"That Wasn't Nice!"

My girls are now seven. They spend their days at school writing tall tales and memorizing multiplication tables. They are learning to navigate the precarious social structure of a second grade classroom: what it means to be a good friend, the value in honesty and the importance of standing up for a classmate who is not being treated fairly. They are learning to be good citizens in their own world which will someday translate to a much bigger place, because being kind and fair is important when you are seven, and when you are 53.

Four years ago John McCain, then the Republican candidate for president, was confronted by woman at a campaign stop in Minnesota who stood up and called Barack Obama an "Arab". John McCain, who had been boo'd several times for trying to quiet the rowdy crowd, took the microphone from her, "I have to tell you, Senator Obama is a decent person and a person you don't have to be scared of as president of the United States. He's a decent family man, a citizen, that I just happen to have disagreements with on fundamental issues and that's what this campaign's all about. He's not an Arab".

Politically John McCain and I don't see eye to eye, but I believe in his character and I respect his integrity.

Rick Santorum, selected yesterday by the people of Minnesota, Colorado and Missouri to be the Republican nominee in November, is not burdened by that same sense of fairness. At a campaign stop in Florida, Santorum did not feel it was his responsibility to correct the woman who told him that Obama was not "legally" the president, that he "totally ignores" the Constitution and that he is an "avowed Muslim". Rather than correct any of these statements, Santorum assured her that he was "doing his best to get him out of the government right now".

Yesterday at school a friend of the girls was called a name by a classmate. He quietly put his head down on his desk and said nothing. Mary looked directly at the name caller and said, "that wasn't nice!".

Mary gets my vote.

POTUS MIA

For two days it was tense, living with the unknown always scary, the President had gone missing. He was last remembered as a happy young President, riding in the mini shopping cart at Trader Joe's, and had not been seen since. On Sunday I called Trader Joe's, "my daughter seems to have lost her doll, yes, small, dressed in a red snow suit with a hood, bushy black hair, answers to the name Barack Obama", no they had not seen him. We considered calling the Secret Service, Mary considered going to bed for days, lost as she was without her President. Kate offered Senator Durbin but no, once a girl loves a President, well there is just nothing else for her.

We scoured the apartment, Eleanor Roosevelt, who sometimes enjoys a tug and a chew on the President, was questioned. Her hiding places revealed, not a President to be discovered . We checked the dry cleaning, nothing. He was not in the laundry, in the oven, on the front porch, the back porch, in the car, or in the oval office, President Obama was nowhere to be found.

Sunday night I moved the sleeping bags, just to check, once more, the pile of blankets accumulating behind Mary's bed. Out tumbled Barack Obama, tired and hungry to be certain, but found. The search team was called down, Jack Bauer taken off the case, and civility restored to our home. Rest easy Mr. President, it's good to have you back.

History Lesson

Because their banker father was home last Monday, Mary and Kate knew it was a holiday. We're honoring the life of Martin Luther King, Jr. was not enough, who was he, what did he do, was he a President?


Mary and Kate don't know Cinderella, they don't know Barney and they don't know racism. Teaching them about MLK opens a door to something they don't know exists. Growing up in a diverse urban neighborhood they are very aware of differences in appearance; Melvin has dark brown skin, Balbina has light brown skin, and they have white skin, but they have no idea that those simple differences create a deep divide amongst many. Variations in skin color are a way to describe one's appearance, nothing more. When they told me there was a new boy in their class with brown skin it was simply telling me what the new student looked like. Overheard, a comment like that, sadly, could be misconstrued, years of assumption outweighing four years of observation.

We celebrated on inauguration day, not for the historical significance of the day, but with great excitement and joy at the transfer of power to a new and young President. They don't know that President Obama is the first person with non white skin to be President, nor do the care. Much in the way that I hate to tell them that women were not allowed to vote less than 100 years ago, I hate for them to know that electing this man as President is monumental beyond his qualifications.

Someday they will learn about Cinderella, that there are women who wait for their prince to come, and someday they will learn that Martin Luther King was more than a great man who inspired people, but for now they live with the wonderful naivete that skin color is really just that, the color of ones skin.

"Racism isn't born, folks, it's taught. I have a 2-year-old son. You know what he hates? Naps. End of list." Denis Leary

At Last, deux

My husband points out that my inaugural day post was not in the true spirit of the new administration, being rather, well catty. He is right. Let's try this:


"At Last", always at the top of my dance list, the song that reminds me of my husband, of our wedding day, and now, of January 20th, 2009. At last!

At Last

Then And Now

What amazes me, really, is that in my lifetime, which I prefer to think of as still rather short, we have moved from the struggle of Martin Luther King Jr. to the victory of Barack Obama. Generally I tend to think that so much of this madness happened long before there was me but that is simply not true. How grateful I am to be in the middle of my young life watching all that unfolds. Tomorrow will certainly be a day beyond what we can imagine while today remains an important day to remember all that happened before.