It would be nice to find a job that offers me real insurance, the kind that John McCain has but doesn't want to offer to we pesky Americans who don't get government managed care courtesy of the U.S. Senate.
*I regret to inform you that global climate change is probably not an extremely elaborate hoax, but is instead a serious danger to future generations/the earth's poor/all of us. But the preacher who suggested that it is a hoax backed up his claim by commenting on how cold it's been in Yellowstone this year. Yeah, I almost walked out.
And not to forget the music. My sister, who has great taste in music/art/clothing/etc., and I were just talking about Los Campesinos! And they're fun. So you should check them out.
Los Campesinos- Death to Los Campesinos
RIYL- Broken Social Scene, Stars, British accents, people who are fans of indie rock and decide to start their own band.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
A More Perfect Union
Obama's speech on race in America. Read it. Watch it. Whatever. This is a really impressive speech.
"This union may never be perfect, but generation after generation has shown that it can always be perfected. And today, whenever I find myself feeling doubtful or cynical about this possibility, what gives me the most hope is the next generation - the young people whose attitudes and beliefs and openness to change have already made history in this election."
Ben Harper- Morning Yearning
RIYL- Guys with acoustic guitars, Amos Lee
"This union may never be perfect, but generation after generation has shown that it can always be perfected. And today, whenever I find myself feeling doubtful or cynical about this possibility, what gives me the most hope is the next generation - the young people whose attitudes and beliefs and openness to change have already made history in this election."
Ben Harper- Morning Yearning
RIYL- Guys with acoustic guitars, Amos Lee
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Don't Tell Mom the Babysitter Is Dead
Despite my several month absence fromt the borderlands it seems that things continue to be totally crazy. And all this time I thought it was just me.
Anywho, here's your border round-up:
- 33 people found dead in a mass grave in Ciudad Juarez. In a surprise twist that no one saw coming, the drug cartels are suspected to have some level of involvement.
- Both Colorado and Arizona are considering Bracero style state sponsored programs that would help to bring migrant workers from Mexico for agricultural work. Where do I even start? Arizona and Colorado are two states, perhaps THE two states at the forefront of anti-immigrant legislation. These places are just tremendously hostile, in comparison to the rest of the nation, to having "undocumented" workers living there. And neither of these states used to have shortages in the way that we are seeing now. Incomprehensibly, rather than loosening or eradicating some of the insane policies that have driven workers from the state, they are instead choosing to institute their own immigration laws to entice workers from Mexico. And not surprisingly, the programs are having a hard time getting off of the ground. I won't even get into the economics of paying people more to do farmwork and therefore making the risks associated more palatable...
- Michael Chertoff has come publicly accepted that the virtual fence is not on schedule, doesn't work, and might never be completed. I am, in all honesty, quite shocked. Not that it doesn't work, that was never in any doubt. What surprises me so much is that the system was clearly doomed from the start, they (cynically) threw money at it for years, and continued to claim until very recently that it was hugely successful. It is just stunning that the DHS has accepted any level of defeat here. Still, it's great news.
- On a final, and more personal note, I found out recently that a good friend of mine from the drug and alcohol treatment center died from an overdose. He had been doing very well. His death is just one more testament to the high price that Mexico has paid because of the drug trade. His humor, care, and leadership will be sorely missed.
Update: Oops. Forgot the music.
I have been spinning Built to Spill- Randy Described Eternity like it's my job. This is only a 30-sec clip. Sorry, it's the best I could do. There are a few decent quality videos on youtube if it peaks your interest.
RIYL- Older Modest Mouse, A harder Death Cab for Cutie, Prog-rockish guitar jamming.
Anywho, here's your border round-up:
- 33 people found dead in a mass grave in Ciudad Juarez. In a surprise twist that no one saw coming, the drug cartels are suspected to have some level of involvement.
- Both Colorado and Arizona are considering Bracero style state sponsored programs that would help to bring migrant workers from Mexico for agricultural work. Where do I even start? Arizona and Colorado are two states, perhaps THE two states at the forefront of anti-immigrant legislation. These places are just tremendously hostile, in comparison to the rest of the nation, to having "undocumented" workers living there. And neither of these states used to have shortages in the way that we are seeing now. Incomprehensibly, rather than loosening or eradicating some of the insane policies that have driven workers from the state, they are instead choosing to institute their own immigration laws to entice workers from Mexico. And not surprisingly, the programs are having a hard time getting off of the ground. I won't even get into the economics of paying people more to do farmwork and therefore making the risks associated more palatable...
- Michael Chertoff has come publicly accepted that the virtual fence is not on schedule, doesn't work, and might never be completed. I am, in all honesty, quite shocked. Not that it doesn't work, that was never in any doubt. What surprises me so much is that the system was clearly doomed from the start, they (cynically) threw money at it for years, and continued to claim until very recently that it was hugely successful. It is just stunning that the DHS has accepted any level of defeat here. Still, it's great news.
- On a final, and more personal note, I found out recently that a good friend of mine from the drug and alcohol treatment center died from an overdose. He had been doing very well. His death is just one more testament to the high price that Mexico has paid because of the drug trade. His humor, care, and leadership will be sorely missed.
Update: Oops. Forgot the music.
I have been spinning Built to Spill- Randy Described Eternity like it's my job. This is only a 30-sec clip. Sorry, it's the best I could do. There are a few decent quality videos on youtube if it peaks your interest.
RIYL- Older Modest Mouse, A harder Death Cab for Cutie, Prog-rockish guitar jamming.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
No. Just...no
Ok, so this is going to be my second Andrew/Obama link in a row. I told you that I'm heating up.
A suggestion from Andrew for the hypothetically elected Barack Obama:
I'm going to go ahead and give Andrew points for trying to be both reasonable and optimistic. Gates has done a surprisingly good job with the cards that he was dealt. By all accounts he has taken a realistic approach to the war in Iraq, favoring strategies that will reduce violence towards civilians without needlessly endangering U.S. troops. So kudos to Gates for a job well done, and to Andrew for recognizing it.
That being said, this has got to be one of the worst ideas that Andrew has had this election season. If politics suddenly became, well, not in fact politics, but instead some sort of public policy meritocracy, then this would be a fantastic idea. Andrew is right, we should reward people, of all ideologies, for doing their jobs well. Good ideas, and the people behind them, should rise to the top.
Making a decision like this, in an ideal world, would be the sort of move that could build goodwill across the aisle and create a coalition for withdrawal. It would also send a bold statement to the American people that Obama is serious about creating a post-partisan Washington. This is, I think, where Andrew was going with this, and again, he does deserve credit for "being the change that we want to see in the world." It would certainly be unexpected, and in a different era might be a really good thing.
But we do not yet inhabit that world. In our world, Gates is a proxy for Bush's failed war. In the same way that Colin Powell provided cover for launching this disaster, Gates has become a screen of respectability that Rumsfeld clearly could not provide. Even as Cheney rattles the saber over Iran, pundits sleep better at night knowing that Gates is there to be a voice of reason. Gates' presence in the administration makes the entire organization seem much more sane. And this is precisely the problem.
Obama is running on change, especially foreign policy change, and especially foreign policy change in Iraq. To leave in place Gates as Secretary of Defense might be sound military strategy, but it is undoubtedly a political poison pill. To keep Gates in gives legitimacy to Bush and weakens Obama's narrative of change. Nine years later, the 2000 Nader fallacy that Bush and Gore were the same person actually becomes true in some strange sense. In addition, Hannity, Beck, Limbaugh, The Corner, Brookings, etc., get to trumpet the greatness that was Bush while furthering the narrative that Democrats have no idea what they are doing when it comes to the military/defense. I cannot stress how important it is to fight this narrative.
So long as Republicans are seen as the party of the military, no matter how much they screw it up, Democrats will never be able to lead the country abroad, or make effective critiques of the Republican establishment. As it stands now, Republican military decisions are brave and patriotic, while Democratic decisions are weak and uninformed. This is such a strong narrative that Hillary Clinton has embraced it by moving to the right on defense, which not only leads her to vote for crazy things, but also gives Republicans an added boost of legitimacy. Many Democrats followed Bush into war when high profile people like Clionton did not speak out against it. Think she learned her lesson? See: Last week when she argued that John "100 Years in Iraq" McCain would make a better leader than Obama. Yeah. I will note that this is not to favor one party over the other, although I clearly do, just to say that a one party in charge of the military situation is a terrible thing for democracy. Do we need more evidence of that?
If Bob Gates were the only possible person who could do the job, clearly that would be a different matter. But he's not. So let's leave the Republican-in-the-administration appointment for something else, shall we? Clinton really does have Andrew rattled. He needs to get his head back in the game.
Sunset Rubdown- Us Ones In Between
RIYL- Wolf Parade, Modest Mouse, Clap Your Hands, Say Yeah!, TV On the Radio
Ed. note: This is probably my favorite songwriter at the moment. I have been trying to get Wes into his stuff but he can't get past the vocals. What a shame.
A suggestion from Andrew for the hypothetically elected Barack Obama:
Talking out loud with Marc Ambinder yesterday, I realized that I hoped a president Obama would ask Bob Gates to stay on as defense secretary. Gates has been one of the real stars of the Bush second term, managing to guide the military between the rapids of Cheney and the rocks of reality. He's an immensely impressive, level-headed, pragmatic conservative, and he wouldn't, I think, be immune to outreach from an incoming Democratic administration faced with extreme challenges in the Middle East. No such arrangement could be made before the election, of course. But I figured it would be worth airing the possibility.
I'm going to go ahead and give Andrew points for trying to be both reasonable and optimistic. Gates has done a surprisingly good job with the cards that he was dealt. By all accounts he has taken a realistic approach to the war in Iraq, favoring strategies that will reduce violence towards civilians without needlessly endangering U.S. troops. So kudos to Gates for a job well done, and to Andrew for recognizing it.
That being said, this has got to be one of the worst ideas that Andrew has had this election season. If politics suddenly became, well, not in fact politics, but instead some sort of public policy meritocracy, then this would be a fantastic idea. Andrew is right, we should reward people, of all ideologies, for doing their jobs well. Good ideas, and the people behind them, should rise to the top.
Making a decision like this, in an ideal world, would be the sort of move that could build goodwill across the aisle and create a coalition for withdrawal. It would also send a bold statement to the American people that Obama is serious about creating a post-partisan Washington. This is, I think, where Andrew was going with this, and again, he does deserve credit for "being the change that we want to see in the world." It would certainly be unexpected, and in a different era might be a really good thing.
But we do not yet inhabit that world. In our world, Gates is a proxy for Bush's failed war. In the same way that Colin Powell provided cover for launching this disaster, Gates has become a screen of respectability that Rumsfeld clearly could not provide. Even as Cheney rattles the saber over Iran, pundits sleep better at night knowing that Gates is there to be a voice of reason. Gates' presence in the administration makes the entire organization seem much more sane. And this is precisely the problem.
Obama is running on change, especially foreign policy change, and especially foreign policy change in Iraq. To leave in place Gates as Secretary of Defense might be sound military strategy, but it is undoubtedly a political poison pill. To keep Gates in gives legitimacy to Bush and weakens Obama's narrative of change. Nine years later, the 2000 Nader fallacy that Bush and Gore were the same person actually becomes true in some strange sense. In addition, Hannity, Beck, Limbaugh, The Corner, Brookings, etc., get to trumpet the greatness that was Bush while furthering the narrative that Democrats have no idea what they are doing when it comes to the military/defense. I cannot stress how important it is to fight this narrative.
So long as Republicans are seen as the party of the military, no matter how much they screw it up, Democrats will never be able to lead the country abroad, or make effective critiques of the Republican establishment. As it stands now, Republican military decisions are brave and patriotic, while Democratic decisions are weak and uninformed. This is such a strong narrative that Hillary Clinton has embraced it by moving to the right on defense, which not only leads her to vote for crazy things, but also gives Republicans an added boost of legitimacy. Many Democrats followed Bush into war when high profile people like Clionton did not speak out against it. Think she learned her lesson? See: Last week when she argued that John "100 Years in Iraq" McCain would make a better leader than Obama. Yeah. I will note that this is not to favor one party over the other, although I clearly do, just to say that a one party in charge of the military situation is a terrible thing for democracy. Do we need more evidence of that?
If Bob Gates were the only possible person who could do the job, clearly that would be a different matter. But he's not. So let's leave the Republican-in-the-administration appointment for something else, shall we? Clinton really does have Andrew rattled. He needs to get his head back in the game.
Sunset Rubdown- Us Ones In Between
RIYL- Wolf Parade, Modest Mouse, Clap Your Hands, Say Yeah!, TV On the Radio
Ed. note: This is probably my favorite songwriter at the moment. I have been trying to get Wes into his stuff but he can't get past the vocals. What a shame.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Like writing my thesis all over again.
Andrew links to a moving speech by Barack Obama about his stance on abortion that touches on both his relationship to voters and the role of faith in public life. As someone who identifies deeply as both an Evangelical and a feminist, abortion gives me fits. How anyone does not struggle with this issue, perhaps above all others, is beyond me.
Happily, this is just one more reminder about what has already been made abundantly clear: we need more of this type of honesty, humility, and reflection in our leaders. As Bryce is slowing down on the politics blogging, I'm just about to heat up.
Broken Social Scene- Looks Just Like the Sun
RIYL: Stars, Indie/Dream Pop, The Shins
I embedded this one as an extra incentive to listen. Sounds like summer.
Happily, this is just one more reminder about what has already been made abundantly clear: we need more of this type of honesty, humility, and reflection in our leaders. As Bryce is slowing down on the politics blogging, I'm just about to heat up.
Broken Social Scene- Looks Just Like the Sun
RIYL: Stars, Indie/Dream Pop, The Shins
I embedded this one as an extra incentive to listen. Sounds like summer.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
What might have been lost?
I tend to forget that I am one of the few people I know who is obsessive/compulsive about blogging. This may come as a shock to many of you since I also tend to be pretty sketchy when it comes to, you know, writing on my own blog. I often miss a few days, a week, even a month 'round these parts and consider that no big deal, but I'll be damned if I miss a Matthew Yglesias post when there is the internetz to be had.
The reason that I bring this up is that I was enjoying a new post over at one of the best blogs ever today when I realized that most of you probably don't even know that it exists. Mostly because many of you have lives, but whatev. The point is that as long as I am going to be ocd and not have a life, you might as well reap some of those benefits.
So without further ado I present to you Stuff White People Like. If you are white, know someone who is white, or see white people on the street sometimes, I can't recommend this blog highly enough. It is so hard to pick a favorite entry, so I suggest that you just read them all. I do have to confess that I myself am massively white. If this was a medical condition and not just a blog then I would have terminal whiteness. Organic whole grain pizza crust white. Vintage t-shirts wearing, corporation hating, sushi eating, indie rock listening, Barack Obama supporting white. White white white. Which of course makes me like the blog even more.
I hope you enjoy. I intend to share good finds more often. I kindly request that you do the same.
You know what? I'll start with Bon Iver:
Bon Iver- Skinny Love
RIYL- TV On the Radio acoustic, Iron & Wine, Dustin Kensrue with a falsetto
In addition to placing "now listening to" tags in all of my posts, I'm also committing to finding ways to make those tracks accessible to all of y'all. I will also be posting RIYL tags (rock if you like...) so that you have some idea what you're getting yourself into when you click on the link.
The reason that I bring this up is that I was enjoying a new post over at one of the best blogs ever today when I realized that most of you probably don't even know that it exists. Mostly because many of you have lives, but whatev. The point is that as long as I am going to be ocd and not have a life, you might as well reap some of those benefits.
So without further ado I present to you Stuff White People Like. If you are white, know someone who is white, or see white people on the street sometimes, I can't recommend this blog highly enough. It is so hard to pick a favorite entry, so I suggest that you just read them all. I do have to confess that I myself am massively white. If this was a medical condition and not just a blog then I would have terminal whiteness. Organic whole grain pizza crust white. Vintage t-shirts wearing, corporation hating, sushi eating, indie rock listening, Barack Obama supporting white. White white white. Which of course makes me like the blog even more.
I hope you enjoy. I intend to share good finds more often. I kindly request that you do the same.
You know what? I'll start with Bon Iver:
Bon Iver- Skinny Love
RIYL- TV On the Radio acoustic, Iron & Wine, Dustin Kensrue with a falsetto
In addition to placing "now listening to" tags in all of my posts, I'm also committing to finding ways to make those tracks accessible to all of y'all. I will also be posting RIYL tags (rock if you like...) so that you have some idea what you're getting yourself into when you click on the link.
Friday, March 07, 2008
Paris Is Burning Anyone?
I'm headed out for a run and I was just lamenting the fact that I don't have Cheryl Lynn's "Got To Be Real" on my iPod:
Now THAT is a club track. It's an anthem, no doubt. I just had a little dance party.
I hope that everyone is having a good weekend.
Cheryl Lynn- Got To Be Real (obviously)
Now THAT is a club track. It's an anthem, no doubt. I just had a little dance party.
I hope that everyone is having a good weekend.
Cheryl Lynn- Got To Be Real (obviously)
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Best. Blog. Name. Ever.
Ezra Klein's got a great post up over at Momma Said Wonk You Out about why health insurers suck (his words, not mine). Not that I disagree with the sentiment. Definitely worth a read, especially if you are thinking of voting Democratic this year.
My biggest complaint so far about getting care has been the way in which buying into a plan is in no way friendly to consumers. Market pressures that force cell phone companies to explain what plan you are buying and how much it will cost do not seem to have impacted health insurers. Klein's explanation for why the market has failed when it comes to health makes a lot of sense.
From a policy perspective, Klein seems to favor Hillarycare over Obama's plan. As an Obama supporter, that bums me out. But his criticism seems legitimate. Obama really does seem to dislike mandates, but it's difficult to see how the system can be reformed without them. I'd love to hear a detailed criticism of mandates, but for the time being I'm content to trust Klein's judgment on this one. He is definitely a wonk, and health care policy is his area of expertise. I'll be interested to see whether Obama actually moves left on this one after he becomes president, or whether his resistance to Hillarycare is genuine.
My biggest complaint so far about getting care has been the way in which buying into a plan is in no way friendly to consumers. Market pressures that force cell phone companies to explain what plan you are buying and how much it will cost do not seem to have impacted health insurers. Klein's explanation for why the market has failed when it comes to health makes a lot of sense.
From a policy perspective, Klein seems to favor Hillarycare over Obama's plan. As an Obama supporter, that bums me out. But his criticism seems legitimate. Obama really does seem to dislike mandates, but it's difficult to see how the system can be reformed without them. I'd love to hear a detailed criticism of mandates, but for the time being I'm content to trust Klein's judgment on this one. He is definitely a wonk, and health care policy is his area of expertise. I'll be interested to see whether Obama actually moves left on this one after he becomes president, or whether his resistance to Hillarycare is genuine.
Monday, December 17, 2007
Why So Serious?
Ladies and Gentlmen: The Dark Knight
I'm excited. Heath has some pretty awesome looking chemical burns there. It'll be interesting to see how he does crazy differently than Jack. This looks a little bit more "crazy with nothing to lose." I like that.
Blogging should be pretty light over the next, oh, month. Not that I don't have anything to say (I mean really, is that even a question?), just that I'm going to be moving around a lot.
Just a week or so more until I leave hear for good. Very sad. It's a tough place to leave. The other day I was walking down the street when a car went buy with a speaker on top. That's a pretty standard marketing tool around town. The unusual thing about this salesman was that he was pushing bundles of marijuana. By the kilo. No takers that I saw, but there are plenty of dealers standing on street corners in my neighborhood already. The competition is tough. Oh Mexico, you'll be missed.
I'm excited. Heath has some pretty awesome looking chemical burns there. It'll be interesting to see how he does crazy differently than Jack. This looks a little bit more "crazy with nothing to lose." I like that.
Blogging should be pretty light over the next, oh, month. Not that I don't have anything to say (I mean really, is that even a question?), just that I'm going to be moving around a lot.
Just a week or so more until I leave hear for good. Very sad. It's a tough place to leave. The other day I was walking down the street when a car went buy with a speaker on top. That's a pretty standard marketing tool around town. The unusual thing about this salesman was that he was pushing bundles of marijuana. By the kilo. No takers that I saw, but there are plenty of dealers standing on street corners in my neighborhood already. The competition is tough. Oh Mexico, you'll be missed.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Am I lame for wanting a "love wins" sticker?
This is pretty great. Rob Bell made it into Time Magazine, or at least the online version, and they actually did a pretty good job with the article. I really wish I had been there to see him bring a live goat on stage. I also wish that I knew what his band's name was. Guess I'll wiki it. I'm thinking Pavement style shoe-gaze. He's the right age for it. Weezer cover band maybe? I can only dream.
At any rate, it's encouraging to see two pretty sane depictions of Evangelical Christianity in less than a month. Audible sigh of relief. Especially with Mike Huckabee running around. Quick, someone get a time machine and stop him from opening his mouth between 1989 and 1994. Seriously.
While we're talking about Rob Bell, does anyone know where he stands on women in ministry? It's been a debate between some friends for a while. I'm on the "he's pro women in ministry side," but who's surprised by that? Thinking about it further, that little debate reminds me of another good reason to like Rob: Focus on the Family doesn't trust him.
update: He's been in several bands. The first one referenced in the article seems to be _ton bundle. And they sound(ed) like R.E.M. I guess. That could be good. This update has been brought to you by wikipedia. Wikipedia: Best friend to lazy bloggers around the globe.
At any rate, it's encouraging to see two pretty sane depictions of Evangelical Christianity in less than a month. Audible sigh of relief. Especially with Mike Huckabee running around. Quick, someone get a time machine and stop him from opening his mouth between 1989 and 1994. Seriously.
While we're talking about Rob Bell, does anyone know where he stands on women in ministry? It's been a debate between some friends for a while. I'm on the "he's pro women in ministry side," but who's surprised by that? Thinking about it further, that little debate reminds me of another good reason to like Rob: Focus on the Family doesn't trust him.
update: He's been in several bands. The first one referenced in the article seems to be _ton bundle. And they sound(ed) like R.E.M. I guess. That could be good. This update has been brought to you by wikipedia. Wikipedia: Best friend to lazy bloggers around the globe.
Monday, December 10, 2007
Phoenix Gets Its Selma Moment
Intense Racism? Check. Government Abuse? Check. Imploding Local Economy? Double Check.
From the New York Times:
Showdown in Arizona, Where Mariachis and Minutemen Collide
By LAWRENCE DOWNES
Published: December 10, 2007
PHOENIX — Want to see America unraveling? Come here, to Thomas Road and 35th Street, to M. D. Pruitt’s furniture store. Come on Saturday morning and stand near the eight delivery trucks barricading the parking lot, like the wall of an urban Alamo.
For the last seven weeks, a sidewalk protest here by Latino immigrants has blossomed into a feverish reality show, attracting Minutemen, mariachis, children dancing in Mexican folk costumes, white racists, United Nations observers, Phoenix police officers and Maricopa County sheriff’s deputies.
The weekly confrontation — strident and stalemated — perfectly mimics the national debate. But it’s a sideshow to something even uglier: what happens when immigration’s complexities are handed to local law enforcers sympathetic to the fury of one side.
Thomas Road has lots of Latino day laborers, or jornaleros, who hustle for work near Home Depot. A few months ago, the Phoenix police shooed them away. They dispersed to streets nearby, angering local businesses. One of the biggest, Pruitt’s, hired off-duty city police officers to keep jornaleros at bay. The city put a stop to that, so Pruitt’s turned to the county sheriff, Joe Arpaio.
Sheriff Joe, as he is known, needed no prodding: hunting undocumented immigrants is his specialty. He has arrested hundreds under a state antismuggling law (for smuggling themselves) and has had 160 officers deputized as federal immigration agents. They have made more than 50 arrests near Pruitt’s since the protests began. They’ll pull a car over for a traffic infraction, then check everyone’s papers. They say they act on reasonable suspicion only — if they see a shirt or shoes like those worn south of the border or hear Spanish. They say it isn’t profiling.
There is no doubt whose side Sheriff Joe is on. He has officers on Pruitt’s payroll, guarding the lot on protest days. Last week, he issued a news release demanding that the demonstrators stop hurting Pruitt’s and vowing to crank up the pressure until they went away. It was a naked attempt to stifle dissent and help a business ally.
People here are used to that from Sheriff Joe. He describes himself as “America’s meanest sheriff” and has recently been basking in the love of nativists like the Minuteman Chris Simcox and radio host Terry Anderson, who gushed over him at a roast in Sun City West this month.
If Arizona begins punishing companies that hire illegal workers under a state law that takes effect Jan. 1 — a lawsuit to block it was thrown out Friday — it will fall to counties to do the purge. In Maricopa, that means Sheriff Joe.
The protests at Pruitt’s are the only real opposition he has faced. Their leader is Salvador Reza, a stocky American of Mexican and Apache ancestry, an Air Force veteran who has spent years organizing jornaleros and small-business owners here.
Mr. Reza says he can’t understand why America accepts global flows of companies, money and jobs but not workers. Why faith in market forces seems to have been eclipsed by fear of immigrants. Or why the country cannot set up legal channels to let jornaleros come and go and not be hassled. “They actually are people with a work ethic that would make the Puritans proud,” he said.
Pruitt’s owner, Roger Sensing, says he needs armed officers to protect customers from jornaleros. Mr. Reza calls that ridiculous, and one informed noncombatant, the Rev. Craig Geiger, pastor of a Lutheran church across the street, agrees. He told me he had never seen a laborer enter Pruitt’s lot. He also said his Latino congregation did not drive to church anymore. Documented or not, they fear Sheriff Joe. They walk.
Pastor Geiger leaves the neighborhood on Saturdays, because it gets deafening. When I was there, a trio singing Mexican ballads strolled through the crush. A Minuteman with a bullhorn followed them. “Monkeys coming through!” he shouted. His side rushed up to drown the music out: “Born in the U.S.A.! Born in the U.S.A.! K.K.K.! Viva la Migra! January First!”
The restrictionists see Jan. 1 as the dawn of a new era, when the Mexicans disappear and everything gets pure and legal again. It is uncertain whether Arizona’s economy will survive the exodus. “Unfortunately, they’ll probably wake up when they bankrupt the state,” Mr. Reza told me.
From the New York Times:
Showdown in Arizona, Where Mariachis and Minutemen Collide
By LAWRENCE DOWNES
Published: December 10, 2007
PHOENIX — Want to see America unraveling? Come here, to Thomas Road and 35th Street, to M. D. Pruitt’s furniture store. Come on Saturday morning and stand near the eight delivery trucks barricading the parking lot, like the wall of an urban Alamo.
For the last seven weeks, a sidewalk protest here by Latino immigrants has blossomed into a feverish reality show, attracting Minutemen, mariachis, children dancing in Mexican folk costumes, white racists, United Nations observers, Phoenix police officers and Maricopa County sheriff’s deputies.
The weekly confrontation — strident and stalemated — perfectly mimics the national debate. But it’s a sideshow to something even uglier: what happens when immigration’s complexities are handed to local law enforcers sympathetic to the fury of one side.
Thomas Road has lots of Latino day laborers, or jornaleros, who hustle for work near Home Depot. A few months ago, the Phoenix police shooed them away. They dispersed to streets nearby, angering local businesses. One of the biggest, Pruitt’s, hired off-duty city police officers to keep jornaleros at bay. The city put a stop to that, so Pruitt’s turned to the county sheriff, Joe Arpaio.
Sheriff Joe, as he is known, needed no prodding: hunting undocumented immigrants is his specialty. He has arrested hundreds under a state antismuggling law (for smuggling themselves) and has had 160 officers deputized as federal immigration agents. They have made more than 50 arrests near Pruitt’s since the protests began. They’ll pull a car over for a traffic infraction, then check everyone’s papers. They say they act on reasonable suspicion only — if they see a shirt or shoes like those worn south of the border or hear Spanish. They say it isn’t profiling.
There is no doubt whose side Sheriff Joe is on. He has officers on Pruitt’s payroll, guarding the lot on protest days. Last week, he issued a news release demanding that the demonstrators stop hurting Pruitt’s and vowing to crank up the pressure until they went away. It was a naked attempt to stifle dissent and help a business ally.
People here are used to that from Sheriff Joe. He describes himself as “America’s meanest sheriff” and has recently been basking in the love of nativists like the Minuteman Chris Simcox and radio host Terry Anderson, who gushed over him at a roast in Sun City West this month.
If Arizona begins punishing companies that hire illegal workers under a state law that takes effect Jan. 1 — a lawsuit to block it was thrown out Friday — it will fall to counties to do the purge. In Maricopa, that means Sheriff Joe.
The protests at Pruitt’s are the only real opposition he has faced. Their leader is Salvador Reza, a stocky American of Mexican and Apache ancestry, an Air Force veteran who has spent years organizing jornaleros and small-business owners here.
Mr. Reza says he can’t understand why America accepts global flows of companies, money and jobs but not workers. Why faith in market forces seems to have been eclipsed by fear of immigrants. Or why the country cannot set up legal channels to let jornaleros come and go and not be hassled. “They actually are people with a work ethic that would make the Puritans proud,” he said.
Pruitt’s owner, Roger Sensing, says he needs armed officers to protect customers from jornaleros. Mr. Reza calls that ridiculous, and one informed noncombatant, the Rev. Craig Geiger, pastor of a Lutheran church across the street, agrees. He told me he had never seen a laborer enter Pruitt’s lot. He also said his Latino congregation did not drive to church anymore. Documented or not, they fear Sheriff Joe. They walk.
Pastor Geiger leaves the neighborhood on Saturdays, because it gets deafening. When I was there, a trio singing Mexican ballads strolled through the crush. A Minuteman with a bullhorn followed them. “Monkeys coming through!” he shouted. His side rushed up to drown the music out: “Born in the U.S.A.! Born in the U.S.A.! K.K.K.! Viva la Migra! January First!”
The restrictionists see Jan. 1 as the dawn of a new era, when the Mexicans disappear and everything gets pure and legal again. It is uncertain whether Arizona’s economy will survive the exodus. “Unfortunately, they’ll probably wake up when they bankrupt the state,” Mr. Reza told me.
Thursday, December 06, 2007
All I want for Christmas is a burning cross in my yard.
Dear Lou Dobbs and Joe Arpaio,
You two make me feel icky inside.
Love, Aaron
Dear voters of Maricopa County,
Please stop re-electing that man.
Warmest Wishes, Aaron
You two make me feel icky inside.
Love, Aaron
Dear voters of Maricopa County,
Please stop re-electing that man.
Warmest Wishes, Aaron
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
Exile from Mainstream
Josh Marshall really knows the way to a boy's heart. Talking Points Media have a post up from Brian McLaren talking about his new book Everything Must Change: Jesus, Global Crises, and a Revolution of Hope.
The post itself isn't really life-changing, but the fact that TPM gave him the chance to promote it is encouraging news. What I sometimes forget is that the real world has no idea what Evangelicals are really like. And if the past year has taught me anything, it is that the information they do receive about us/them is not very encouraging. See: "Jesus Camp," anything James Dobson related, the Creation Museum, and President Bush. Basically, we are only known for doing bad and crazy stuff. The good stuff just doesn't penetrate. The parts of me that have stopped identifying as Evangelical really don't care that much. If they want to ruin their reputation then that's there prerogative. However, there is a part of me that will always identify with being an Evangelical. I can't walk away from that any more than I could walk away from W.N.L., or my Michael W. Smith tapes, or "true love waits." So in a roundabout way this really is important to me. Donald Miller has stated that the church needs to stop trying to do a P.R. campaign for Jesus. That's true. Love speaks for itself. But having the church shown as a destructive force isn't good either.
To have a rational, sane Evangelical preacher with rational, sane thoughts on the world is refreshing, healthy, and helpful. Even more so when that person is given a national platform. Talking Points Media is extremely influential right now and deservedly so, they do important work. Serious people take this place, well, seriously. With this post people who have heard about "Jesus Camp," but don't actually know any normal Evangelical Christians, now have some exposure to someone who both loves Jesus and speaks in a really humble way. Great, huh?
I am, by the way, really looking forward to reading this book. Especially since Just Coffee is the OFFICIAL coffee of his book tour. Seriously).
The post itself isn't really life-changing, but the fact that TPM gave him the chance to promote it is encouraging news. What I sometimes forget is that the real world has no idea what Evangelicals are really like. And if the past year has taught me anything, it is that the information they do receive about us/them is not very encouraging. See: "Jesus Camp," anything James Dobson related, the Creation Museum, and President Bush. Basically, we are only known for doing bad and crazy stuff. The good stuff just doesn't penetrate. The parts of me that have stopped identifying as Evangelical really don't care that much. If they want to ruin their reputation then that's there prerogative. However, there is a part of me that will always identify with being an Evangelical. I can't walk away from that any more than I could walk away from W.N.L., or my Michael W. Smith tapes, or "true love waits." So in a roundabout way this really is important to me. Donald Miller has stated that the church needs to stop trying to do a P.R. campaign for Jesus. That's true. Love speaks for itself. But having the church shown as a destructive force isn't good either.
To have a rational, sane Evangelical preacher with rational, sane thoughts on the world is refreshing, healthy, and helpful. Even more so when that person is given a national platform. Talking Points Media is extremely influential right now and deservedly so, they do important work. Serious people take this place, well, seriously. With this post people who have heard about "Jesus Camp," but don't actually know any normal Evangelical Christians, now have some exposure to someone who both loves Jesus and speaks in a really humble way. Great, huh?
I am, by the way, really looking forward to reading this book. Especially since Just Coffee is the OFFICIAL coffee of his book tour. Seriously).
Monday, December 03, 2007
Three birds meet one stone.
Bill Bryson blogging for Bryce, Irish blogging for Travis, and immigration blogging for myself. Does the internet get any better? I submit it does not.
From Bryson's Made in America
"If one attitude can be said to characterize America's regard for immigration over the past two hundred years it is the belief that while immigration was unquestionably a wise and prescient thing in the case of one's parents or grandparents, it really ought to stop now."
Slow clap.
But here's where it really gets good:
"From the earliest days, immigrants aroused alarm and attracted epithets. For the most part, early nicknames for foreigners were only mildly abusive, or even rather backhandedly affectionate. This was particularly the case with the Irish, whose fondness for drinking and brawling and perceived lack of acquaintance with the higher mental processes inspired a number of mostly good-natured terms of derogation, so that a police station was an Irish clubhouse, a wheelbarrow was an Irish buggy, bricks were Irish confetti, and an Irish beauty was a woman with two black eyes."
Two thoughts:
1. Those don't actually seem to be all that good-natured, but maybe that's just me.
2. The Border Patrol have a type of truck that we tend to call "dog catchers" because they resemble the type of vehicle used by animal control. I don't really like using the term because it sort of implies, by default, that migrants are the dogs, but the only other term I know for such a truck is a "paddywagon," which clearly has some pretty negative connotations for the Irish. So long after the Irish are really known for being arrested in masse, whether the stereotype was true or not, the name sticks. Language is fascinating.
From Bryson's Made in America
"If one attitude can be said to characterize America's regard for immigration over the past two hundred years it is the belief that while immigration was unquestionably a wise and prescient thing in the case of one's parents or grandparents, it really ought to stop now."
Slow clap.
But here's where it really gets good:
"From the earliest days, immigrants aroused alarm and attracted epithets. For the most part, early nicknames for foreigners were only mildly abusive, or even rather backhandedly affectionate. This was particularly the case with the Irish, whose fondness for drinking and brawling and perceived lack of acquaintance with the higher mental processes inspired a number of mostly good-natured terms of derogation, so that a police station was an Irish clubhouse, a wheelbarrow was an Irish buggy, bricks were Irish confetti, and an Irish beauty was a woman with two black eyes."
Two thoughts:
1. Those don't actually seem to be all that good-natured, but maybe that's just me.
2. The Border Patrol have a type of truck that we tend to call "dog catchers" because they resemble the type of vehicle used by animal control. I don't really like using the term because it sort of implies, by default, that migrants are the dogs, but the only other term I know for such a truck is a "paddywagon," which clearly has some pretty negative connotations for the Irish. So long after the Irish are really known for being arrested in masse, whether the stereotype was true or not, the name sticks. Language is fascinating.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Bonecrusher n00dz r so hawt right now.
So I was robbed yesterday.
It is sort of a long and complicated story, but the basic plot line is that someone tried to break into my apartment by ripping out the lock, failed, and then came back the next day to finish the job while I was out trying to get it fixed. Annoying, I know.
I didn't actually realize that I had been robbed until about 24 hours after it happened. I woke up this morning, tried to look at my old cell phone to see what time it was, and realized that it wasn't there.
Neither was the cord.
Neither was my guitar.
"Am I going crazy?" I thought. And then, as the haze cleared, "shit."
It took me a while to think about looking to see if anything else was missing. It doesn't look like I have lany fewer DVDs than I used to, but I didn't really check. The three dollars on my dresser are still there. So are my CDs. I guess it's a good thing that I keep my Daddy Yankee and Fat Joe collections in a safe under the bed.
In related news, my digital camera seems to have grown legs and walked away.
So I'm oscillating between being a little bit and very upset. Clearly I'm not happy about the idea of being robbed. It's like, "Really? Robbing people? Wow." And I'm not happy that they broke into the outside courtyard, but that I left my inside door unlocked. Because now it's partly my fault. Except that our apartments have this really neat little design flaw where it's entirely possible to be both locked in the courtyard and out of the house AT THE EXACT SAME TIME. So if I could go back, I don't know that I'd do it any differently. But of course I am second guessing myself because making the "wrong" decision has cost me about $800. Sweet.
What really bothers me is the specific stuff that I lost. For one, whoever stole my phone is going to be disappointed that it a) has no service and b) doesn't work even if it did. So they have something which is useless to them, and I no longer have the pictures that I took over the past three years.
And the camera does not make me happy either. It was only a year old, and a Christmas present from my dad. I asked him to help me buy a camera. He bought it for me. He's so generous. It had my only pictures of Deanna on it. It had the pictures of Chiapas that I take around to show people on it. So, no more camera.
But it's the guitar that kills me. I love playing that guitar. And I love that my mom bought it for me. I remember thinking of how much it meant to me. How cool I felt. I remember knowing that she saved up money to buy me that guitar. My sixteenth birthday present. I was always going to keep that guitar because of what it meant to me.
It's not the stuff, it's what that stuff means to me.
The bright side? They didn't steal my hot water heater. That's a popular little item here in Agua Prieta. Three cheers for hot showers.
It is sort of a long and complicated story, but the basic plot line is that someone tried to break into my apartment by ripping out the lock, failed, and then came back the next day to finish the job while I was out trying to get it fixed. Annoying, I know.
I didn't actually realize that I had been robbed until about 24 hours after it happened. I woke up this morning, tried to look at my old cell phone to see what time it was, and realized that it wasn't there.
Neither was the cord.
Neither was my guitar.
"Am I going crazy?" I thought. And then, as the haze cleared, "shit."
It took me a while to think about looking to see if anything else was missing. It doesn't look like I have lany fewer DVDs than I used to, but I didn't really check. The three dollars on my dresser are still there. So are my CDs. I guess it's a good thing that I keep my Daddy Yankee and Fat Joe collections in a safe under the bed.
In related news, my digital camera seems to have grown legs and walked away.
So I'm oscillating between being a little bit and very upset. Clearly I'm not happy about the idea of being robbed. It's like, "Really? Robbing people? Wow." And I'm not happy that they broke into the outside courtyard, but that I left my inside door unlocked. Because now it's partly my fault. Except that our apartments have this really neat little design flaw where it's entirely possible to be both locked in the courtyard and out of the house AT THE EXACT SAME TIME. So if I could go back, I don't know that I'd do it any differently. But of course I am second guessing myself because making the "wrong" decision has cost me about $800. Sweet.
What really bothers me is the specific stuff that I lost. For one, whoever stole my phone is going to be disappointed that it a) has no service and b) doesn't work even if it did. So they have something which is useless to them, and I no longer have the pictures that I took over the past three years.
And the camera does not make me happy either. It was only a year old, and a Christmas present from my dad. I asked him to help me buy a camera. He bought it for me. He's so generous. It had my only pictures of Deanna on it. It had the pictures of Chiapas that I take around to show people on it. So, no more camera.
But it's the guitar that kills me. I love playing that guitar. And I love that my mom bought it for me. I remember thinking of how much it meant to me. How cool I felt. I remember knowing that she saved up money to buy me that guitar. My sixteenth birthday present. I was always going to keep that guitar because of what it meant to me.
It's not the stuff, it's what that stuff means to me.
The bright side? They didn't steal my hot water heater. That's a popular little item here in Agua Prieta. Three cheers for hot showers.
Monday, November 26, 2007
The Personal is Political
I walked home the other night through the very cold streets of Agua Prieta. Everyone except for me had the good sense to be hiding inside, so all of my usual haunts were closed. No late night tacos, tortas, or burritos to be found, with the exception of "Taqueria In-n-out." It's open late, but it's also super expensive and excessively greasy. And they don't have guacamole. Definitely not my favorite choice, but a boy has to eat.
I stepped inside and made my order, chatting up the man behind the counter. I wouldn't call him a friend, but I recognize him and he calls me "guero." We talked a little bit more as my carne asada cooked on the grill. My spanish is always worse at night but I was making an effort. Eventually the conversation got around to the inevitable "where do you work and what are you doing here?" I explained a little bit about what I do, and then asked him where he was from.
"I spent 29 years living over there" he said.
"29 years?" I asked. "Wow, that's a lot. Why are you back here?"
This is where it always gets interesting.
"They banned me for life," he replied.
Which of course leaves me wondering which law he broke. They almost never ban people for life.
"What'd you do?" I asked.
"I was selling drugs."
And just like that the conversation was over. The point when they tell me that they were driving drunk/selling drugs/beating their wives is always the point when I get annoyed and sometimes stop talking. It's not that I'm judging them for what they did (although clearly I'm not crazy about any of those things). I get so annoyed because it just seems to justify the fence in some small way. If I were in charge of customs and immigration, I'd keep that guy out for sure.
/rant.
I stepped inside and made my order, chatting up the man behind the counter. I wouldn't call him a friend, but I recognize him and he calls me "guero." We talked a little bit more as my carne asada cooked on the grill. My spanish is always worse at night but I was making an effort. Eventually the conversation got around to the inevitable "where do you work and what are you doing here?" I explained a little bit about what I do, and then asked him where he was from.
"I spent 29 years living over there" he said.
"29 years?" I asked. "Wow, that's a lot. Why are you back here?"
This is where it always gets interesting.
"They banned me for life," he replied.
Which of course leaves me wondering which law he broke. They almost never ban people for life.
"What'd you do?" I asked.
"I was selling drugs."
And just like that the conversation was over. The point when they tell me that they were driving drunk/selling drugs/beating their wives is always the point when I get annoyed and sometimes stop talking. It's not that I'm judging them for what they did (although clearly I'm not crazy about any of those things). I get so annoyed because it just seems to justify the fence in some small way. If I were in charge of customs and immigration, I'd keep that guy out for sure.
/rant.
Monday, November 19, 2007
Keep Crashing This Car, Over and Over
Why are we still so afraid?
The things we do deserve their rightful names.
Swing with all you have.
Stop me if you can.
-be sensible, jimmy eat world
I think that, in a way, we all bought into the hype.
It's the trial. At last. The trial.
And of course there's so much to be said about that. Justice. A reckoning. Punishment. Confrontation. Something.
Whatever we thought it would mean, if we ever really thought about it at all, we were not prepared for what it actually was. In poetry you can never say "I love you." In life it is never enough to say "good and hard." How to describe that week? Imagine Jesus descending into hell. Grace personified. But in hell.
The trial was, both literally and metaphorically, a destination. Something that we could look forward to. Something that we could place our stock in. Something that was, I don't know, tangible. But it was also an unwanted guest, still in the house far after we tired of its company. It was the emergency surgery.
And it's understandable really. We needed this. Some of us more than others. Several of us much more than me. We all needed this. But none of us wanted it to be necessary. All we've ever really wanted was escape.
When I try to think of the last time that I sat down with a bunch of other people from Central Presbyterian to discuss Peter, for any reason, I picture his welcome party. The rest of it has sort of slipped by. I've never really talked to my parents about it. I've never gotten a card in the mail saying "we're having a meeting at the church, why don't you come join us." I've never had someone even suggest that maybe we should sit down and talk this out. What in the world would we talk about? How would we possibly begin?
Looking back, these events (the Peter years, the post-Peter years, the Peter's back!?! trial years) have all transpired with surprisingly little fanfare. Look back again and you'll be forced to realize that he has never really left us alone. A constant presence that everyone is ashamed to talk about. Scared to talk about. Confused about. The 600 pound gorilla in no uncertain terms.
I got a phone call this morning saying that Peter has been arrested. Again.
I couldn't move on even if I wanted to.
When the stone first hit the water, the disruption of our lives was just too much. Surface tension destroyed. The rotting muck underneath revealed. And when the water returned to glass, no one could intentionally throw another stone. But the wake remains, bouncing off the shore and ricocheting around us. The ripples lapping against our collars remind us that we are up to our necks. The temperature drops slowly. We alternate between bouts of confused panic and treacherous sleep.
Look out the window. The green bleeds away, leaving a sickly, jaundiced yellow in its place. The lazy breeze speeds up, and then its temperament sours. The wind grows teeth and tears at the flesh of the trees. And then one day you realize that the cover from your shade tree is gone. You look up to see a weathered oak standing naked in the sun.
At some point I realized that all of this was choking me. This recurring sliding feeling wasn't going away.
So the trial, this public spectacle, became the chance to say that the emperor has no clothes. It was a chance to come out. All is not well. Something terrible has happened here.
Something terrible has happened here.
Late in the week I was listening to an expert witness testify about trauma and its impact on adolescents. Suddenly I became alert, conscious of myself in a room full of strangers. I was nodding along, picturing my life in the scenes of escapism and guilt.
Here's a test:
Do you often assume that people in the church are full of shit? Clearly guilty of something, definite skeletons in the closet?
Do you look for cracks in the corners, sagging rafters, proof that the foundation is slipping? Are you convinced that the building will collapse? It's only a matter of time. Save yourself.
Do you feel caught between the past and the present, as if some blunt instrument has struck your history and shattered its continuum? Endangered your future?
Do pieces of your life feel fragile? At any moment a wave will come and sweep them away, like great walls of ice abandoning the glacier and drowning themselves in the sea.
Do you search desperately for something that looks like Jesus and feels like love?
The trial unlocked the hard drives and knocked over the file cabinets. Information everywhere. Bits and pieces of fear and hate and betrayal just littering the floor. Millions of pixels all distorted. An image I had not forgotten, but had very clearly lost.
The trial turned out to be a chance for the world around us to crash the party, to reach the epicenter and look for survivors in the wreckage.
Ultimately, it didn't quite go our way.
Mistrial.
A miscarriage is when you lose the baby. We didn't lose the trial. We had a trial.
In some way it was validating. It was good to hear eight voices say that was has happened was wrong. That what has happened was criminal.
Why did I need to go? Why did I feel so compelled? A physical draw, my headlights pointed towards the one thing I wanted most to avoid. Was it to support my friend? Clearly. But what does that even look like? Was it to, in some way, confront Peter. Possibly. I confess that I always stayed out of the men's room when he was at the urinal.
Mostly I think it was because someone finally gave me the chance to show up, to walk into a room. To say with my presence, "this was wrong."
I have been living my life like a sprint since the moment Peter left. Or maybe since the moment I left Peter. I've been running. From myself. From him. From the guilt. But sprints don't last. You can't live a sprint.
I've been running because the temple where I worshiped, the place where I Am dwells, burned to the ground. All that cedar and bronze. Poof.
But we've found that life goes on without the temple that Solomon built. Instead of the altar, we've had the Nicoletti's table. Instead of the burnt offerings, we've had the Wicklund's fire pit. Understanding in a car crash.
Transformation just takes so much time.
If I could make it better for the people around me. The friends and the family. Oh God. I would. But I'm not God.
And God is. God Is.
I'd be lying if I said that I don't still try to offer myself up as the ram caught in the thicket. I'd be lying if I said that I was alone in that.
The things we do deserve their rightful names.
Swing with all you have.
Stop me if you can.
-be sensible, jimmy eat world
I think that, in a way, we all bought into the hype.
It's the trial. At last. The trial.
And of course there's so much to be said about that. Justice. A reckoning. Punishment. Confrontation. Something.
Whatever we thought it would mean, if we ever really thought about it at all, we were not prepared for what it actually was. In poetry you can never say "I love you." In life it is never enough to say "good and hard." How to describe that week? Imagine Jesus descending into hell. Grace personified. But in hell.
The trial was, both literally and metaphorically, a destination. Something that we could look forward to. Something that we could place our stock in. Something that was, I don't know, tangible. But it was also an unwanted guest, still in the house far after we tired of its company. It was the emergency surgery.
And it's understandable really. We needed this. Some of us more than others. Several of us much more than me. We all needed this. But none of us wanted it to be necessary. All we've ever really wanted was escape.
When I try to think of the last time that I sat down with a bunch of other people from Central Presbyterian to discuss Peter, for any reason, I picture his welcome party. The rest of it has sort of slipped by. I've never really talked to my parents about it. I've never gotten a card in the mail saying "we're having a meeting at the church, why don't you come join us." I've never had someone even suggest that maybe we should sit down and talk this out. What in the world would we talk about? How would we possibly begin?
Looking back, these events (the Peter years, the post-Peter years, the Peter's back!?! trial years) have all transpired with surprisingly little fanfare. Look back again and you'll be forced to realize that he has never really left us alone. A constant presence that everyone is ashamed to talk about. Scared to talk about. Confused about. The 600 pound gorilla in no uncertain terms.
I got a phone call this morning saying that Peter has been arrested. Again.
I couldn't move on even if I wanted to.
When the stone first hit the water, the disruption of our lives was just too much. Surface tension destroyed. The rotting muck underneath revealed. And when the water returned to glass, no one could intentionally throw another stone. But the wake remains, bouncing off the shore and ricocheting around us. The ripples lapping against our collars remind us that we are up to our necks. The temperature drops slowly. We alternate between bouts of confused panic and treacherous sleep.
Look out the window. The green bleeds away, leaving a sickly, jaundiced yellow in its place. The lazy breeze speeds up, and then its temperament sours. The wind grows teeth and tears at the flesh of the trees. And then one day you realize that the cover from your shade tree is gone. You look up to see a weathered oak standing naked in the sun.
At some point I realized that all of this was choking me. This recurring sliding feeling wasn't going away.
So the trial, this public spectacle, became the chance to say that the emperor has no clothes. It was a chance to come out. All is not well. Something terrible has happened here.
Something terrible has happened here.
Late in the week I was listening to an expert witness testify about trauma and its impact on adolescents. Suddenly I became alert, conscious of myself in a room full of strangers. I was nodding along, picturing my life in the scenes of escapism and guilt.
Here's a test:
Do you often assume that people in the church are full of shit? Clearly guilty of something, definite skeletons in the closet?
Do you look for cracks in the corners, sagging rafters, proof that the foundation is slipping? Are you convinced that the building will collapse? It's only a matter of time. Save yourself.
Do you feel caught between the past and the present, as if some blunt instrument has struck your history and shattered its continuum? Endangered your future?
Do pieces of your life feel fragile? At any moment a wave will come and sweep them away, like great walls of ice abandoning the glacier and drowning themselves in the sea.
Do you search desperately for something that looks like Jesus and feels like love?
The trial unlocked the hard drives and knocked over the file cabinets. Information everywhere. Bits and pieces of fear and hate and betrayal just littering the floor. Millions of pixels all distorted. An image I had not forgotten, but had very clearly lost.
The trial turned out to be a chance for the world around us to crash the party, to reach the epicenter and look for survivors in the wreckage.
Ultimately, it didn't quite go our way.
Mistrial.
A miscarriage is when you lose the baby. We didn't lose the trial. We had a trial.
In some way it was validating. It was good to hear eight voices say that was has happened was wrong. That what has happened was criminal.
Why did I need to go? Why did I feel so compelled? A physical draw, my headlights pointed towards the one thing I wanted most to avoid. Was it to support my friend? Clearly. But what does that even look like? Was it to, in some way, confront Peter. Possibly. I confess that I always stayed out of the men's room when he was at the urinal.
Mostly I think it was because someone finally gave me the chance to show up, to walk into a room. To say with my presence, "this was wrong."
I have been living my life like a sprint since the moment Peter left. Or maybe since the moment I left Peter. I've been running. From myself. From him. From the guilt. But sprints don't last. You can't live a sprint.
I've been running because the temple where I worshiped, the place where I Am dwells, burned to the ground. All that cedar and bronze. Poof.
But we've found that life goes on without the temple that Solomon built. Instead of the altar, we've had the Nicoletti's table. Instead of the burnt offerings, we've had the Wicklund's fire pit. Understanding in a car crash.
Transformation just takes so much time.
If I could make it better for the people around me. The friends and the family. Oh God. I would. But I'm not God.
And God is. God Is.
I'd be lying if I said that I don't still try to offer myself up as the ram caught in the thicket. I'd be lying if I said that I was alone in that.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Understanding In A Car Crash
"these broken windows, open locks
reminders of the youth we lost"
I'll get up a post about the trial. Just not yet.
reminders of the youth we lost"
I'll get up a post about the trial. Just not yet.
Thursday, November 01, 2007
El Chile Que Me Toque Como
I've been back in Douglas for a few days, and now I'm headed off to Colorado. Deanna, friends, and, at long last, the trial of Peter Kim. What a weird, beautiful, messed up week it promises to be.
Chiapas, as always, is great. The group that I went with was both excellent and not so excellent. But as they say, free is free is free. Central to all of this is my Mexican family down there. They are the best.
I don't know when I'll be back there next but it can't come soon enough.
But be honest, what you really care about are the pics. Well, here are a few:
Chiapas, as always, is great. The group that I went with was both excellent and not so excellent. But as they say, free is free is free. Central to all of this is my Mexican family down there. They are the best.
I don't know when I'll be back there next but it can't come soon enough.
But be honest, what you really care about are the pics. Well, here are a few:
Mayan Christ in the middle of a restaurant in San Cristobal de las Casas. German tourists in San Cris are like the Japanese in Hawaii or Americans in Cancun, but still such a cool place.
Pictures were not allowed inside this church, but that's where the real action was. Sacrifices of beer, chickens, soda, etc. being made to the saints. Very moving.
A village prepares the graves for El Dia de Los Muertos (Day of the Dead). Tomorrow they will be loaded down with flowers, food, and pictures as the entire community comes out to remember and celebrate.
Early morning in San Cristobal. Did I mention that this city is gorgeous?
Clean, perfect water. I love Chiapas. And taking pictures of my feet.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Another classic
From the g-mail inbox.
Two questions still plague me. How does Optimus Prime stay so young looking/sounding? What is his secret? More importantly, how does he know that I have always used "Bonecrusher" as my secret pet name for Kyle?
And a little update: I'll be out of town/contact/the countries (both Mexico and the U.S.!) in/for the next two weeks. So I'll be running phone silent, blog silent, and...well, that's about it actually. But I'll see lots of you in Colorado when I get back.
p.s.- Apparently Deanna decided to name Kyle "Bonecrusher," which only increases my deep affection for the both of them. But Kyle is losing to Deanna. Sorry buddy.
Two questions still plague me. How does Optimus Prime stay so young looking/sounding? What is his secret? More importantly, how does he know that I have always used "Bonecrusher" as my secret pet name for Kyle?
And a little update: I'll be out of town/contact/the countries (both Mexico and the U.S.!) in/for the next two weeks. So I'll be running phone silent, blog silent, and...well, that's about it actually. But I'll see lots of you in Colorado when I get back.
p.s.- Apparently Deanna decided to name Kyle "Bonecrusher," which only increases my deep affection for the both of them. But Kyle is losing to Deanna. Sorry buddy.
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