Power Corrupts and the Message is Lost

Turns out John Edwards is a phony, a sleaze, a stereotypical politician. From a clinical view it is sadly interesting that this man: the self-professed son of a mill worker, the first in his family to go to college, the postcard of the American Dream, could dash it all on the rocks of power and greed.

At some level he must have really hated himself or feared what he was becoming. Maybe for about a millisecond. But then the money and the authority and the power just kept rolling, rolling, rolling.

Maybe he's just got Antisocial Personality Disorder. You know, the whole "lack of conscience" problem.

In the final analysis, though, it doesn't much matter. His message, which was important and relevant, that our nation is divided into two Americas, and that those that have much need to help those that have little, is now lost in the sleazy tabloid headlines with a not-very-pretty 1980's cocaine chicky and her love-child.

I'm not re-writing history when I say that each time I waited in line at MSU (three times) and again at Fassnight Park to listen to Edwards speak, and each time I wrote checks to his campaign, a teeny tiny part of me wondered if this wasn't just a bit too good to be true. But I so wanted him to be for real that I pushed it back and cheered him on. I even dragged the Young One to his speeches and let him shake Edward's hand.

Now when I watch this play out on the news, I just feel sick. I wish I could get those pitiful little donations back. I wish I could scrub the Young One's hand, and apologize for taking away his afternoons of playtime to spend listening to someone who was creating a web of deceit and betrayal.

John Edwards did have some important things to say. Those words and messages are lost now, and that's the worst tragedy of this whole mess.

thinking things outloud

I need to start blogging again.

I say that to myself almost everyday--usually when I'm trying to condense a thought into something short enough to fit into a "facebook" status, or when I'm feeling especially opinionated.

This mental list of things I need to do, of which the "need to blog" is a teeny tiny part, has gotten to a point where it is paralyzing. Perhaps that is the ultimate method of procrastination, I don't know. I do know that I've got to push through it or drown. So I'd doing what Morita would suggest: Feel your feelings, know your purpose, do what needs to be done. http://www.todoinstitute.org/constructiveliving.html (Once I get in the habit of this, I'll be able to make that a link. Soon, soon.)

In a moment what needs doing, for better or worse, is to push the publish button and begin to think things out loud and on purpose again.

Here goes...

Hey, this site just saved me 17 cents!

Go here: gas edge to find out if its worth it to drive a little further for gas that's a few pennies cheaper per gallon.

In my case turns out it would have cost me about 17 cents to "save" the extra .03 cents a gallon to drive a few miles out of the way for a cheaper pump price.

Every penny counts these days.

Behavior Support starts in your own backyard

I've been too swamped with work to post until I witnessed this craziness at a conference in Columbia yesterday. It was too rich to pass up.

Picture this:

A packed hotel conference room full of school administrators. That's fancy talk for Principals, Assistant Principals, Superintendents and the like. You know, the people teachers and students alike will walk down different halls to avoid, the ones who sometimes wield their power with wooden paddles drilled with holes. The authority figures, the check-signers, the deciders. Yeah, yeah, surely the vast majority are like Morgan Freeman in some 1980's movie where he saves the gang-ridden school from a horrid fate, but play along with me here, kids.

The speaker was a honcho, a muckety-muck and frankly, the real deal. He had flown in from Oregon, and is someone who is well-respected, frequently published, and clearly had gone to some trouble to speak to this huge crowd.

I'm in the back row, so I can see the crowd and the Expert.

Which means I can also see the three different people who are openly READING THE NEWSPAPER, cover to cover, while the Expert talks. When one woman finishes the sports page, she opens her laptop, connects to the hotel's wireless connection and begins shopping for a new cell phone.

They're not even trying to hold the newspapers on their laps. They hold them open, full page up, leisurely turning page after page, occasionally glancing at the speaker, and sipping from their coffee cups.

Do you think they would tolerate this rude behavior from their students?

I wish the speaker would have stopped his talk and sent them out.

I wish I would have had the courage of my convictions to have told them to go to the lobby to read and surf the net.

I wish I could tell you positively that a couple of them sported name tags from Lebanon Schools, but I'm only 85% sure.

More than anything I wish I'd only dreamed this horrible behavior.

Oh yeah--the topic of the conference? Missouri Schoolwide Positive Behavior Support.

Administrator--heal thyself.

A Tennessee Williams Kind of Day

I have always depended on the kindness of strangers

After writing many blog posts describing sad situations, and after allowing my sadness to overwhelm me to a point that I just wanted to hide in the woods, I was reminded yesterday that it is truly through the kindnesses of others--sometimes the kindnesses of strangers-- that we see the love of God.

I am humbled and awed by the power of Kindness.

I vow to pass it on.

"What one heart cannot bear alone, a hundred loving hearts can bear with faith"

Earth to Parents...

This sign now graces the door at the office where I work.

It is a sad situation when adults have to be reminded not let doors slam into their children.

However, so many parents needed to be told to hold the doors for their kids that the receptionist finally just put up a sign.

Stress and fear can cause people to forget to look outside themselves. There are many other causes of selfishness, though, some of them not so understandable.

Everyone has a battle to fight, I get that. But even if it is just about making sure doors don't slam in their faces--literally or figuratively--children need our protection. These days, I think we all need a little kindness--and an open door is a pretty nice place to start.

Leaning on the lamp post

The Herman's Hermits were one of my favorite pop music groups as a kid. I remember going with my bff "hilba" to the Continental Theater in T-town where we'd munch on chocolate Flicks candy and watch those cute British boys' movies. The velvet seats and curtains looked pristine in the half light, and the summers seemed to last forever. It was an innocent time, and the music was a perfect score.

Now, though, thinking of hermits makes me think less of "Hen-er-y-the-Eighth-I-Am" and more of how much I'd like to be one. A hermit--not Henry the 8th. I'm so very tired of being disappointed in people. I'm tired of rudeness and I'm tired of haters. I don't want to have to crank up my iPod in the grocery store to drown out parents screaming at their children to "shut up" or bribing them with candy if they'll just sit down. I'm sick of switching news channels just to hear more "experts" yelling at each other, as if the pitch of their rants proves the validity of their argument. I don't want to think that my own city government was threatening to sue another city councilman because he questioned a decision.

A presidential candidate refers to his wife with the C-word? Oh please just give me a shack in the mountains. People say someone diagnosed with cancer "deserves" it because his political views differ from theirs? I just want to be off the grid, please. I don't think Mr. Twitty will miss me. A child tells me his mother says he's "worthless" because he forgot to take the bus home? Please let me stay in a corner somewhere.

Maybe the Herman's Hermit's line about "leaning on the lamp post" was right in one sense. It isn't "in case a certain little lady walks by" though, it's because I've got to keep myself upright. If I can't be a hermit, then I've got to keep fighting the fight. I'm raising a child in this world, and I'll be damned if I'm just going to sit back and let it be the sort of place where the mean spiritedness that seems so prevalent is acceptable. Someway, somehow, the pendulum must swing to a place where people think before they speak. And where thoughtfulness and consideration are expected, appreciated and acknowledged.

...second verse same as the first...