Saturday, August 29, 2009

Goodnight, Liberal Lion

I had intended for my next article to be about the recent shift in my position on healthcare. I know you'll be stunned to know (not really) that after careful and thoughtful analysis, I've moved further to the left on this issue.

But that article will have to follow this one.


Because things have changed.


Completely.

Totally.

Tragically.

Irretrievably.

Permanently.

Historically.

Politically.

Sadly.


Wednesday morning, at 5:30 AM Central Standard Time, I awoke to the news that Senator Edward Kennedy had died. And since that moment, I've been distracted by the enormity of that loss and the tragedy that he did not live to see the culmination of his life's work.

Senator Kennedy's death has also helped me clarify something I've had a hard time explaining my entire life. His death has brought into focus exactly how it is that I came about my particular political philosophy. My reflections upon his life have helped me to explain how my politics have become the lens through which I judge just about everything.


Religion.

Motherhood.

Stepford.

Friendship.

Living.

Dying.

Right.

Wrong.

And all vast amounts of grey in between.


Senator Kennedy's words are more eloquent than any I could ever write.

"My brother need not be idealized, or enlarged in death beyond what he was in life; to be remembered simply as a good and decent man, who saw wrong and tried to right it, saw suffering and tried to heal it, saw war and tried to stop it.

Those of us who loved him and who take him to his rest today, pray that what he was to us and what he wished for others will some day come to pass for all the world.

As he said many times, in many parts of this nation, to those he touched and who sought to touch him:

'Some men see things as they are and say why.
I dream things that never were and say why not.'


Teddy Kennedy's ideals, articulated with a laser's precision, inspired a generation and some, like me, who followed.

"The poor may be out of political fashion, but they are not without human needs."

"And to all those overburdened by an unfair tax structure, let us provide new hope for real tax reform. Instead of shutting down classrooms, let us shut off tax shelters. Instead of cutting out school lunches, let us cut off tax subsidies for expensive business lunches that are nothing more than food stamps for the rich."

"Finally, we cannot have a fair prosperity in isolation from a fair society. So I will continue to stand for a national health insurance. We must -- We must not surrender -- We must not surrender to the relentless medical inflation that can bankrupt almost anyone and that may soon break the budgets of government at every level. Let us insist on real controls over what doctors and hospitals can charge, and let us resolve that the state of a family's health shall never depend on the size of a family's wealth."


My twelve year old son asked me about Ted Kennedy as I watched his internment at Arlington's National Cemetery. He wanted to know if he knew him. I said, "I don't think you do. I would like you know this about him. He was never apologetic about what he believed was right for our country and he never wavered in his ideals."

I was about to continue when he interrupted me with one of the sweetest things he has ever said to me. "He sounds kind of like you, Mom."

Then, I cried.

These words, spoken by Teddy Kennedy in 1980 when I was but thirteen years old, ring ever truer today.

"For all those whose cares have been our concern, the work goes on, the cause endures, the hope still lives, and the dream shall never die."

Thursday, August 20, 2009

(In)Justice To My Bank Account

For all of you out there without tween girls, you don't know what you're missing on the fashion front. The cleverly named Justice for Girls is all the rage. Stepford has not one, but two, Justice for Girls locations. And any tween in Stepford who is anyone has a closet that looks like this store has vomited within it.

I have previously dodged this shopping bullet by convincing my daughter that this was the "Grandma Store". Meaning that this was the special place that only she and her Grandma shopped and that if I took her there, I would be infringing upon this special Grandma experience. However, Grandma is currently living out of state and my daughter having an outfit from this store for the first day of third grade is apparently a matter of importance that rivals the moon landing.

So it was that I found myself, for the very first time, inside this store last night. Armed with a forty percent off coupon, I was fairly certain this experience would not be too terribly painful.

Wrong.

Justice for Girls did a serious injustice to my pocketbook. This wasn't enirely my daughter's fault. It was just that as she came out of the dressing room in cute outfit after cute outfit, the bill quickly escalated - even with the coupon.





First there was this lovely three piece ensemble."Mom, this cami is SO comfortable. It even has a built in bra!" "And this rhinestone jacket will keep my shoulders from getting cold in class." "And these matching leggings are SOOO cool! Now, I just need some sneakers!"





Which we, of course, we had no trouble finding.
I know, right? They're uber hightops. I couldn't believe it either.





"Mom, I totally need a new swimsuit for the lake. My one from this summer is way worn out and this is even on SALE!"

I know, but I'm kind of big on peace signs (which is what is covering this tankini).






Even though we went to the store with the intention of buying one outfit for the first day of third grade, I did have in the back of my mind that we should probably go ahead and pick up one of Justice's signature sweat suits for when the weather turns cooler. Which is how we ended up with this.






And just tell me you're not a sucker for paint splattered denim? C'mon try.





And well, I wanted this outfit for myself, but it only came in her size so at least one of us is getting a sequined skirt and suede boots this fall.





I do have some self-control. I drew the line at this. The gloves are entirely over the top. So we left this at the store (along with all my money - Grandma, please come home.)

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Confession


Here's a confession.

I like to think there is no one funnier than me in the blogosphere. I know it's not true, but I do pretend - a lot - that I am the funniest thing since Cheney shot his friend in the face with buckshot.

However, I'm coming clean today. There is for sure someone, right here in Dallas, that is funnier than I. I must thank my sister for turning me on to him. If you need a laugh, Geoff Johnston and his blog the.hanging.brain can take care of you.

Enjoy.

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