Overdue

 Close you eyes and imagine:

You're nine years old. Remember? School is almost over and the summer is here. You are looking forward to riding your bike to friends houses, water balloon fights, the ice cream truck. Probably trips with your family, maybe to another state or country. You might be less excited about those, but you'll still have fun. Adventures.

You're half-focused on your teacher, but mostly gazing out the window, where the sun is shining and adventure beckons. Your classmates are at varying levels of concentration-look around, see them looking at the teacher, staring at the clock, surreptitiously putting their things into backpacks so they can dash out the door as soon as the bell rings, into the sunlight. Into adventures.

Do you remember being 9? Did you like your teacher? How about your classmates? 

Fear. Gun. Help. 

Nothing.

Remember?

This has been swimming in my head for days. I had to get it out.
 
How do I tell my four and half year-old about this? My beautiful, wished for rainbow baby. My only child. How HOW do I explain to her that this happens and the adults DO ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO STOP IT? How do I explain to her the precious Second Amendment is more important to too many people than her life? 

Please tell me. Because I don't know how. 

Survivor's Guilt

 I carry guilt around every day, guilt for two big reasons: my health and my faith.

 I was diagnosed in January 2020 at the world-renowned Mayo Clinic after having my first known stroke sometime in March 2019. I had my first surgery during a global pandemic at St. Mary's Hospital in Rochester on March 26, 2021. So that's about 2 years from symptoms to surgery. I am very lucky, because I have decent insurance and a supportive (financially, logistically, emotionally) family. I am having another surgery on September 29, 2021. Again, lucky.

Moyamoya is not a common disease, but I do have a friend who was diagnosed 6 months before I was. They struggled for years to get a diagnosis, having strokes and seizures the whole time. They have not yet scheduled any kind of surgery as the disease continues to progress and they continue to have strokes. 

I feel tremendously guilty that my friend hasn't had the luck that I've had. I'm not more worthy than they are. In no way am I more deserving of life-saving treatment than anyone else. I'm resentful that the system that mostly works for me has failed them. I feel powerless to help. 

I was born on a Monday. Six days later on the following Sunday my parents took me to church. I grew up knowing and believing that God loved me, just as my parents loved me. Sin was not something I remember worrying about. Hell was mentioned every week in the Apostle's Creed, but it was not a focus. At church, I was never told that I was going to hell. We were all sinners, saved by the grace of Jesus Christ and the love of God. I was never told that people who don't believe the same things as me were going to hell. I was never shamed because of my body. I was never shamed because of who I spent time with. As a cisgender straight woman, I was never shamed for who I loved, but nor did anyone ever say that homosexuality was wrong at my church. I never heard "hate the sin, love the sinner." When a classmate killed himself, I never thought or was told that they were suffering in hell. My church has not covered up a system of perpetuating abuse for decades. We allow and encourage women, men, queer, lesbian, gay, bisexual, black, brown, and/or white people to become pastors and church leaders.

My faith as never betrayed me. I am proud today to belong to and work for a church that is welcoming of all. I have never felt as though everything I learned in Sunday School was a lie. I have never felt damaged by what I learned at my church.

I feel a terrible, unreasonable guilt that not everyone has had such a positive experience in their faith. I want to share that church and God can be loving, nurturing, guiding presences in our lives. I don't want to minimize anyone's pain. All I can do is listen share, and welcome. 

Advantage

I've been ruminating on privilege, or advantage if you prefer, for a few years now. I have lots of it. I wrote the following in 2017, and some things have changed. I now have a progressive, invisible illness which has affected my ability to function. I have a child, a beautiful, clever mighty girl. I want to be a better mom to her. That means knowing what advantages I've had, and making sure she grows up aware of them as well. Aware of the dangers and inequalities that others face every day. Aware she can change the future.

The fact is that I am very privileged. Also fact is that I am not better than anyone else. I did not do anything to earn most of my privileges.
I was raised in an upper middle class home. I’m of exclusively Western European descent, very WASP-y. My parents will celebrate their 48th wedding anniversary next August. Between them, they have 5 college degrees. They waited 14 years to have children because they felt that they weren’t financially stable enough to support children. As a result, I grew up without the fear that we didn’t have enough money for food or bills. It never occurred to me. I have always known that they love my brother and me. We were never mistreated or abused by our parents. I have always had health care, through my parents and through my husband. My only chronic health condition is clinical depression, which was diagnosed 20 years ago and has been reasonably controlled with medication for the last 15 years. For me, it is truly a chemical imbalance (triggered by puberty? who knows) in my brain that means I will most likely be taking my medication for the rest of my life. I had the HPV vaccine before I became sexually active. I have always had access to excellent health care. When I had a miscarriage at 5 weeks, I had care. When I found out I was carrying a blighted ovum (a fertilized egg with no genetic material), I had options, and miscarried at 11 weeks without intervention. I was not forced to have a funeral for the tissue that would never have become a baby.
I have traveled to 35 states, 1 US territory, and 9 countries on 4 continents, mostly with my family. Both of my parents have traveled to all 50 states. Travel is valued as a form of education in my family, and when I had opportunities through school or church, my parents paid for my travel, or let me use my “college” fund.
I have no student debt because my parents were willing and able to pay for my three years of college.
I’m straight and cisgender, very happily married to my husband of 8 years. I have never questioned my gender identity or sexuality.
I have never been the victim of sexual assault, nor have I ever to my knowledge witnessed a sexual assault. I find it horrible that this is one of my privileges. Everyone should be so privileged.
I have extraordinary privilege. I did nothing to deserve my parents, I am just lucky enough to be their child. I did nothing to be straight and cisgender, I am just lucky that my genetic makeup is what it is. Similarly, I did nothing to have this skin color. It does NOT make me inherently better or smarter or more worthy. It is simply evidence that my ancestors lived somewhere that had limited sunlight. They evolved light skin so to better absorb vitamin D. (Why yes, I was an anthropology major for two years, how did you know?)
My point is that I try to be aware of my privileges, and to acknowledge that I’m not really anything special because of them. I’m not special because I’m white, any more than I’m special because I have Type A + blood. This does not dismiss hard work and effort, but we all have advantages in this world, whether or not we recognize them. Some of us have more than others due to tradition, societal norms and expectations, racism, sexism, and other biases. It is often too easy for us to assume that our experiences are the norm, because that’s human nature. It is the challenge to step outside that norm, and examine and compare our experiences that is so important. Just because I have not experienced sexual assault doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. Just because I have not experienced racism doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. Just because I have never questioned my gender and sexuality doesn’t mean that others haven’t.
Please think about your life, and your privileges. They are real. We all have them. Most of them are things we have no control over, or that we didn’t work for. That means that if you are not privileged in one of the ways that I am, you did NOTHING to earn or deserve that lack or privilege. YOU HAVE DONE NOTHING TO DESERVE OR EARN RACISM, SEXISM, OR ANY DISCRIMINATION. Nothing.

30 Days of Music

I've gotten so far behind on the 30 Day Song Challenge that I'm just going to post all of them here at once.
Day 1, a song you like with a color in the title
Blue Jeans Blues by ZZ Top; Pynk by Janelle Monae; Back to Black by Amy Winehouse; Afro-Blue by John Coltrane
Day 2, a song you like with a number in the title
20 Years of B.B. King by Curtis Salgado; 1234 by Feist; 6 Inch by Beyoncé ft. the Weeknd
Day 3, a song that reminds you of summertime
Fly by Sugar Ray; Take Me Out by Franz Ferdinand; Pink Moon by Nick Drake
Day 4, a song that reminds you of someone you'd rather forget
Blurred Lines by Robin Thicke. I think we’d all like to forget him.
Day 5, a song that needs to be played loud
Know Your Rights by The Clash, 1812 Overture by Tchaikovsky, Take Five by the Dave Brubeck Quartet
Day 6, a song that makes you want to dance
Now That We Found Love by Heavy D and the Boyz, Canned Heat by Jamiroquai, Jique by Brazilian Girls; 24K Magic by Bruno Mars
Day 7, a song to drive to
Wonderboy by Tenacious D; I’m Gonna Be the Proclaimers
Day 8, a song about drugs and alcohol
Alcohol is Free by Koza Mostra; Alcohol by Barenaked Ladies; Golden Brown by The Stranglers
Day 9, a song that makes you happy
Caroban by Nina; The Hamilton Polka by Weird Al; Fried Neckbones and Some Home Fries by Willie Bobo; Feeling Good by Nina Simone
Day 10, a song that makes you sad
Strange Fruit by Billie Holiday; Changes by Phil Ochs; Glad to Be Unhappy by Billie Holiday
Day 11, a song you never get tired of
I very rarely get tired of songs I like. I stop listening for awhile and then I discover the song again. But anything by Queen, or the Lemonade album by Beyoncé. Heaven.
Day 12, a song from your preteen years
I listened to oldies as a preteen. Lover’s Concerto by the Toys; Up on the Roof by the Drifters; Just My Imagination by the Temptations
Day 13, a song you like from the 70's
A Song for You by Donny Hathaway; Immigrant Song by Led Zeppelin; Rock Lobster by the B-52s
Day 14, a song you'd love to be played at your wedding
Well, I wanted The Way I Am by Ingrid Michaelson and Andy wanted You've Made Me So Very Happy by Blood, Sweat & Tears
Day 15, a song you like that's a cover by another artist
A Case of You by James Blake; These Days by Nico; I Will Always Love You by Pam Hall; Hey Jude by Wilson Pickett; Que Sera Sera by Sly & the Family Stone
Day 16, a song that's a classic favorite
Into the Mystic by Van Morrison; Danse Macabre by Camille Saint-Saens
Day 17, a song you'd sing a duet with someone on karaoke
More Than Words by Extreme; The Boy Is Mine by Brandy & Monica (I'll be Monica)
Day 18, a song from the year you were born
Sweet Dreams by the Eurythmics was #1 the day I was born
Day 19, a song that makes you think about life
Devil's Pie by D'Angelo; There by For Fortune by Phil Ochs; I've Seen It All by Björk
Day 20, a song that has many meanings for you
you should see me in a crown by Billie Eilish; Everything Is Everything by Lauryn Hill
Day 21, a song you like with a person's name in the title
Adam's Song by Blink-182; Clint Eastwood by Gorillaz; Ave Maria by Christina England
Day 22, a song that moves you forward
32 Flavors by Alana Davis; A Change Is Gonna Come by Sam Cooke
Day 23, a song you think everybody should listen to
Three Little Birds by Bob Marley; Lift Every Voice and Sing by Laval Belle; Power and Glory by Phil Ochs
Day 24, a song by a band you wish were still together
Puttin' Shame in Your Game by Beastie Boys; If You Want Me to Stay by Sly & the Family Stone; Would? by Alice in Chains
Day 25, a song you like by an artist no longer living 
Let's Dance by David Bowie; Rock Steady by Aretha Franklin; Cinderella Ballet by Sergei Prokofiev; Northern Sky by Nick Drake
Day 26, a song that makes you want to fall in love
I Want Love by Elton John; Kedvesem by ByeAlex
Day 27, a song that breaks your heart
Wiegala by Ilse Weber (written for her son at Thereseienstadt concentration camp to comfort him); The Man That Got Away by Judy Garland
Day 28, a song by an artist whose voice you love
Lonlon by Angelique Kidjo; Glory by Common & John Legend; Yesterdays by Billie Holidays; The Boogie Man Song by Mos Def
Day 29, a song you remember from your childhood
Leatherwing Bat by Peter, Paul, & Mary; Road to Morocco by Bing Crosby & Bob Hope
Day 30, a song that reminds you of yourself
Darkness by Leonard Cohen; Floetic by Floetry; Fly Away by Lenny Kravitz; Rhythm Nation by Janet Jackson; Whale and Wasp by Alice in Chains

No, it's not a lynching.

I am appalled by the ignorance of our president. I am appalled that he believes that comparing his experience being under inquiry for impeachment can possibly compare to what black men, women, and children have experienced in this country. This country, within living memory. Here’s his tweet:

So Republicans, you might wonder, are we witnessing a lynching? Sit down, I’ll tell you what to look for. If you'd rather see for yourselves, here https://www.gettyimages.ie/photos/lynching?mediatype=photography&phrase=lynching&sort=mostpopular

Lynching is a hate crime, a method of economic control, a voter suppression tool. It is a form of population control: lynch one black man dozens of black families will flee. It is a tool used to maintain white supremacy.

Sometimes a crime has been committed. A thief has stolen something, a woman has been raped.

Sometimes the crime is a social one, meaning a grocery store owned by a black man is making more money than a grocery store owned by a white man nearby. Sometimes a black man or boy is supposed to have insulted or looked funny at a white woman or girl. No matter what, all white folk can agree that someone needs to be punished.

Sometimes there is an arrest. Sometimes there is a trial. The police, lawyers, judges, and juries are white. The accused is not. The accused is “other,” an animal, a beast, a savage. That is how the mob justifies its crimes. And that mob is made up of fathers, brothers, mothers, sisters. Children. Teachers, electricians, farmers, mechanics. Neighbors. Church members. Individuals.

The mob feels that justice has not been done. The savage beast has not been adequately punished, whatever the verdict of the trial. So they take justice upon themselves, a become judge, jury, and executioner.

The accused (or someone else who looks similar; the mob isn’t picky) will be shot. He will be drenched in oil and set on fire (alive). She will be lynched, meaning hanged by a rope from the neck until dead. While hanging there, he may be set on fire. Their hands, ears, eyes, breasts, penis, vagina, anus, will be cut off, removed, and mutilated. Pregnant women are not spared. He will be tortured. 

The mob will cheer. The mob will take photographs which will be sold as postcards. The mob will take souvenirs: clothing, bits of the rope, pieces of bone, charred flesh.

The mob will take his freedom, her dignity, their future, their lives.

This is our history. This is our country.

But some of them were guilty. Some of them were Italian, or Jewish, or Latino, or Chinese. They were still denied justice and murdered.

It happened in Georgia, Alabama, Florida, Mississippi, Louisiana. Minnesota, Nebraska, Arizona, Illinois, Michigan, Maryland, Delaware, New Jersey.

Ask yourself, is this what I’m seeing? Do you need more help identifying what the president is claiming?
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lynching_of_Thomas_Shipp_and_Abram_Smith
They were accused of robbery and murder.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lynching_of_Jesse_Washington
He was accused of raping and murdering a white woman.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emmett_Till
He was accused of whistling at a white woman.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lynching_of_Anthony_Crawford
He was accused of offensive language.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lynching_of_Laura_and_L._D._Nelson
A mother and son, they were accused of murder.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Murder_of_James_Byrd_Jr.
He was black. In 1998.

I am not an expert. Further reading is encouraged. We are all indebted to Ida B. Wells, the Tuskegee Institute, and the other brave men and women who documented these crimes.
http://www.monroeworktoday.org/explore/

Whole lot of shakin' goin' on...

Ah, the excitement of living in Alaska.
I was asleep and woke up to the bed shaking violently. My first thought was my 15 month-old in the next room, then thinking it was probably a good thing that we never got around to hanging the framed Brambly Hedge canvas above her crib.
I went to get up and saw my husband with our daughter in the doorway. We went through our morning routine amid aftershocks, getting E her bottle of milk and sitting in her room. E was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed despite waking up about two hours early. My first call was to my parents, who live two blocks away. At their house, a couple glass angels broke, a wineglass, and a Galileo's thermometer. My parents are geologists, so I knew they were fine. In fact as soon as my father heard the epicenter was north, he correctly guessed that the quake occurred on the Castle Mountain fault. In case you ever wondered, "What do geologists do during earthquakes?" the answer is count the seconds, and try to distinguish between s-waves and p-waves. Then refresh the USGS earthquake site (which they already have bookmarked just for fun) as the aftershocks happen. There was one aftershock whose epicenter was 0.0 km away from us. 😶
Andy and I were texting out of state family and friends, and checking on family and friends in town. We assured everyone that we were fine, that E wasn't really bothered by any of it. She was laying down during an aftershock, and her eyes got a bit wide. Otherwise, she barely paused playing.
We got a tsunami warning, which we ignored. We do live close to the coast, but we live on the north part of Turnagain Arm. Any tsunami would be slowed by going around that curve, so our tsunami danger is minimal. A wave similar to the one in Lituya Bay in 1958 would be dangerous for us, but not likely.
 Andy showed me a picture of the northbound on-ramp at Minnesota, and my first reaction was to scoff at the fake picture. That kind of damage happened during the 1964 quake, we grew up seeing pictures like that, but it hadn't happened in Anchorage since then. And yet, it was real. Driving home through the airport last night I saw a sidewalk that had cracked and buckled. It's real.
It has slowly occurred to me how historic and significant this earthquake was. We have been so lucky. My house is standing, undamaged. We never lost power, and experienced no gas or water leaks. The only two items that broke were a ceramic gnome and a plastic finger brush. This wasn't the largest magnitude earthquake I've experienced. I remember the 2002 Denali quake, which was 7.9 m.
Earthquakes of this magnitude kill people and destroy buildings in other cities. The 1994 Northridge  (California) earthquake had a 6.7 m, and 57 people died. Hundreds, even thousands are killed in earthquakes in other countries. It's humbling, and sad.
Now, to get political, strong building codes put in place after the 1964 earthquake helped prevent worse damage. Realistically not trusting contractors to build future buildings to be earthquake safe since that takes more time and money, the city of Anchorage apparently has an extensive permit review process. Buildings are required to be built to withstand shaking. Sometimes big government does save lives. With things like homes, medicine, and food, trusting vendors is naive and dangerous.

10 Songs: Jazz

Billie Holiday helped me through my teenage years. When I listened to Lady Day sing, it was an expression of all the sadness I was feeling. She introduced me to jazz.
I didn't really start exploring jazz and blues until I was in my third year of college, when and friend and I volunteered to host a radio show on our local NPR station. Well, the friend was too busy to host with me, so I was slightly adrift. Luckily the station had an excellent jazz library to explore. I figured out what I like (soulful vocals, nimble instrumentals) and don't like (experimental and jam band nonsense).
These are the versions of these songs that I like.

1. "Glad to Be Unhappy" by Billie Holiday
There are so many Billie Holiday songs that I love. I love her voice, the tremors, the tone, everything. Just listening to her sing can make me cry like (almost) no other. This song is from her last studio album, Lady in Satin, released in 1958. I read a review once that described it as over-orchestrated, and I can see the point, but I disagree. The star here is that voice, no longer anywhere near its prime but beautiful. In the bonus tracks, you can hear her slurring, pretty clearly not sober. I love the album anyway, maybe because of the imperfections. It's real and harsh and sad, just as I felt life was like when I first listened. "Glad to Be Unhappy" is how I feel when I'm depressed. I'm overall happy, life is good. But there are days when I feel like nothing is going right and nothing ever will. That's when I pull out this song and this album.

2. "Feeling Good" by Nina Simone
First time I heard this song was in a TV spot for "Six Feet Under"-the main characters lip synced the opening lines, and I was hooked. It's so sly and honest the way Nina sings it, and she sings the hell out of it. She's the other singer who can make me cry with her voice (her version of "Ne Me Quitte Pas" gets me every time). This song is rejoicing, but it's not cheerful and I love it.

3. "Take Five" by the Dave Brubeck Quartet
Obviously. This song knocks you a bit off-kilter with Dave Brubeck's quintuple timing, then makes you swing with the Paul Desmond's sax. By the time you get to Joe Morello's drum solo, you're in the music and you don't want to leave. It's different for the sake of being different, for the sake of trying something new and seeing if it works. It really does. It's the epitome of cool jazz. Today we'd probably call it hipster jazz. Ugh.

4. "Mack the Knife" by Ella Fitzgerald (Live in Berlin)
What a performer! Spoiler: she forgets the words about halfway through and starts to make them up without missing a single beat. In case you've ever wondered why Ella Fitz was great, listen to this song. She's not my favorite; I find her voice too sunny. There's no denying her incredible talent, and I adore this song.

5. "St. James Infirmary" by Hugh Laurie
This is one of my all time favorite songs. I'm having trouble finding the right words to describe it. You might just have to listen for yourself. All I know is that it makes me ridiculously happy. And yes, Hugh Laurie the actor. He's a good actor and a great musician.

6. "Trumbology" by Bix Beiderbecke and Frankie Trumbauer
True story: when I first started the radio show, I was exploring the station's jazz library and asked my Dad for suggestions. He mentioned "Big Spiderbeck." I don't remember how long it took me to realize he said Bix Beiderbecke. Longer than I'm proud of, to be sure.

7. "Fables of Faubus" by Charles Mingus
Another sly song, it was written with lyrics. I've never heard with those lyrics because the label refused to release the original version. It was recorded and released a year later under a different label. Charles Mingus, one of the greatest musicians ever, wrote it about Governor Orval Faubus, the man who sent the National Guard to prevent the desegregation of Little Rock schools in 1957. The lyrics are scathing and unfortunately relevant.
I love this song for the music, for the sly, relentless rhythm that lulls you, not to sleep, but to action.

8. "Sugar Rum Cherry" by Duke Ellington
This is a jazz version of the Sugar Plum Fairy from the Nutcracker Suite by Tchaikovsky. Listening to it makes one want to smile knowingly. It does not hurry, it meanders its way through the tune. This whole album is great, and I love the concept.

9. "Fever" by Peggy Lee
I love Peggy Lee, and this song is the first that I felt comfortable singing in front of people. Peggy had a lower voice than most singers, and that made it easier for me to learn. It's a classic for a reason, and it's fun.

10. "Stardust" by Ben Webster
Before we knew my daughter's gender, we called her Panda Stardust; at the first ultrasound, my husband compared her to a baby panda, and I was always going to call her Stardust. All of us are made of stardust, with magic and love and music. This song feels like a lullaby to me, a lovely, comforting drift in safe arms.