost always meant an offer of German Chocolate cake from Aunt Lulamae. Hers were delicious.

I think I need to mention a little more about Aunt Willie, here. She had many nieces and nephews, but Daddy was one of her favorites, for sure. Why? Well, she was very close to my grandmother, and saw a lot of Daddy his whole life. Also, he was faithful about coming to see her. That means a lot to older people. Who comes to see them? Who remembers them? Daddy always remembered Aunt Willie. She remembered him, too. You never got out of Aunt Willie's house without having a snack. She wouldn't hear of anyone leaving her home without eating. Consequently, she always kept a package of diabetic cookies in her kitchen, just for Daddy when he came by. She knew he had diabetes and wanted to be able to offer him something he could enjoy.

Years later, my sister and I were in Oneonta for a cousin's wedding. We were worn out, and didn't want to make the drive back home that night. The hotel was full (of wedding guests) and a call to another cousin gave us the idea of calling Aunt Willie and asking her if we might stay the night with her. "She will be thrilled," Jeanette said. She was, indeed. She also had been to the wedding, and was tickled to have someone to talk it over with. She was overjoyed to share her hospitality.

I will never forget her coming into my bedroom that night, checking on me, and on my sister, as well, as though we were her own children. She also cooked breakfast for us the next morning. All this, and well past 80 years old. But nothing could have pleased her more. I told Jeanette later I felt we might have been imposing, but she said, "No, no. Willie talked about your visit for weeks. She was just tickled you thought to call her." It was such a small thing, but I am grateful it brought her such joy.

After my sister went to college, Daddy and I drove to Madison to school every morning, and to Florence on weekends. Peanut butter on cheese crackers figured in many of these trips. We talked of the news of the day, of history, of books we had both read, of the Lord, of living the Christian faith daily. Those days and hours in the car with Daddy are beautiful and blessed in my mind.

I grab that humble package now and always think of Daddy.

Knowing too much

Sometimes, the miracles of modern medicine means your doc can know a little too much about you. I like my doctor and had to do the yearly physical thing. Her verdict? "Well, we're to the point that, if you want to stay on birth control, I'll have to give you something for your blood pressure." See, I've been flirting with hypertension for years. Yeah, a risk of being fat. Tell me something I didn't know. Also my overly stressful job. See some older posts for a picture.

Soooo, I'll get my scrip filled, take it dutifully and look at diets for high blood pressure. Let's see. For optimal health, I need to avoid: alcohol, chocolate, sugar, salt, butter, meat, fat, pasta, breads, ad infinitum. Which leaves me with a lettuce and broccoli salad with grapes and cashews on top. Yay. Of course, then there's the studies that suggest extremely low-fat diets are not healthy, either, when controlling hypertension.

I have come to the conclusion no one knows what we really should eat and should avoid. Years ago, if you had heart disease, you were supposed to avoid eggs like the plague, because of the cholesterol content. Nowadays, eggs aren't off limits, because they contain "good" cholesterol. Red wine ostensibly can help heart patients, but docs say don't start drinking it if you don't already drink. Huh?

My main goal right now is to get the junk food out of my diet. In years past, I didn't eat that much. However, the past couple of years, I've eaten way more of it than I ever have, probably. I'll try to eat more fruits and vegetables. I don't salt my food that much, so that's not such a problem, but I'll have to watch the sodium content of any soup or other food I buy that I don't make. I've resolved I'll exercise more. I got out of that habit when Mama broke her hip and running back and forth to the nursing home all the time left me too worn out to do much of anything.

All my life, all I've ever wanted is to be slender. And all my life, all I've ever been is fat. It's very difficult to accept yourself and love yourself when the world around you vilifies you for being what you are. I've dieted, exercised until I could barely crawl up the stairs, gone to support groups-- you name it. And still I'm fat. People see the obese as lazy, weak-willed, stupid, ignorant, neglectful--and in some cases, that's true. It's also true of slender people. I've spent my entire life in self-loathing because I don't look like the fashion magazines. I despise myself and the way I look. I avoid mirrors and never allow my picture to be taken, if I can help it. I wish the greatest compliment in the world someone could pay me was NOT, "Wow! You look like you've lost weight!" I live and die by my weight, which is why I rarely step on a scale. I can't stand it. It's just too painful to work out, eat right and do everything I can, and see that stupid needle on the scale hardly budge.

And when people think they are doing me some kind of favor by pointing out my obesity, or by letting me know Weight Watchers is available, well thanks. I know I'm fat and I know a lot of people have a lot of success in Weight Watchers. And if I made about $10 more an hour, maybe I could afford to go. As it is, I'm pretty much on my own in this venture. I've considered lap-band surgery, but I don't know.

If anyone reads this, say a prayer for me. I need it. I still believe in God's good purpose in my life. I just need a little miracle, right now.

When evil comes to town, love must respond...

I've seen ignorance up close. I've seen anger, grief and addiction. I don't know that I'd ever seen pure evil any closer than I did yesterday. I was part of a peaceful protest against a KKK rally in the town were I went to college.

Some may think, "She's from the South. A KKK rally is a big deal?" Well, yes. Things have changed in the past 40 years. Klan activity is not nearly as prevalent as it used to be, thank the Lord. There have been some rallies in Pulaski, Tenn., but nothing around here. Until, citing their right to free speech, a KKK group from Indiana got a permit from Athens. Their permit was granted--under duress-- and they came to town.

It's an interesting side note they wanted to hold their "anti-immigration rally" at the same time police were needed a mile away to control traffic for bikers coming through for the annual Trail of Tears ride. That, fortunately, was denied them. They stood on the steps of City Hall and yowled for an hour or so. Seeing this on television, reading it in the newspaper is a whole different experience than seeing it in a town I have visited all my life. Even on television, there's a disconnect. In person, it becomes very real and immediate.

My part was to participate in the Silent Witness of Love counter-protest. This was put together by the rector of the Episcopal Church in Athens. Rev. Lucas is a trained nonviolent protester and decided, along with several other churches, that Christians could not, must not, ignore this. It was next door--20 yards from the front door of the Methodist Church!

Our methods, however, were a little different. We held up yellow signs with "Love" written on them. We remained absolutely silent during the rally. We did not engage Klan members or supporters. We just stood across the street and held up our signs.

My "rubber meets the road" moment, and that of my husband, came when we were standing with about 20 other protesters on the front lawn of the Methodist Church. We had our signs and were just waiting for the rally to begin. Then, coming across the street, walked about eight Klansmen--one in a red robe and pointed hood. When they stepped on the sidewalk on church property, we all held up our signs. We did not say a word as they walked through our group. The senior pastor at the church civilly informed them they were on private property. Their excuse was they thought the church was City Hall, not the unimpressive brick building next door.

I know that isn't why they did what they did. They were hoping to engage us. They wanted to start something at that moment. They saw our signs and yelled, "We love, too! We love our white children!" None of us said a word, but I know we were all apprehensive. We certainly weren't armed, but it's a safe bet they were. Fortunately, two police officers arrived about then to escort them to city hall.

There were 40 or so of us who anchored the street corners at the beginning. We felt a little exposed, but stood our ground. The KKK spewed their hate and venom to a curious, if not supportive, crowd and they had the momentum on their side, it seemed.

Then, the cavalry arrived. The Episcopal rector led the crowd from his church, a little farther away. He had a large sign and at least 100 people marched silently behind him, carrying their signs. My heart lifted. As the crowd saw them, they broke out into applause. Those of us on the sidewalk fell in behind them and ringed the crowd with our signs, still silent. Television cameras were everywhere, and they caught the solid mass of people, holding up signs saying "Love." It was quite a sight. We outnumbered Klan members at least 3 to 1, if not more.

We didn't speak or respond to their hatred. We just met them with a solid wall of love. We fell back to the Methodist Church, at the police's request, but still were very visible to the KKK.

It was a victory for the Lord, because we met in His name, and in the right way, with the right motives. We upheld our commitment to complete nonviolence.

But those KKK members still walk in such grim darkness. They are so consumed with hate. God's grace is available to them, too. If you read this, pray for them. Pray with me that the love of God will displace the hate in their hearts, and His Spirit will overcome their darkness. I pray God's grace will intervene in their lives.

One Angry Woman

The Lord is teaching me a lesson in forgiveness this week. It's a lesson I struggle with frequently, and I'm learning it all over again.
In the grand scheme of things, what my boss did to me last week is small potatoes. It doesn't even rank with those who have suffered violence in their families or who are facing the death of a loved one from a terminal disease. I really try to look at it in those terms.

Of course, being tortured by constant pin pricks isn't pleasant, either.

I've talked about my boss before in my blog. He's an expert at making people miserable, and that's really sad. Trouble is, he just seems oblivious to it. Well, sometimes. Sometimes, his enjoyment is apparent. I'm not sure which is worse, honestly.

So a few weeks ago, our controller went around asking people if they wanted new chairs. This is a pretty big deal, considering the last wholesale purchase of chairs for the newsroom was in about 1994 or so. Seriously. A few people have had new chairs since then, but the majority have been sitting in the 1994 models.
We have two great office chairs at home. I love them. They also cost $20 less than the ones the controller was looking at. So, I asked the controller if I could have one like that. He said yes and ordered one for me. Early one morning before I got to work, the maintenance guy was putting my new chair together for me. My boss comes out of his office, sees this and says, "What the $%^& are you doing?"
When the guy told my boss he was putting together my new chair, bossman said, "Well stop. Send it back. I want all the chairs in this newsroom to MATCH!" Match. We have 40 people in that newsroom, of all shapes and sizes. "Match," he says.

Soooo, the new chairs arrive. The chairs, incidentally, meant for guys who are at least four inches taller than I. This means their backs are oriented differently. Well, the lumbar support in those chairs hits right around my shoulder blades. There's about a four-inch gap between my lumbar and the back of the chair, even when I'm sitting perfectly straight in them. My back was aching so after a couple of hours in the new chair, I said, "Forget this. I'm going back to my old chair." So I did. Bossman was distinctly not happy that I had so spurned the company's generosity in providing me with a chair I should have obviously been tickled with. It bears mentioning his chair doesn't match anyone else's, either in style or color. The office store guys brought in about 20 for him to try before he was satisfied. Naturally, the rest of us didn't have that opportunity.

But I had another chance to be a total ingrate that morning when I told bossman I wasn't interested in his offer of the company footing the bill for me to "participate in a fitness program" and have the paper cover my "progress." Yep, that's me: "The Biggest Loser." He said, "But you could be a STAR!" Um, yeah. Those who know me understand that would be the seventh circle of hell for me.
Yes, I'm a big girl. And it just drives my fat-o-phobic boss crazy. I want to be healthy, and I'm working toward that goal. But bossman can't stand it that I'm not slim and trim like some of the other girls in the newsroom. See, he's just such a control freak, he can't swallow the concept that he can't dictate what our bodies look like. It's a constant irritant to him.
He and his equally fat-o-phobic editor wife consider obesity to be the ultimate in mortal sins. Of course, many people do. And it's wrong. Even if obesity is unhealthy, holding every woman to some unrealistic ideal of feminine beauty, and effectively taking away her civil rights because of it is evil. People come in all shapes and sizes, and all of his so-called liberal Democrat "open-mindedness" doesn't include accepting someone who doesn't meet the insurance charts' ideals. His opinions on weight are borne out in his editorials and no doubt affect others' perceptions.

So, I'm praying for daylight and for the grace to forgive. It ain't easy. But I keep on. With the Lord's help, I'll get through it.

"At the end of the tunnel, you can see the light. Well, if that ain't a train, you made it through the night." Well, Jeff or Ibby, whichever one of you wrote that lyric, you had it pegged.

I refuse to live in quiet desperation.