My Granddaughter is 5. Please Help Us Protect Her!

My granddaughter Ashley will be five years old tomorrow. I know that is why I found myself an emotional wreck on Friday, spinning between a crushing sorrow and a seething anger. This is way too personal, way too real.

As I went about my normal activity on Friday morning I didn't pay much attention to the beeps emitting from my iPhone and other gadgets laying here and there around my study. I knew they were signaling that there was "breaking news," but I also knew there was rarely much significance to the notices. Probably Lindsey Lohan violating her parole while shopping at Gucci's, I muttered to myself, or perhaps the fiscal cliff negotiators are reporting no progress.

And then I picked up the phone and saw the words scrolling across its 2" x 3" screen. I could only grasp it in pieces. It was as if the full picture, the truth of it all, was too much to take in at once. I turned on the television and just sat there for most of the day. And I cried a lot, something I don't do much.

Later that morning our daughter-in-law sent us a text recounting a conversation she had with Ashley, explaining why she had been crying all morning. I was so grateful for Lyda who knew she had to find words for Ashley at a time when she didn't have the words for herself.

Usually things like this prompt me to write or pontificate in other ways. I try to piece it together, make some larger point, sometimes generate a little dialogue, and then move on. But this time it seemed different. The news outlets were awash in words as people tried to find context or meaning. Sometimes a slice of understanding emerges but the reality evades any kind of summing up. We will have to settle for glimpses here and there, perhaps depending more on poetry than prose.

If there is a big picture here, a sliver of hope, it may be in what feels to me like disorientation. Roles are changing. People are questioning their own positions, no matter how devoted to them they may have been.

The President is being referred to as the Comforter in Chief. His tears on Friday have been replayed over and over, perhaps too often. He takes pride in his stoic demeanor, especially in difficult times. But this time the tears were what we needed. Somebody had to cry for all of us. It was not planned or rehearsed. It just came, undoubtedly in part because the President's own beloved daughters were in his heart as he walked to that podium in the White House.

Sunday night he became a preacher, matching the need to console the broken-hearted with the need to proclaim justice. Religious language does not come easily to him, but he knew that this was a time when the familiar words of scripture would speak in ways that his words would not, especially when spoken with his voice. It was disorienting, but that is why it was important.

Even the gun issue is being processed in a new way. Oh, the talking heads from the NRA are out in force as they always are. But already they are seeming to be irrelevant. Their mindless defense of the right to bear arms like these assault weapons that spray 30 blood-spattering bullets with the pull of a trigger is being seen for the nonsense that it is. For the first time in my memory politicians and commentators with 100% ratings from the NRA are stating, sometimes with passion, that things MUST change. Again, disorienting, but also promising.

The narrative that began on Friday has lurched and lumbered clumsily across the national landscape. It turns out that the mother of the shooter was not a teacher killed in her classroom, but herself a gun owner and outspoken advocate found dead in her home at the hand of her own son using one of her own weapons. Disorienting, and troubling.

Lisa Belkin writes provocatively that gun control is a parenting issue:

We can't just grieve and hold our children close. We have to demand that our country earn the right to call itself a civilized nation. We need to do this because our central job as parents -- maybe our only job, really -- is to keep our children safe so they can grow up. Easy access to guns keeps us from doing that job.

It sounds like she is saying that the problem is with me. And with you as well. Disorienting, but I'm afraid she may be right.

We don't know where all this goes. We have a history of having to face events like this, expressing our despair or anger or grief, and then allowing them to slip quietly out of our consciousness.

There is one thing that is different. These were children. Twenty of them, aged six and seven. That is the difference, they say.

My granddaughter turns five tomorrow. Please help us protect her.

Please!

Pondering Out Loud as the Clock Ticks Down

Two weeks from now we will know who will be president of the United States for the next four years. That assumes, of course, that there will be no intervention by a Supreme Court that seemed to enjoy appointing the president when the opportunity came their way in the 2000 election (okay, okay, it's cheesy and should be beneath me, but still...). In truth the razor thin margin this year doesn't guarantee any outcome--a tie in the Electoral College is far from impossible, leaving the decision to the Republican-controlled House of Representatives. Oh my!

I'm cursed by being interested in all this. I watch the darn debates. I listen to the cable television talking heads prattling away into the night. Sometimes I watch the late, late night reruns hoping the blue vote in Wyoming might have slipped beyond the statistical margin of error that Rachel or Wolf reported three hours before.

It never does. But then, before I could trigger the remote I would find myself in the middle of an infomercial for some kind of cream that repairs your male pattern baldness, restores your libido to when you were 14, and when properly applied reminds you (men only please) to put the toilet seat down. All this for only $14.95 plus shipping and handling, bringing the total to $87.58. It's deals like this that keep you interested in politics.

I've got some things rattling around in my head about this election and think it might be a good idea to get them written down before they become tainted by outcome. There is nothing to ruin a good night of pondering more quickly than to have it ratified or repudiated by facts.

Not my granddaughter but almost as cute.

For purposes of full disclosure let me acknowledge than I consider myself an independent but I mostly vote for Democrats. In 2008 I enthusiastically and tearfully voted for Obama and will do so this year, perhaps without the tears. I not only support him but I admire him. I am furious at the Republican intransigence over the last four years so it is going to take a while for that party to regain my acceptance in those few places where I might be inclined to support either an idea or candidate.

In addition, I recently turned 65 and am now the recipient of government largesse via Medicare and the Social Security Trust Fund (which I understand is currently busy paying off unfunded war expenses and other such obligations). I tell you all this because I believe that the closest one can get to objectivity is to disclose one's subjectivity.

What follows is a handful of words that prompt in me some reflection or feeling pertaining to the current election cycle. Each word could probably stand on its own merit but I'll give them a couple of sentences explanation just in case you, dear reader, think differently, and therefore wrongly, about its meaning. We can't have that.

INCIVILITY: During a speech by the President to a joint session of Congress Rep. Joe Wilson yelled aloud "You Lie!" That is perhaps the benchmark in a season of rudeness and disrespect that does not auger well for a political climate worthy of our highest aspirations.

PROPORTIONALITY: Little things weigh too much. That can apply to a poorly phrased idea or a faulty memory, but a deeper illustration is Obama's admittedly poor debate performance in his first standoff with Romney. Most analysts think a good debate by Obama would have virtually locked the race down; instead it energized the opposition and left an election still in doubt just two weeks away. Pretty serious consequences for a bad day.

CARNIVAL: The Republicans rolled out about 20 debates with a cast of characters that rivaled the traveling carnivals of my youth. We got a bunch of wannabes dancing on the edge of embarrassment--Herman Cain (thin crust), Newt Gingrich (smart but tone deaf), Michelle Bachman (scary cute), Rick Perry (even God's endorsement didn't help), Ron Paul (unpopular truths stir fried with blunt fun), Rick Santorum (see Manchurian candidate), and others. Eliminate those and you're left with two Mormons--Jon Huntsman (ignore because he makes sense and is experienced) and Mitt Romney (well no one will vote for a Mormon right?). A few others didn't make the cut. Can you imagine being told you don't qualify to be among THIS field of candidates? But the bottom line is this: the quantity and quality of these debates did not serve us well.

RELIGION: I spent 33 years on the staff of a faith community, eight years as the denominational president. I know a bit about faith and politics and I find the use of those principles in today's campaigns to be appalling. Several candidates said they were running in response to a call from God. I always thought God was too busy controlling the outcome of football games to take on politics as well. Those who want a reasonable understanding of church and state would be well advised to note that the constitutional "wall of separation" is designed not just to protect the church from the state but also to protect the state from the church. And to that I say,"Amen."

EXTREMISM: Even as I write this there is much ado on the television about the congressman who stated that a child conceived in a rape is a "gift from God." My own state features commercials about one of our congressmen who seems to know that if it's a "legitimate rape" a woman has the ability to close it down and presumably prevent conception. I can't even believe I'm writing this stuff. This campaign cycle has featured a war against science, a battle over the rights of women to control their own bodies, and it has put extremists in a position of forcing candidates to embrace positions they do not believe in for the sake of getting elected. We have a right to expect our leaders not to be scared of scary extremists. In 2012, alas, that is misplaced hope.

MONEY: This is the worst of all. Thanks to the same Supreme Court mentioned above, virtually any meaningful campaign finance limits were struck down. That left us with an orgy of spending beyond belief, and some billionaires or poorer millionaires made it clear they would use their PACs and Super PACs as vessels for contributions without limits and often without disclosure. I might be good for a $200 political contribution in a race I care about, maybe some smaller amounts for local elections. Why would I feel motivated to give a couple hundred bucks in a time when the well-heeled have bought the election for the price of a $10,000 breakfast and a photo op? I eat my Raisin Bran, sip my coffee, read the morning paper, and sulk. And for good reason.

So now we await the outcome of this tortuous process. We will each do our part in accordance with our convictions. It looks like a mess, but somehow it usually seems to turn out okay. I trust that it shall be so in this election year.

And then, could we please turn our attention to things we can learn from the flawed process leading finally to November 6, 2012. This grand experiment in democracy is sorely in need of a tuneup.


Note: This version differs slightly from the version posted online around noon on 10/25/2012. Edits were primarily grammatical or for clarity. In a few places, notably the last two paragraphs, a few additional sentences were written. The basic premises are identical in both versions.  (10/25/2012, 8:00pm)

Disappointment, History, and Popeye

Politics will infuse your dreams with hope and the next day smash them cruelly on the rocks. It's horrible, and then you suddenly realize, "My gosh, it's already the next day."

I was profoundly disappointed by the performance of President Obama in the first presidential debate for the 2012 election. I think I have made it very clear that I admire the president and support him in his efforts to build a nation that appeals to our highest values. That admiration has not moved one iota on this day after Mitt Romney trounced him in their first of three such encounters leading up to the election.

Let's be honest and realistic. The spin doctors waste their breath in trying to snatch victory from defeat. It may work with sports but not here. The majority of voters will not make their decision on some intricate mathematical formula that suddenly explains the deficit or keeps grandma's Medicaid coverage in place. It has to do with how we felt about what we saw. It has to do with likability and confidence and trust. You can't spin that.

Mitt Romney stumbled and bumbled his way to the nomination and has run what looks from the outside to be a futile campaign with a deeply flawed candidate. Then, inexplicably, he gulps down a can of spinach, pounds his fists on his chest, and knocks Bluto on his arse. And Olive Oyl swoons.

So, give the guy his due. He prepared, and to his credit he prepared content and not one-liners. You can make all the excuses you want for Obama--he has a day job called "being president," he underestimated Romney having seen his GOP debates, he was tired or had jet lag, or was not feeling well, he just had an off-day as we all do. Doesn't matter. Romney wins, Obama loses.

Richard M Nixon debates
John F Kennedy in 1960.

History is littered with failed debates and victorious candidates. The first televised presidential debate was Nixon vs Kennedy in 1960. Many thought Nixon lost because he had a five o'clock shadow and droplets of sweat on his upper lip. It took him a while but eight years later he was the president, winning a second term before being forced into resignation to avoid impeachment. It is a case study in winning and losing and we need to learn history's lessons.

Today all around the country there are pundits and campaign officials smarter than me criticizing, advising, retooling, and rethinking. It woud be self-indulgent to believe I have anything to add to that mix. My priority now is personal. I need to figure out what I am going to do about this disappointing day. A few preliminary ideas have already come to mind.

A few days ago I got an Obama-Biden bumper sticker through the mail. It's been laying on my desk. Today it goes on the car.

I will try to do my bit by passing out literature, making phone calls, putting up yard signs and all that stuff that works even thought we hate it. I will NOT participate in anything that smacks of robo-calls.

I've read enough to know that Romney's debate performance was built on an altar of half-truths and fuzzy math. I have given him a lot of credit in this piece, but that doesn't mean he gets a pass for his shameless game of cat and mouse with the truth. I will learn what I can and offer the unrequested service of correcting these mistaken notions when I hear them. I will be forthright but I'm no Popeye. I will be gentle.

I will expect the president to carry the water to the finish line. On this day, the day after, he has already begun. It's good to have him back. Mr President, a can of spinach at breakfast might be a good idea, just in case.

And most important, I will remind myself over and over that disappointment fades and today is a new day.

Death and Diplomacy in the Grip of Politics

This morning I was up and about in my house in the early hours as I often am, passing my interest between the morning newspaper that flopped onto my driveway about 4am, one of the half dozen books that are laying around vying for my attention, and the cable news stations that suddenly turned from fluff to substance.

The American ambassador to Libya and three members of the diplomatic staff had been killed in a brutal attack that appeared to be targeted and likely timed to coincide with memorialization of the 9/11 terrorist attacks. Within hours the name and sterling reputation of the ambassador, J. Christopher Stevens, was being transmitted around the world. Suddenly everything changed in a flash, something we see all too often these days. If you like stability you're living in the wrong century.

I am writing this just a few hours after the attack. I know nothing for sure. Some say it was stimulated by a video posted on the internet and deemed derogatory of the Prophet Muhammed, and thereby offensive to Muslims around the world. If so, it is a conflict between religion and free speech, a volatile crucible in the incendiary climate of the Middle East, not to mention the United States.

I don't pretend to have credentials to comment with any veracity on the religious and cultural issues of this sad and fearful day. In our country we look to those who have experience and knowledge to understand it, explain it, and then deal with it.

Secretary of State Hillary Clinton, in her role as the country's top diplomat, stepped forth within a few hours and gave an elegant and nuanced statement, mourning the dead, speaking thoughtfully to the sensitive issues, and standing firm against those who perpetrate such horrible deeds in the name of faith or country or mindless ideals.

But then cometh Mitt Romney. First, he fired an initial salvo in the middle of the night, launched before the deaths had been reported, laying the violent demonstrations in Syria, Egypt and Libya at the feet of President Obama's "failed foreign policy." He then held a news conference basically restating his initial bellicose inaccuracies. He ridiculed any effort on the part of the administration to understand or explain the complex issues of faith and freedom.

I thought we had an understanding in this country that political disagreements were set aside when issues of national security were on the line. Mr. Romney seeks to become leader of the free world. After bungling his Olympics tour by insulting our allies he now puts on galoshes and stumbles his way through the tulips, showing no sense of timing or reflection. It is shameful.

Mr. Romney asks Americans to respect his Mormon faith, something many people find odd, embarrassing, and antiquarian. I completely support his request as fair and consistent with American values. Now it is time for this man to show that he can honor in others what he asks for himself.

Memories of Hope in My Junk Mail

The other day I opened my mailbox and found only one piece of mail--a letter from George McGovern, the Democratic candidate for president in 1972. I chuckled, wondering how my life had come to this. It was 40 years ago that McGovern burrowed into my soul with his quixotic campaign to end the war in Vietnam and embrace principles of social justice cherished by college students like myself. And now here he is again, and in my mailbox no less.

Lest you be unduly impressed that I should be receiving a letter from George McGovern, I must quickly acknowledge that it was only a mass mailing encouraging folks to give money to Democratic and social justice causes.

I can remember a time when I thought it would be cool to be wanted only for my money. Now the worst has happened--I have no money but there are computers out there that think I do, and those computers are connected to devices that call me every day, send me emails every day, and mail me letters every day. I don't think he licked the stamp, but the letter from McGovern was of that type.

I am willing to be forgiving of George, however, because there was a time when he embodied things I deeply believed and he gave me hope that a peaceful world was within view. The letter in my mailbox made me mostly sad, awash as we are in perhaps the worst election tactics in many years, arguably ever. It does not seem that we have come much closer to those dreams we dared dream.

For those reading this who don't know much about the election of 1972, this Wikipedia link is a pretty good overview. What follows here is a brief summary of what it was all about, followed by a brief summary of why I care and why the envelope in my mailbox was a kind of postal epiphany for me.

Why Everyone Should Care: The election of 1972 must be traced to Southeast Asia where communist incursions in the 1950's began to make it a battleground for America's Cold War foreign policy to stop the spread of communism around the world. By the 1960's American escalation of an unwinnable guerilla war in Vietnam was sapping the country's resources, killed over 58,000 U.S. soldiers, and left the country rioting in the streets. The incumbent president, Richard M. Nixon, had campaigned in 1968 with the pledge that he had a secret plan to end the war.

Four years later, with no reasonable plan in view, Senator George McGovern, a soft-spoken history professor from South Dakota, took advantage of new populist rules forged during the tumultuous 1968 Democratic Convention, and an enthusiastic coalition of college students, traditional liberals, and ethnic minorities, to capture the nomination. His election campaign was plagued with missteps, lack of enthusiasm on the part of the traditional Democratic base, and a well-oiled Nixon reelection effort that managed to dispel allegations of ethical misconduct. Two years later that would bring Nixon down in the swirl of scandals usually collected under the term "Watergate."

But it was too late for McGovern. He was thumped with the worst loss in American history, winning only the state of Massachusetts and the District of Columbia. We all should care, even today, why that happened.

Why I Still Care:  In 1968 I cast my first vote for president of the United States, having become a naturalized U.S. citizen just three years before. I was a student in a small sectarian college in southern Iowa, not particularly sophisticated in politics or history, and an opponent of the war to the extent one can oppose war in small colleges in southern Iowa. I had thought it through and voted for Richard Nixon and his secret plan to win the war in Vietnam. 

My bad. 

I had to wait four years to do penance but then, married and in seminary, I engaged for the first time in grass roots American politics. We met in small groups, organizing to take over the caucuses used by local politicians to control the presidential nominating process. We bushwhacked our caucus by flooding it with new activists and taking control from the establishment politicos for whom this gathering had always been perfunctory. We swarmed Kansas City's Union Station late into the evening when McGovern's whistle stop campaign train stopped for a brief rally. We handed out brochures, made phone calls, talked to our friends and family, and felt connected to the democratic process. It was exhilarating. 

Then, on the night of November 7, 1972, we watched our television screens with dismay as our youthful dreams were swept away in an avalanche of votes across the nation. We all should care, even today, why that happened.

When I opened my mailbox this past week to find only George McGovern's request for funds I was struck by how it seemed like a metaphor for our time. The political process that seemed so inclusive and invigorating is now overcome with deserving cynicism. The belief that our voice and votes matter is riddled with scorn by those who now, aided by a shameful Supreme Court decision, use their mind-boggling wealth to buy elections from right under our feet. Many people understandably ask, "What's the point?". And now, refusing to learn the lessons of history, we wage unjustified, unfunded, and unbridled wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. There are a host of things--ethnicity, poverty, women's issues, misguided budget priorities, among others--that still feel burdensome all these years later.

I'm glad George McGovern dropped me a note. It reminded me of when I was young and dreaming big dreams. In retrospect, despite that thrashing at the polls, we have seen that he was mostly right back in 1972. Knowing that helps.

But it's not enough.