That's It! We're Leaving!

Did you ever misbehave enough where your mother just brought everything to a screeching halt, grabbed her purse, and you by the scruff of the neck, and marched out of a place with those words?

"That's it! We're leaving!"

The long walk to the car often included some of these fine admonitions:

"I cannot believe you!"

"That's the last time you'll ever see the inside of a [grocery store, laundromat, cousin's house]!"

"I've had about enough of you, missy/mister."

and the ever-fabulous


"You just wait'll I get you home."

"You have no one to blame but yourself."

This last one was usually in a seethe so toxic you were already getting sick from the smoke.

Of course, one week later you were in the same darn laundromat faced with the same decision about whether or not to use the carts as vehicular tools of destruction. Sadly, too many of us make the wrong choices here.

The same is true in the school-closure-planning-teacher-contract-botching-standardized-test-taking mess we allow to pass for school administration in Chicago. And it's why so many people grab their collective purses and their children and head for the door when they're confronted with having to place their children into this system.

Of course, those are the people with purses and the options to move. Many do not have either. Many, many, many do not.

I'd say just as many of us don't care. We do not give a hoot what's happening in some poor neighborhood on the other side of town. We're too busy desperately trying to keep our own situations from becoming disasters. That's the truth.

The additional truth of racism is a truth that exists everywhere, so I'm not going to parse it out here for purposes of this conversation, but please do not fool yourself into thinking that if all the kids on the Southwest side of Chicago were caucasian and of European descent they'd be in this situation. They would not.

That's fine. We can only do what we can do. But then please don't get all worked up when one issue is highlighted in the news and you have to pay attention in order to chat intelligently with co-workers at lunch. The fact is schools in Chicago have been failing for a long, long time. Teachers and their contracts have been a mess. Buildings have been half-empty in some cases and kids have been spilling out of closets in others. You know darn well when you avoid certain parts of the city it's because you're afraid to go there. But you also know children live there and have to go to school there. So don't act surprised when people freak out over having to walk their children four blocks in another direction, across myriad traps and urban land mines, just to get their children to school. Please be genuine and act like you know and don't care. That's the truth.

And policy makers? Please don't act like you care and have always cared. I'm fascinated by folks who have been in the same jobs for 20+ years publicly declaring their outrage over problems that have persisted for over 20 years. Um. You don't see a connection there? What problem could I have had with my budget or my leaking roof or my broken appliances that I would not have had to address? What client could I have failed to serve for over 20 years and still think I'm going to get paid? This disconnect between what a policy maker's job is and what the results of his/her labors are is something we ought to chart and publish every day until people get it. At least, however, have the decency to stop degrading our relationship with this dishonesty. (Other dishonesties, fine, but this one, please. Just stop) You don't care, you act like you don't care, your speeches that you care are impotent, and I keep electing you because I don't care. That's the truth.

Friends in the problem-solving and advocacy business? Thank you. Yours is the one voice in tune in this chorus. Please forgive me if I'm not always at your side, holding a banner or rocking a voice. I hope I'm helping in other, still meaningful ways. Please also forgive me when I question your methods or your reason. Don't be mad if I disagree with your conclusions. Sometimes I'm afraid to say I don't agree with one point or another because I don't want to be kicked off the progressive train. But the reality is that some of our "oooh - we could do this!" ideas are pie-in-the-sky unachievable. I want to first do what we can do and then do what we dream we can do. That's not a condescension or an admission of weakness. That's a pathway, a stepping stone.

And before we take one more step, we need a comprehensive city plan. We need a plan that addresses public safety, transportation, education, commerce, building, environment and all the other bits and pieces that go into building (and sustaining) a healthy metropolis.

The way we do it now - one panic attack at a time - clearly is not working. Our transportation is a disaster, our infrastructure always under construction and yet still always a mess, our schools are suffering, our communities are fragile, at best, and commerce in Chicago? We have whole sections of the city that don't even know what a department store would look like.

So the haphazard way CPS has managed this school closing situation is no different than the haphazard way they handled the start of the school year and the teacher's contracts. It's in line with the chaos that is our city government, no different than the slop they serve as a budget in Illinois. It's the poor cousin to the disaster that is our federal legislative branch.

CPS is no better and no worse than any other of these bureaucracies.  And we're the ones to blame.

That's the truth.

A Conversation with My Son ~ A Recollection in Prose

Mami.

Yes, Sam.

You do realize it's not a big deal.

It is. I'm so excited for you.

Mami. You realize it's not that important.

It is. You're being recognized for your hard work.

 But Mami, why are you making such a fuss?

I want to celebrate you.

But Mami, why are you ironing my clothes?

I want you to feel good. It's a special occasion.

Mami, why are you doing so much?

Sam.

Yes, Mami?

Because I love you, Sam.

Mami?

Sam! Why must you fuss? Why are you so interested in what I'm doing?

Mami?

What Sam?

Because I love you, too.

Hey Lady, Lean In To Your Own Life

Time magazine suggests in its March 18th 2013 issue that I should not hate Sheryl Sandberg because she's successful. If Time had any sense at all it would stop using 'hate' as a provocation, since I think we've got quite enough of that in the world and it never seems to serve a good purpose. Also, with this admonition, Time seems to conjure up a false scenario that I believe is infused in the entire cover story - at the same time that it portends to encourage women to stand up for themselves and believe in themselves, the editors suggest on the cover that we're still sitting in catty sewing circles, whispering nasty nothings to one another about a neighbor with a new dress.

I don't hate Ms. Sandberg. Why would I? From all accounts, she seems awesome and having no evidence to support a counter claim, I'll take that at face value.

However, some of the things she's saying in her one-woman show to re-boot feminism (a task assigned to her by Time, not necessarily something she's suggesting) offend me. I'll start with this: "My argument is that getting rid of these internal barriers is critical to gaining power." This, in response to the idea that fewer women aspire to senior positions as opposed to their male counterparts and that women have an 'ambition gap'.

I won't say that isn't true for many women. I'm sure it is. But the overarching idea in this cover piece is that her version of success is the one that all of us should pursue. Or at least more of us.

Really?

I call BS. Especially since Sandberg, herself, says "Ironically, having written a book about women and leadership, having, like the top leadership role is not the most important thing to me. I could have done that on the way out of Google. I had those offers."

Uh. What?

Amidst all the finger-pointing in this article concerning who's to blame for women not pursuing and achieving more senior-level success, up to and including Sandberg's point directly at women themselves, did anyone else notice that the author of this idea that women are to blame for their own stagnation is, herself, choosing less than what she could get?

Well, guess what. I choose that every day, ladies, and I'm fine with it. Very. I think a lot of people would suggest that I could do something else with my time. I sure could. I might be a million other things. But what people fail to understand about 'equality' is that it's supposed to be about opportunity, about choices. Ms. Sandberg truly believes that professional, successful women are not pursuing in greater numbers positions of power because they have some internal deficit counter that tells them they can't do it, it's not for them, they shouldn't even try.

But what if we actually have reached a greater gender equilibrium and women are exercising their choices? Don't like that answer? What if it's true? What if the more sinister of the possibilities is the reality: women don't want more positions of power. Maybe they're pursuing power in places where you're not acknowledging them.

More women aren't heads of state? More women aren't CEOs? More women aren't at the highest levels of ever organization and every policy-making body? Maybe, like me, many women ~ the majority of women ~ choose something else. They aren't telling themselves they can't. They are telling themselves they could do whatever they want - and they do that.

I don't value 'power' as much as I value 'home'. I don't value application of EQ (emotional quotient) in the workplace as much as I value it at the dinner table. I don't want to have to deflect questions about my domestic help or my childcare choices because "it's not a question you would ask a man".  I'll answer you head-on: I clean my house the best I can and I try to teach my kids, including my son, to do the same. And I take care of my own children, with a little help once in a while from family and friends. My husband would answer the same way.

That is my wealth. That is my power. I am at the top of my game. Nobody's bigger than me in my arena and not one of the people I care about would challenge that.

I'm glad for Ms. Sandberg and all the other women who get to pursue their dreams of success and senior-level authority in the areas where they want to be noticed. Ms. Sandberg needs to open up her realm of possibilities to include the idea that I am a woman of power and stature in the areas where I choose to be successful. Acceptance of that - by women - would be a real step forward - for women.

Just So You Know

The sub-heading of my blog title is "If I knew, I'd tell you..." which means it's on me to impart a little knowledge, now that I know some more stuff since the last time I said something. (We're using the term 'know' loosely here.)

First, Rand Paul is an impressive guy, as is his dad Ross Perot and his cousin, Paul Ryan... kidding! Lots of RPs and PRs in that group - do the Repubs letter-coordinate? No matter. Rand is an impressive guy - like his real dad, consumate presidential candidate Ron Paul - because he does not wuss out on his convictions. I think some of his convictions are batty, but they're fully supported by his actions in most cases. I know if we had more of that sincere discourse in our public arena we'd be an entirely different country. For the better.

Next, I'm quite certain none of us escape the "I know someone who" reference to children with special needs or gay men/women or people without medical insurance or someone who lost a job. We also know someone who works for or attends or attended a public school. We're likely to have at least one family member or friend who's got trouble with addiction and we've all had some interaction in some capacity with someone who entered this country illegally. (Set aside that if you're not Native American you or your ancestors entered illegally too.) So we've got to stop acting like all the public policy discussions around these issues relate to someone else. They relate to us. I know that lack of self-interest in protecting every single American or intending American is a failure to be American.

Also, this past week my children have not been assigned homework, other than to rest well and keep a balanced diet, as they engage in two-weeks' worth of standardized testing. I'll lay off my rant on standardized testing long enough to say, "Wow! What a relief!" We've had such a great week. We've played games together, cooked, had long conversations, kept TV to a minimum, and read lots. It's been so great and I've loved every minute. I wish every week could be like this and so I've contemplated speaking up at school to ask if we can have more of this time, even when not testing. The problem is I'm not sure every child is coming home to a family that can address the extra time with activities that are intellectually stimulating and emotionally rewarding. I'm not even sure most kids will go home at all, unless they have assignments they must complete. So I can't see my way clear to make a fuss about this at school because I know if I'm successful in instigating a change, it may not be in the best interests of many children.

Last, I'm not ideologically aligned with Rand Paul on most things. I'm not gay and I am legally married and I'm thankful not to include among my troubles a child with health problems or a worry that we'll be deported. My children come home to a family that is prepared for them and able to spend time keeping them safe and engaged. But that does not mean I don't recognize when someone different from me does something admirable, or when someone unlike me needs my support or care. I do recognize it and I try to lend my (some would say overbearing) voice to their concerns because I believe that is what makes me a worthwhile person. I hope others do the same for me, though I may never know it. I don't require reward or thanks. I know there is good in doing good for good's sake. (A quick slip of the keyboard might make that 'for God's sake' and I'm not sure that wouldn't be more accurate.)

So, just so you know, it's o.k. to celebrate and support some things that don't matter to you personally, because personally, I think it all matters to some person.

Unfortunate Geography?

I was born in Chicago.

If my parents were a tad less ambitious I'd have been born in Florida. 90 miles would have separated me from a life of privileges and rights and constitutions and a life of revolutions and rationed milk and socialized governance. 90 miles would have kept me from having the geographic misfortune of having been born in Cuba and the relative good fortune of being born here.

I wonder if the children in Sudan ever think about their geographic misfortune. Or the children in Rwanda. Or the ravaged Gaza strip. I wonder if all the Canadians and Mexicans who pour over our borders (don't kid yourself, please) and the Chinese who smuggle in and the Irish who sneak by ~ I wonder if all of them think about their problem as a question of geographic malady.

And I wonder how many Americans who gleefully embroil themselves in the debate around immigration know how absurd it is that our current rules don't allow for regular people to come to the U.S. to work, study and take up residence because their geography dictates otherwise. 

I wonder how many know how arrogant it is to behave as if they have some say in who comes and who goes across the invisible line, when just two generations ago all you had to do was have someone on this side of the line extend a hand over it to pull you in. 

I wonder how many of them can trace their ancestry back to the folks who simply took faith, left everything behind in the dust of their sad geography and trailed, traveled and traversed.

Some of those saw these words as they came to our shores.

"Keep ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she with silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breath free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

They saw a message - a big one - that said, don't worry about your university degree.  Don't mind if you're not washed. Don't believe yourself to be unwanted or unvalued. Indeed, here you are so much more important than all of that. Not only do we want you, we light your path and call to you.

You wouldn't have the inbred audacity to shout against your human brother on the other side of the geographic divide if someone else had not bequeathed that right to you. But why did he give you that freedom? So you could shout down your decedents? The immigrant who comes today tired and poor and wretched is not an opportunist or a lazy social-service taker any moreso than your family was when they arrived. He simply follows you in the path you have worn ahead of him, as you did behind the stranger who blazed it for you or your immigrant ancestor.

So Stop it. Stop it right now. Stop beating her back and shaming him and pushing them away. Truly, they belong here just as you do.

Or change those words on the Lady and reframe the promise of this country. Have you become what we used to abhor?

It is not your geography, alas, that makes you better, nor theirs that makes them worse, off. It is your belief in, obedience to and embodiment of an ideal that we are all, indeed, equal, all worthy and wanted. In the eyes of government, in the eyes of humanity, and in the eyes of He Who gave you eyes there is no better or unfortunate geography. Only those blessed with firm footing on solid ground to reach out a hand across every barrier, the seen and the unseen, to bring in the tempest-tossed and light their way to a new life.

You Asked For It

By request, rails on the following topics – and as a challenge to myself, I’ve included a bonus – rant in prose:

Hear the bell? “Dinner is ready!" Just the words, to keep a tummy steady!

Who doesn't love a ding? "Ding, ding, ding! Ding-ding-a-ling!"

I’ll tell you who! My good friend, "Ding, Dong!"?

A visitor you say? What could go wrong?

Don’t cringe that way When you hear the doorbell ring

After all, every little ding Is a musical thing

It’s a song on a wing A cousin to ping

And that makes it better Than anything!

Of course, once inside

A visitor must abide

By the mudroom rules

Hang hats, please, on hooks, Next to the tools

Coats in the cabinets Colored in neutral tones

Greys and Browns are o.k. In the savviest homes

A wet-safe floor is a must in a room made for mud

And easy-wipe counters to get rid of the crud

Speaking of crud – How ‘bout them 2012 Cubs?

Last year was filled with spilled catches and flubs.

But not this year, no way, no sireee!

This is our year! Can you say WOO WOO WHEE?

There’s no way we won’t take it

I’m right and I know

I’m a Mom. I’m always right

So I’ll see you at the show!

Maybe I’ll arrive in a race car or an old-fashioned trolly?

Though I’m not likely to come with Trixie or Polly

I like my characters with a little more edge

One who can cling, grinning, to a precipitous ledge

Think CatWoman, if think at all, you must

A gal with some shadows

And a generous – um – trust.

As for where I might while away hours

As I wait for the big game

Expect to find me in my kitchen

Where granite counters and cherry cabs reign

To be honest the granite was a boner of a buy

But who knew it then, when I was economically high?

Not me, nor all of the others - Thousands of us suckers

Who wish we could sell that fine granite For a supply of PB and Smuckers

The sandwiches we could make

Would sure come in handy

Since short selling the house

Is where we may land… y

‘Course therein lies the rub, if you follow along

‘Cuz we can’t afford this, though we did nothing wrong

It’s the banks, I shake my fist at the sky

And the congressmen and lobbyists, I shrug limply and sigh

What can we do, but just keep plugging

While we celebrate the Cubs record-high slugging!

If I’m not in the kitchen I’m cleaning the house

Or chasing that God forsaken grey mouse

Who visits twice a season with no invitation

And provides me with endless, manic, motivation

To sweep, mop and vacuum – the latter’s the best

With a Dyson, no question or lengthy contest

That yellow magic machine with the whirly middle

Makes me smile all the while like a cat with a riddle

Unlike that double-park scene Out in front of the school

Though I know why it happens It’s certainly not cool

Too many folks drive, without a place to stop

Coming from work it’s hard to walk, skip or hop

To the entrance to wait for your little lollipop

So we need traffic management

And who better for the job

Than my sharp-witted husband?

Such a smart-alecky pop.

Between him

And some guy named Einstein

He could solve all the world’s problems

By today at four-oh-nine

And he’ll do it while being just as sharp as white cotton

And humble, and sweet, and not at all rotten

As for my precious Lu, remember you’re a copy, darling

And a fuzzy one at best

Maybe you should try again

After you've gotten a little rest.

Better? Do not mess with your Mami, love

Take heed some advice

I’m dangerous with a pen

Really, any writing device

Recall what you’ve heard

Don’t challenge me with a word

Frankly, the idea’s absurd

And the hashtag? Apology preferred.

I've Had About Enough of That

When my mom said that, I knew the clock on her patience was ticking. It was fair warning, so to speak. I haven't heard that little phrase in a long time, as I've long since learned the signs of testing her limits.

This morning, as I read the news, I heard that phrase and it startled me. It was in my own voice.

Did you hear? Michelle Obama's face registered an expression that might have been an eye roll after something John Boehner said? Who cares? So what? I've had about enough of that.

Paul Ryan didn't like everything the President said in his speech? The president is a 'liberal'? (gasp!) Yes. But Paul Ryan also said it was important to be there because he believes in the peaceful and respectful transfer of power. Hey - anyone going to put that clip on the news? No? I've had about enough of that.

Wayne LaPierre believes that the President's inaugural address reflected a hypocrisy, of sorts, in that it called upon the Declaration and the Constitution for inspiration but, LaPierre believes, the President's stance on gun violence is an attack on rights those documents protect. "Words do have meaning, Mr. President" LaPierre said, "And those meanings are absolute..."  Is that right? Ever heard of an amendment? I've had about enough of him.

I'll say again, our forefathers did not have either the right to bear arms against their rulers nor the assualt and mass-killing machines we're producing today and we still won. We won. We won, dressed as farmers and bakers and blacksmiths.  You do not need an AK-anything to win anything. You don't and we can all be reasonable about this issue. I'm tired of hearing otherwise. In fact, I've had about enough of that.


I have an awful lot of conservative family and friends. I love them, adore them, invite them to my house, hug them, eat and laugh with them. I kiss their babies and send them Christmas cards. They are my children's teachers and my cousins and my co-workers. We have a laugh every once in a while when we traverse over common ground and meet at our points of disagreement. So what? We disagree. So what?

A house divided cannot stand. A great Republican said that, and he was right. I agree with him.

The only way we can change the frenzy over the few things that divide us is if we stop giving it attention - positive or negative. Stop watching those shows. Stop responding to those articles. Stop re-posting that garbage on Facebook. Stop, stop stop. I don't want to hear any more of it because none of it fixes anything. What fixes things is working together, giving a little even if you don't like it. Hell - all the married people in this country ought to have that figured out. If someone says something you disagree with or think is a little antagonistic - let it the hell go! Let it go! Still work with that person, still try to meet that person halfway - try to meet him 60% of the way. Try for the love of God and country, try!

The failure to do so leaves us right where we are. And I've had about enough of it.