When I grow up.......

This is a running list of things I plan NOT to do when and if I get pregnant:

-I will not complain that chivalry is dead because no one on the train will give up their seat for me when I'm eight months along. Yeah it sucks. But I already know chivalry is taking its last gasps, ESPECIALLY in NYC. This might not have happened if the stupid feminist movement, in which all women, like it or not, gave up their right to be treated like a fucking lady, had not taken place. Equal rights is cool, but militant women burning bras is not. Fact is, we still have tits. They were not given to us by a man to further subjugate the meek.

-I will not assume that strangers will carry my stroller up and down the stairs at the subway station.

-I will not use my kids stroller to a) carry groceries while the kid walks, or b) to make everyone get the hell out of my way (tempting as that is).

-I will not be oblivious to my surroundings and not hurt people with my stroller or sit around looking stupid while my kid yells at the top of his lungs for no reason on a crowded train. Speaking of the subway, I promise to use a snuggly thing to carry the kid around as much as I can. The MTA doesn't allow stollers on the trains that are not folded up. They just turn the other cheek to be all PC towards mothers. That doesn't mean the rule doesn't make sense and should not be followed.

-I will not subject the general public to my mothering ways, or lack thereof.

-I will not breastfeed in public. Since I wouldn't normally walk around topless, I'm not going to use my kid to justify my doing so. If a bare boob is not acceptable in public, a bare boob with a kid attached to it should not be acceptable either.

-I will not neglect to discipline my child. Newsflash, mommies of today: this is the big issue everyone has with you ladies. Your kids scream and yell and carry on, having fits at every turn, because you are too squeamish to do your job as a parent. You should really learn to be a parent before you become one.

Veteran's Day

What is this about "Let's thank the veterans because we wouldn't be able to live peaceful lives without them," blah blah blah? This is completely valid for the veterans of the Revolutionary War, the Civil War, most wars up until Vietnam, because that's when the US started going to war for stupid reasons. So instead of thanking the veterans, I want to tell them that I am so sorry for the time they've wasted fighting unwinnable wars so that some politician can escape feeling like a failure for losing (this is why Johnson didn't pull troops out of Vietnam). I want to tell them that they're fighting for a country that will never welcome them home properly. They will not be fully compensated for their efforts. They will not be taken care of. This is the tragedy of it all, and the reason I can't celebrate Veteran's Day.

He dicho.

It Might Get Loud

When I was 10, I was given a 2-3% chance of survival.

Let me explain. I sustained a head injury, in which my cerebellum was damaged and started to bleed, and doctors performed an emergency operation to take half my cerebellum out and relieve the pressure on my brain. They told my parents that IF I survived, I would be a vegetable. IF I survived, I would be in the hospital for months.

I got out of the hospital in one month.

I am here. And I am writing this.

Over the next few months, I taught myself, with some help of course, to crawl and then walk, to speak clearly and to feed myself all over again. The anger I felt then and would feel for the next 4 years was unbearable. I kept thinking that I would rather have died, and I lived that way everyday. I hate to say, but my mother got the worst of it. And when she remarried not even a year after I left the hospital, I got even angrier. Stepfather did not help the situation at all. He only made it worse. I lashed out, I was violent. The more my mom and stepfather slapped me around to try to keep me in line, the more violent I became. My mother made me go to a shrink for it all, but it didn't help. It just made me feel worse, and I know it contributed to the bad feelings between me and my mom. There was no doctor-patient confidentiality. She knew everything I told the shrink and would sometimes say it back to me almost verbatim, as if she was trying to make me feel bad for saying it, so there was no point, because the purpose was to have someone to talk to that would be objective.

At 14, I got myself thrown out of the house. I was actually already packed to leave by the time the huge fight between me and my stepfather, and eventually my mother, even started. They took me to my dad's house, and that's where I stayed until college. I would not be here today if I had stayed with my mom and stepfather. I know that.

At school, I became good friends with this British kid. You know, the cooky, geeky kind who looked like Piggy from Lord of the Flies (or what I would imagine Piggy to look like) and wore shorts in the dead of winter. Anyway, one day he gave me the first 4 Led Zeppelin albums on cassette. I took them home and listened. That music was the first thing that made me happy in a long time. It sounds silly, but Robert, Jimmy, John and Bonzo brought me back to life. I don't know how to explain it exactly, but I concentrated on that music. I studied it. I loved it. I knew the timing of each and every one of Page's riffs and Plant's wails. It put positivity back into my life. There were songs that made me sad, but they were still hopeful, like the Rain Song or Ten Years Gone. They unplugged my insides so I could release all that anger and put other emotions in there and move ahead. They are lifelong favorites. Daddy saw my interest in this new music, and immediately took me out to the used record shop and bought me Jimi Hendrix's Smash Hits. Then we went home and he showed me the rest of his music collection, mostly jazz but a lot of classic rock - CCR, Allman Brothers, Canned Heat, old Elvis, the Beatles, Velvet Underground, The Who..... "I want you to take anything you want," he said, and sat by me and recommended things. Dad rescued me in so many ways, and that's why I am so attached to him. Rock does indeed say "Here I am, and fuck you if you can't understand me." I needed to hear that. I needed someone to tell me it was OK to feel that way.

This past weekend, I went to see It Might Get Loud, a documentary in which Page, The Edge and Jack White sit in a room and play each other's music and discuss the craft of playing guitar. They also each go over how they got started and what music is to them. It could have been 6 hours long, and I still would have sat through the whole thing, completely mesmerized. I remembered all the things Jimmy did for me that he doesn't even know about and most likely would have trouble understanding. He saved my life. Music saved my life, and it still does everyday. It holds my hand.

"These are the seasons of emotion and like the winds they rise and fall
This is the wonder of devotion - I seek the torch we all must hold.
This is the mystery of the quotient - Upon us all a little rain must fall...It's just a little rain..."

PS - Out of all my friends in the world, only one person will understand this post, and he was actually there for some of the story. Ranjiva - this post's for you.

Dear You

Dear You,

At first, I was sad to hear that you were leaving. But now, good riddance. For the record, my friendship with you was, for my part, true. My friends are my family. I respect them, honor them and try to make them smile as much as I possibly can. When I make friends, it is, at first anyway, for life. So to hear you refer to your friendship with me as "transient" makes me want to throw up. Transient? Are you fucking kidding me? I deserted you when you needed me? I left you? I made no attempt to contact you when the going got rough? Really? You need to rethink that statement: How many texts and other messages did I leave for you that went unanswered by your Highness? By the way, I never took that as you disregarding me. I just attributed your non-answer to you being busy with all the things you had on your plate. And I thought that at least you would get those messages and know that I cared. If you ever come back to this city, I'll make good on the transient thing and disappear from your life. As a matter of fact, I'll do that effective immediately.

Just so you are aware, there are just some things in life that people can't agree to for it would make them The Chump. But you went and did exactly what you wanted anyway, no matter who you hurt in the process of getting your kicks. And something tells me that you are not hurting at all. If you were, you wouldn't have rejected 95% of the people who DID love you for who you were, or at least who we thought you were. So spare us your sob stories. Some people might believe you, but we know better. You are full of shit.

I know I am supposed to keep my mouth shut, but if you ever bothered to notice things about me, you would know that keeping my mouth shut is not my strong suit.

And so, good night and good luck.

Sincerely,
Me.

RIP, Teddy Kennedy

It always makes me so happy and proud when I say something that my father agrees with. He is my source of validation, and the only one that really matters to me. I called him this morning to see how he was doing in light of last night's death of Senator Edward Kennedy. He hadn't even heard. When I broke the news, daddy kept saying how sorry he was, and for the first time in my life, I heard his voice tremble slightly. It became clear to me that Teddy was, like his brothers before him, one of America's great hopes. The way things are going nowadays, I believe he was our last, and consequently, today I feel the tears welling up every now and again as I read his obituaries.

I never really gave Teddy much thought until recently when I listened to his speech at the DNC. The 2009 HBO documentary taught me about his life's work, which was truly inspiring, mostly for the resilience with which he carried out that work. I was intrigued, albeit much too late. When they found a tumor in his brain last year, I knew he didn't have a lot of time left, and what little time there was would be rough. But as always, he came back. He wanted to be there for the 2008 DNC, and he was. He wanted to be there for Obama's inauguration, and he was. He witnessed some of the best times in history, hell, he MADE some of the best times in history. And even after experiencing times of profound grief, he always came back and stayed true to his commitment to continuing the work of his brothers and seeing to it that ALL Americans get their due.

Teddy fought for universal healthcare, and in 2006, the people of Massachusetts got it. He fought for an increase in the minimum wage, and in 2007, Congress raised it. He wasn't afraid to speak out, and in 2004, Teddy said, "Iraq is George Bush's Vietnam, and this country needs a new president." In 2008, he endorsed Obama and made that great speech in Denver: "And this November, the torch will be passed again to a new generation of Americans, so with Barack Obama and for you and for me, our country will be committed to his cause. The work begins anew. The hope rises again. And the dream lives on." And Barack won.

I suggested to daddy (and he thought I was right) that Bobby and Teddy were "the brains of the operation". John was the image with which to promote their product. Regardless, all three were, are, and will always be the embodiment of commitment to the common good, great ideas combined with hard work and an unmatched strength and resilience that they carried with them into every area of their public and private lives.

When I think of Teddy Kennedy and his fight for universal healthcare, I think of my dad. Daddy taught me a great deal of what I know now. He taught me to think and to question. He inspires me, regardless of his failures and faltering strength. While daddy's work was on a much smaller scale, the purpose was the same: to get people their due. Daddy's work was in Latin America, and one of his achievements that I'll never forget is when he found money in his organization's budget to provide sorely needed incubators for a hospital in rural Honduras. No one else bothered to look for that money or to lobby for it from the donors. But daddy left no stone unturned, and after that, everyone knew him as "the guy to get things done." He never accepted praise, and insisted he was just a simple man doing his job. And there is the parallel I draw between my father and Teddy: two men with a tremendous sense of humility, humanity and work ethic whose purpose was to make a difference.

Mention of Teddy Kennedy calls to mind the words with which he eulogized his brother Bobby*. I love hearing that speech because, towards the end, Teddy's voice trembles. You realize that nothing and no one is perfect, that everyone has emotions and are sometimes consumed by them. What always remains is hope. It's everything. Teddy held it in his hands.



* - "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."