Life of Wry

One of the things I wanted to do to change things up a bit after Peter moved out was alter my schedule a bit. Lots of reasons… for one, I like being up early. But mostly, I thought it would give me an emotional boost, anticipating I might be somewhat adrift, maybe even down.

Being up with the crows, before the sun comes up, has always made me feel all righteous and virtuous. I thought it would give me that extra taking-care-of-business feeling, which, without a whole lot to do right now, felt kind of important.

Last thing I wanted was to be a slug-a-bed.

Sure I’ll write more about that as I find my way …

So far, this early rising thing is working pretty well. I’ve been getting up so early, I’ve been tired at night. Which means I go to bed earlier and it’s easy to wake up.

Funny that.

I took my car into Hoffman this morning.  Caught this lovely sunrise:

Many rewards to early risin’.

The second presidential debate really, seriously creeped me out. I’ve never been so disgusted by a public figure, anyone really, than I am of the republican nominee. Maybe I’ll write about it later, but for now, I need something happy and cute.

How about a current picture of River? Picked this one because he looks mighty disgusted, too.

I’ll tell you one thing, I’m looking forward to a long, deep cleansing after this election. A certain moratorium on polarizing political news is on the agenda, and some peaceful, soul-nurturing reading. Will definitely need to reconnect to something gentler and kinder.

A van load of us went to Sparks today to register voters for the November 8th election.  We checked into democratic headquarters in time for the 9:30am briefing:

They went over the voter registration form with us in excruciating detail; mistakes can have legal consequences.

When they talk about the ground game, this is it. The office was hopping with lots of staffers. People were on phones, people were signing volunteers in, people were training other people. There were political posters on the wall, lawn signs available to handout, tables full of buttons, bumper stickers, and all manner of political paraphernalia. There were also lots of balloons, streamers and a huge table of food–some store bought, some homemade.

Some shots:

It was fun looking around.

We each left with a clipboard and a map of our designated walking area.

We dropped off these guys first in their assigned neighborhood.. Nora, Chris, not sure (she drove separately) and Kathy, who was celebrating her 75th birthday today!

Then we dropped off Pamela and Shari in theirs. They got right to work!

Then Kelly, Ann and I headed for our neighborhood:

We all worked for a few hours, then swooped everybody back up, headed to a nearby supermarket for a quick lunch, then got called back into headquarters because they wanted us to be on hand to meet…

Ken Salazar, a former senator from Colorado, Obama’s Secretary of the Interior until 2013, and now Clinton’s transition chief:

…and Catherine Cortez Masto, a candidate for senate to replace outgoing senate minority leader Harry Reid:

Well, it was just really cool. They talked, they thanked, they posed:

That’s Kelly to my left, the organizer of our group. There are other women here from Oregon and other parts of California. Lot of out of staters come in to supplement local staff and volunteers… a group effort!

Because of the Salazar and Masto visits, the place was also crawling with media. That heightened the excitement. Felt lucky to be there that day!

This was also the day after the 2005 video came out of Trump bragging about sexually abusing woman whenever he wanted.. which in turn lead to dozens of republican party leaders pulling their support of the nominee. This made for lots of animated conversations at the homes I visited! It also narrowed the lead that the republican candidate for senator had, thus Masto’s visit.

After hanging at headquarters for about an hour, we returned to the streets. I figured I, alone, knocked on approximately 100 doors in my 5-6 hours of walking. I talked to a lot of people, both Hillary and Trump supporters. My experience was positive with everyone I met, or at worst indifferent. Our entire group only faced a few people who were hostile in some way. All told, our Davis group of eight registered, we think, 17 on the day… average two per (Ann actually registered seven, a couple of us got two each, and the others got one or none… it’s hard work!).

Afterward, we headed into Reno. Some shots:

A lot is glitzy, flashy casino stuff… and a lot is old-timey:

This is the downtown bus depot:

After scoping out a few Basque restaurants, we settled on a great non-Basque place, The Depot (near, but not part of the bus or train depots):

Great beer, food and service. Recommend it.

Headed back to California, home by 10. Great and very interesting day. I thought it was worthwhile and will do it again.

Here’s one of my favorite things lately…. this party Jim and I decided to throw for ourselves and everyone we knew who had just sent their last kiddo to college (or in our case, first and last) and suddenly found themselves rattling around in an empty nest.

Thought it was both an event worth grieving and an event worth celebrating.. with friends who were going through the same range of emotions.

But mostly it was supposed to be fun.

I made a sign…

… which I hung outside the front door.

Everybody came with their kid’s favorite dish to share.

There were about twenty of us. There was mac and cheese appetizers (adult style, from Trader Joe’s… our contribution), polenta lasagne, pasta in meat sauce, burritos from Guadalajara, shrimp soup, cheese bread (pao de queijo), bang bang cauliflower, cheesecake, poundcake with berries and chocolate sauce, a loaded green salad.. and a variety of chips, nuts, crackers.

And lots of wine (and dazzling tops).

The very best part was the sharing. We went around the room and said who our kid was, when they took off, where they went and what dish we brought in their honor. That expanded to what they were studying, how they were liking their dorms, what activities they’d already discovered, what kinds of challenges they’d had (with cramped space, laundry, mail service, class schedules, etc), and what kinds of challenges we were having.

Mostly, it was happy, proud, surprised… mostly elated at how the transitions had gone for all concerned… a testament to children well-raised. Of course!

Kids represented were Peter, Ray, Solly, Chase, Eli, Reed, Jacob, James, Alex, Jonathan, Chenoa, and Walter.  A few couldn’t make it (bummer!), and of course there were others we’d have wanted to include, but they still had kids at home. Didn’t qualify. Had to be ruthless.

It was a hoot.

Got some hang out time with LL today. The house they’re soon to move out of is within walking distance of the Sacramento River…so we walked along the levee for a while, which was nice.

Lorilyn and Aqua…

The Virgin Sturgeon is on the other side of the river….just a little out of this shot.

A nice trail:

I may have brought home a tiny bit of poison oak.. one spot on my chest. Huh?

Another post-Peter task was to clean out the refrigerator, pantries…

I’m not happy he’s gone, but it’s immensely satisfying to cull a whole bunch of old food.

There were a few science experiments in progress hiding in remote areas of the refrigerator (those were not so much his doing as just artifacts of a very non-routine summer), and there were countless half-eaten bags of snacky things that had become stale, so those went. There were also a whole bunch of supplies for school lunches that were still good, but we’ll not need again–those are going to the homeless shelter.

Here’s a sampling… including some really artful relics rom the cheese box:

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And while I’m here in the kitchen..

I tried what turned out to be a fantastic recipe for baked apple and winter squash.

I used these organic honeynut squashes I found at Trader Joe’s, and some Granny Smiths:

Peeling the squash was a drag.. they are so hard and so difficult to manipulate. I may buy the ready chunks next time or use a butternut–more bang for the effort:

Then layered in a buttered dish:

Drizzled with maple syrup, and covered the top with a crumble of butter, flour, brown sugar, nutmeg, allspice, cinnamon, salt, pepper. Covered and baked.
Holy sh*t, it was fantastic.

Served it with my new favorite marinated pork tenderloin from Trader Joe’s and rice. Heaven.

This evening, the VPs had their debate stage moment. Smooth as silk Mike Pence v. bulldog goofball Tim Kaine.

Tim Kaine, born in Minnesota (I already like him); went to an all-boys Jesuit prep school (on the debate team and elected student body president); went to the University of Missouri (econ, summa cum laude); graduated from Harvard Law (where he met his wife); worked as a lawyer and lecturer at University of Richmond School of Law; elected to the Richmond City Council; served as Richmond Mayor, Lieutenant Gov of Virginia, Governor of Virginia and Chair DNC.

Impressive academic and professional record. I like the city council part. Working at that level of government, as many of us can totally appreciate and relate to, is some serious public service training.

Additionally, raised catholic and between his first and second year at Harvard, went to Honduras to helped Jesuit missionaries run a catholic school. Fluent in Spanish.

He and his wife Anne have been going to the same church for thirty years, they have three kiddos, the oldest of whom currently serves in the Marines.

He plays, and frequently travels with, his harmonica/s.

Mike Pence is a creationist. All I need to know.

Kidding.

There’s more.

He’s a year and a half younger than Kaine, was also raised Catholic (though became a born-again Christian in college), also has three kiddos, one of whom serves in the Marines.  He also went to law school (McKinney School of Law). After running for congress twice, and losing, he became a conservative radio and television talk show host for five years (explains his smoothness!) and described himself as “Rush Limbaugh on decaf.”

Great.

Ten years after his last attempt, he won a seat in congress and about a decade after that rose to the position of chair of the House Republican Conference. He is a Tea Party guy.

And yes, a devout creationist.

The VPs don’t really sway voters one way or another (unless you’re Clair Underwood…your husband Frank’s running mate on House of Cards), so whatever. But I do like Tim Kaine. And I do think–while I dislike absolutely everything else about him–Mike Pence presents himself very well.

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I have no pictures of this evening’s debate (which people think Pence won on style, Kaine on substance). So, instead, I’m just going to poke more fun at the donald. Here are a couple chuckle-worthy meme things:

Both of which suggest former talk show host Pence was a good choice to balance out the ticket. Somewhere between smooth-talking creationist and blathering policy-deficient idiot there is a message the right can get digest… and a sentence the base can diagram.

Maybe.

I have subscribed to Anu Garg’s A.Word.A.Day for years. He introduces words to his readers in the context of history and world language. It’s mostly about his love of words and is always interesting, often useful. Reading the commentary that accompanies his daily posts over the years, you can clearly tell he’s a deeply thoughtful, well-read man, who cares about humanity. Sometimes, not often, his daily posts loosely coincide with global events (his readership is international). His commentary is not political so much as ethical, moral and compassionate.

Today’s, and in fact the entire week’s, will be devoted to words describing Trump. Wow. Nothing subtle about that.. the gloves are off, not that Anu Garg is a glove kind of guy. In any case, I’m looking forward to the week.

Journalistically speaking, it seems like maybe, finally, real coverage of Trump is starting to happen. Discerning coverage of Trump has been available from some sources, but the vast majority of people get their information from prominent broadcast and cable channels, and from all the usual ideology-driven sources. This coverage, while constant and relentless, has seemed to follow loose entertainment standards rather than shrewd news and journalistic standards. It’s been so demoralizing.

NPR has not let me down at all this season, they’ve been their usual fair and balanced selves. This morning on NPR, there was a particularly disturbing piece about Trump’s treatment of women, and another, of course, on his taxes, the big story of the weekend.

Going back to Anu Garg: he’s not a traditional journalist, but I’ll trust any commentary on any topic that is guided by morality, compassion and the common good.

A.Word.A.Day

with Anu Garg

I usually look for usage examples for words in A.Word.A.Day in newspaper articles. Nowadays, things are a little different — you open any newspaper and top news stories are about a narcissistic con man running for the president of the United States. It’s impossible to avoid them.

So this week we’ll feature all our usage examples from newspaper stories about him. We’ll include links to the stories — do read them. Also, we’ll include quotations from the man himself.

PS: I highly recommend following the reporter Christina Wilkie @christinawilkie on Twitter. Also, the writer Stuart Stevens @stuartpstevens.

PPS: Here’s a review of a new biography of Hitler. Try this experiment: Replace the word Hitler with Trump and Germany with the US in it and see if you can tell the difference.

narcissism

PRONUNCIATION:

(NAHR-si-siz-uhm)

MEANING:

noun: Excessive self-interest or self-love.

ETYMOLOGY:

In Greek mythology, Narcissus was a hunter and a young man of exceptional beauty. He spurned the nymph Echo. One day he saw his reflection in water and fell in love with himself. Not realizing it was himself and unable to leave, he eventually died. Earliest documented use: 1822.

USAGE:

“George Simon, a clinical psychologist who conducts seminars on manipulative behavior, says Trump is ‘so classic that I’m archiving video clips of him to use in workshops because there’s no better example’ of narcissism. …

“When, in the summer of 1999, he stood up to offer remarks at his father’s funeral, Trump spoke mainly about himself. It was the toughest day of his own life, Trump began. He went on to talk about Fred Trump’s greatest achievement: raising a brilliant and renowned son.”

Dan P. McAdams; The Mind of Donald Trump; The Atlantic (Washington, DC); Jun 2016.

IN HIS OWN WORDS:

“I feel like a supermodel. Except like times 10. It’s true. I’m a supermodel. I’m on the cover of these magazines — I’m on the cover of the biggest magazines.”

-Donald Trump (reference)

“My fingers are long and beautiful, as, it has been well documented, are various other parts of my body.”

-Donald Trump (reference)

See more usage examples of narcissism in Vocabulary.com’s dictionary.

A THOUGHT FOR TODAY:

You have reached the pinnacle of success as soon as you become uninterested in money, compliments, or publicity. -Thomas Wolfe, novelist (3 Oct 1900-1938)

And here is Charles Krauthammer’s take on Trump and his narcissism:

I would like to address my remarks to the statue.

Welcome to Davis, California Mr. Gandhi. That is “where” you are but I wonder if you know “when” you are—not the exact year (it is 2016) but the “when” in terms of the evolution of society and the evolution of the human heart.

Over the past generation mighty empires and smaller states have crumbled and splintered, leaving behind a growing tribalism and violence… and war that has become the background noise of our lives.

And within this nation, demographers tell us that we have nearly completed the successful physical “sorting” of ourselves into communities that are homogeneous in thought and ideology. We also sort ourselves “virtually” tuning out the views with which we do not agree and surrounding ourselves only with opinions we already hold.

And what of our hearts? In our age Nietzsche’s superman has met Rand’s Galt at the altar of hyper-consumption and that union has begat an offspring called narcissistic autonomy—a child that wills to be left alone to pursue personal peace and security. And we have accepted this child into our hearts. We have sought autonomy but have obtained only anomie.

Like sheep we have gone astray, each one turning to his or her own way.

And while we have not killed the God or the gods as Nietzsche’s madman suggested, we have certainly driven them out. We are abandoned to ourselves. But we still hear that voice—the same one that mythical Cain of old heard from the God after he had slaughtered his brother. That voice asked: “Cain, where is your brother?” 

The voice we hear asks us:

Where is your black brother?

Where is your immigrant sister?

Where is your refugee brother?

Where is your war oppressed sister?

But unlike Cain, who knowing his sin petulantly responded “Am I my brother’s keeper?”, we stand arms folded across our chests and boldly retort:

“I am NOT by brother’s keeper,  I am not my sister’s keeper.”

And like Cain, we find ourselves abandoned.

This is the “when” into which you have come Mr. Gandhi. 

And so we ask: Can you save us Mr. Gandhi?

Why have you come?

Who are you or perhaps more appropriately WHAT are you Mr. Gandhi?

Are you merely a symbol?

Currency in a patron/client exchange?

Brand India?

A god revered by some?

A scapegoat hated by others?

What will you do here Mr. Gandhi?

What will you do with them (gesture to protesters)? Will you dismiss them as a slice of nothing? As terrorists? Will you minimize them? Or will you approach them to engage them? To hear their stories even as they hurl their vitriol at you? Can you become their friend through the non-violent conflict resolution methods you taught?

So many questions… Despite them, we welcome you Mr. Gandhi.

We welcome you… but with some amount of fear.

Fear because it is not yet clear what we will do with YOU.

Will we hide behind you, to block out the conflict all around us, to shield our eyes from the violence all the while proclaiming we are peacemakers because, after all, we have our Gandhi statue? Will we ask you to shield us from the brokenness of our world? To merely check the box that says we have done our part for peace?

Or will we walk beside you like children, clutching your hand, hoping beyond hope that in some talismanic way you will cause the conflict to cease? Will we seek to derive a magical power from your presence, asking you to solve our conflicts because we feel incapable of doing so?

Or… will we walk before you to face the conflict born of our autonomy quest, our narcissism, our anomie? Will we engage it OURSELVES as peacemakers: turning the other cheek again, and again, and again—as you suggested we MUST—in order to move beyond the casual violence of neglect, to peace and reconciliation. May we find the strength to do the latter—to walk before you—thereby beginning the long process of putting an end to the “great turning away”—the great exclusion—so that we might rediscover human embrace.

Welcome to Davis Mr. Gandhi

My dear sweet son texted this photo to me barely a week into his college life adventure. It was a Sunday evening, a couple days after his first-ever full day of college lectures. He and a friend/s had driven down to Mission Beach to explore. I was so glad to learn that he was 1) making friends, 2) inclined to explore, 3) capturing the moment, 4) sharing it with me.

Today, we got to actually talk to the boy. I’d texted him yesterday asking if he wanted to catch up with Jim and me and he said, “yeah.” So we made arrangements to call today and, wow, it was really wonderful. Jim and I huddled excitedly over the phone on the couch in the living room and asked all kinds of questions and got all kinds of answers.

Our first official catch up conversation was great!

Have I mentioned how weird it is around here without Peter?

• We are buying far less food, just like they said. We buy milk in quarts instead of gallons and it lasts days.
• We’re running the dishwasher maybe twice a week instead of nearly daily.
• His bathroom is clean and guest-ready. We’re not sending people down the hall to use ours anymore.
• My daily rounds of tidying are not even happening. I realize now that I routinely spent at least 30 minutes every morning returning things to their proper rooms, pushing chairs under tables, removing empty cartons of milk from the refrigerator, making beds (yes, including Peter’s), hanging up towels, throwing away broken pencils, wiping counters, straightening rugs, putting shoes away, collecting socks, replacing couch pillows… gosh, so many things to restore order on a daily basis… and now I don’t need to do any of it.
• Jim and I are not buying an elephant ear from Davis Bread and Desserts at Saturday’s Farmer’s Market.
• Neither of us is stopping at the Hotdogger, or Burgers & Brews, or Chipotle to bring home Peter’s regular order.
• Jim’s not doing a gargantuan load of Peter’s laundry on Sunday mornings.
• Not that they’ll go bad, but we’ve little use for A-1 sauce, the packs of ramen noodles, the boxes of mac & sneeze, or the copious quantities of balsamic vinegar that were the mainstays of Peter’s diet.
• When we come home at night from somewhere, Peter’s not sitting at his computer with every light in the house on. There are no spatulas on the counter (a sign he’d been practicing some kind of swing), no rubberband chains strung between chairs, no golf clubs in the living room. The house is silent, minimally lit and just like we left it: orderly.

Well, there are dozens more signs of his not being around, and let me tell you, it’s taking some getting used to. Let me also tell you, I’d welcome all of it back into our daily reality in a heartbeat. Never minded, of course, any of it. LOVED some of it (“Elfin ear?”, “Food?”). While quiet and easy peasy, it’s just plain weird.

We’re also adjusting to new rhythms and routines, and lots of new normals, as relate to our interactions with Peter. Do we text, call? How often? How much space is right for him, how much connection does he need?

I have to say, though, so far, it’s all okay, but it’s only been two weeks since we returned from La Jolla without him.

Still in the glow of being thrilled for him, so no empty nest despair. There’s also a bit of novelty in the tranquility around here. Not sure what to expect as the weeks and months unfold… for now, holding up okay. And I know he is, too.