A New Young Voice, Real Change

Corey Booker, mayor of Newark, New Jersey, is a new, true, blue blood on the scene. He's young. Articulate. Intelligent. Inspiring. And he's not talking about change. He's making it happen.

Get this: Since Booker took his oath as mayor not quite two years ago, Newark's murder rate has decreased 70 percent.

How did he accomplish this? He's involved. He not only invites the people to come talk to him, but he gets out in the trenches and talks to the people as well. He's more than willing to help, but he expects personal responsibility to be the driving force. This mayor pulls people over in traffic if he sees them throw litter out of the car - and he gives their litter right back to them. This 38-year-old Rhodes Scholar, Standford football star and Yale Law School grad, left his comfortable home in the burbs more than 10 years ago to live in a Newark project for 8 years. He left that project for a rental unit in a drug- and gang-plagued neighborhood on Newark's south side.

Corey Booker doesn't talk about problems. He knows the problems first hand and he tackles them in a manner you would expect of a football star. He works for one America - a united America - and inspires citizens to take accountability to create it.

Oh, yes. Corey Booker is a black man. A black man who says, "My father grew up in a very segregated world. I grew up in a very integrated world." (newsday.com article here.) How refreshing.

This snippet from an interview with Bill Moyers gives one hope for a better America:

"What we have to realize is we can get caught up as pundits sitting there talking about sound bites and race, which is so not helpful. Or we can say, 'Hey, black, white or whatever, let's change policy to react to the concerns that we have.' My passion, my life is not about trying to create justice for one group over another group. It's to understand that we are one nation. We are in this together. We're either gonna race together to the bottom or we're gonna rise together to the top."

(Give yourself an inspiring moment and watch the whole interview here.)

Corey Booker is a man with the heart of Martin Luther King Jr. How well I remember that horrible April 4th, forty years ago when Rev. King was assassinated. It seemed something terrible was taking hold of our country. I was a senior in high school, and we all mourned the loss of Rev. King (as a Catholic school student, I had attended school with blacks in the South long before it was mandated by law.) Corey Booker wasn't even born, but Martin Luther King Jr.'s dream is alive in his heart.

Too bad Corey isn't running for president. He's a reformer who could bring Americans together. Now that's a dream worthy of pursuing.

Funerals and Cat Fights

Funerals
Funerals always make me cry. Not for the deceased. They are in a better place (I believe to my very core that heaven and hell exist). I often imagine my mother skipping along in a heavenly garden, singing "His Eye is on the Sparrow," kicking up her heels, and reveling that she is finally in a place where everyone (and I do mean everyone) considers even her beloved weeds beautiful. Her memory is perfect. She remembers everything she wants to remember, things that bring her joy and make her laugh (my mom had a great laugh). All other things have passed away. There, my father has regained the strength and vigor that made him a hero, and he no longer has the pain (whether physical or emotional) that birthed shards of anger. There, he is the consummate communicator (my sister and brother will laugh at that image, for he was a quiet man!). No, funerals are not for the dead. They are for the living.

This morning I attended the funeral of a friend who leaves behind a devoted wife of 35 years, two daughters and four grandchildren. As I sat in the pew, I marveled at their strength. Even young Christian, less than a month past his 11th birtday, walked before his grandfather's casket in stoic silence, although, I imagine he wanted desperately to bring back the one man who has loved and guided him since birth.

The death of a loved one bears great responsibility. Jose's family must honor his life. Respect his memory. There is work to be done. It's work that helps the living understand that life does, in deed, continue. It gives them purpose and structure at a time when the world has turned upside down and keeps on turning. And those brief moments of embrace and expressed condolences and love give them strength to take the next step.

I cried for them because I know they have a great loss to deal with -- and it will be a difficult time. I cried because regardless of belief in life hereafter, the reality is that, in this world, Diana will never again know the sweet touch of Jose's hand stroking her face, or the smell of his aftershave on his clean shaven face, or the sound of his love whispers in her ear. I cried because when loved ones die, our world is incomplete while our humanity continues its cry for wholeness. I cried because it was an intimate moment in a friend's life when my presence made a difference. And I knew it.

My mother taught us it is important to celebrate moments that count in life. Sometimes those moments are small -- a good report card, a good medical report, a new season of the year. At others, those moments are the stuff of life: births of babies, baptisms, weddings, great anniversaries, and yes, funerals. My brother and sister and I try to celebrate those moments. We've learned that those moments are pregnant with life lessons everyone needs on this journey. So, if you have an opportunity to share a sacred moment with another, don't let anything sway you from participating. Your life will be enriched. And don't worry if you cry. I'll bring the tissues.

Cat Fight!
Oh my. The ears are back, the claws are out and there's no sleep to be had in the Democrats' rendition of the Iditarod. Of course, no dogs allowed. Just cats. Mean cats.

I am not alone in saying I've had enough. Dyed in the wool Democrats who wouldn't DREAM of voting for a Republican (I seem to bleed red AND blue) have thrown up their hands in disgust. It's difficult to watch two alley cats go at each other, but we're talking about two people who want to run my country (sorry, Mrs. Obama, I've been proud to be an American all my life) without taking the high ground. The news is full of accusations (some real, some inflated) about racism, reverse racism, lying, ageism, anti-feminism, every vote should count, every vote doesn't have to count, naivety, encroachment, entitlement, fanaticism, etc., etc., etc.

If this is the best the Dems can offer, they are in for trouble. The fur is flying and the icy journey is far from over. At this point, the Republicans don't need to say or do a thing. These cats are not only killing each other, they're killing any shred of decency left in the race for the Democratic nomination.

This is one funeral I may opt out of attending.

Friday AND a Full Moon!

A few ramblings at the end of a long week... it must be the full moon.

The Florida House has flushed its version of the Toilet Paper bill. Not sure what that does to the Senate version. But enough on "business news." Suffice it to say Emo Cat is happy to be out of the litter box and back reading the comics! ...


Purr....
One of Emo Cat's favorite people passed along two good commentaries on the situation with presidential hopeful Barack Obama and his spiritual mentor. (Thanks, Peebs!) I share the links here, not because I agree with everything in these two opinion pieces (although I do agree with most of them), but because they're well written by people whose prose is excellent and who add dimension to the discussion. It does seem BHO is trying to have it both ways.

1. Ann Coulter: Throw Grandma Under the Bus


2. Jeff Jacoby: It's Still a Question of Wright and Wrong ....



Scratch...
It looks as if there's going to be a cat fight about Florida and Michigan delegates to the Democratic convention. Hmmm... Nobody's coughing up the millions for re-votes. Obama didn't even bother to put his name on the ballot in Michigan. Hillary, on the other hand, seemed to be thinking ahead and made sure she was on the ballot. Will the DNC punish voters in these two (very BIG) states? It's going to be interesting. Seems to me if someone wanted to vote for a person who was not on the ballot, that someone would write in the person's name. I've done it several times when no candidate seemed palatable....


Purr...
My grandson is a Cub Scout. It's so good to see him learn how to do things a guy needs to do. He can handle a whittling knife safely, pitch camp (two tents, sleeping bags, gas stove, lanterns, coolers, etc.) by himself in an hour, fish, shoot a B-B gun as well as a bow and arrow, build a super fast derby car, and construct a pretty impressive marble chute out of paper tubes. Makes me wonder if he's reading The Dangerous Book for Boys. Scouting continues to provide quality, relevant programs, all these hundred years later...


Meow for now...
We opted for cats over dogs a few years back because we work long hours. Dogs need attention, and our schedules didn't accommodate that kind of time. The cats have filled the gap -- we have two Devon Rex cats and never knew cats could have so much personality. Hence, this blog's name...


So we won't be howling at the moon tonight. Actually we're waiting for gas prices to reflect the $5 a barrel drop in price a few days ago, and for credit card rates to fall in the wake of the Fed's action this week. We won't hold our breaths either. Rising prices are kind of like rubber bands -- once stretched they never get quite back down to their original dimension...


Have a blessed Easter -- hope your basket is full of catnip!

The Florida Legislature: Serious Business

Now, I really don't have any political sense. Saying yes for yes and no for no bodes well for getting through life -- and the few times I've written elected officials and received a response, I've been left to wonder just whose letter they read. Virginia Woolf would say there was "no there, there."

However, in some cases, it's good to use a gentler word in an explanation. In my potty training days, my mother would sit me down and urge me to do my "business." She used the euphemism throughout her life to describe the serious work involved in ridding the body of waste. Less than a month into the current session, two Florida legislators are forcing the elected body to focus on serious business.

I'm not talking about public issues that cause the citizenry great angst, such as increasing gang populations, high crime, education woes, Florida's aging population, foreclosure rates, illegal immigrants, or the uninsured. No. I'm talking about, well, what my mom would have called "business."

State Sen. Al Lawson, a Tallahassee Democrat, hopes to tax each roll of tissue paper sold in Florida by 2 cents. That would add an estimated $30 million to state coffers. This proposal has taken a backseat to one by State Sen. Victor Crist (no relation to Florida's governor, Charlie Crist). The Tampa Republican has introduced legislation (SB-836) to require Florida restaurants to have "enough" toilet paper in their restrooms. The bill also would require state restaurant inspectors to check the cleanliness of restaurants' restrooms.

Both propositions raise questions. In our household, we prefer double size rolls, so does that mean our TP will be taxed at 4 cents? Is the tax (2 cents on 50-cent roll of TP is 4 percent) in addition to our 7 percent sales tax (which the Legislature may increase in the wake of the cut in property taxes supported by the governor -- no surprise here, folks!)? And when it comes to "enough" toilet paper, just how much is enough? Enough for one wipe per patron? Two? Three?

What will happen next? Will citizens resort to substituting Kleenex tissues or paper towels to avoid the tax increase on TP? Can they tolerate the increase in restaurant prices to cover costs of new TP tax and staff to police the quantity of available TP in the stalls? (Now, that's what I want on my resume: Toilet paper monitor.) Will it force the Legislature to pass future laws regulating the number of times a citizen can relieve himself/herself? Or laws regulating the quality of TP -- no corn cob roughness, just soft, cloud-like TP?

Sad to say this "business" issue is in the national news, and Floridians find it embarrassing to know that once again we're being depicted as goobers. This can't have caught Sen. Victor Crist by surprise since he owns an advertising agency and is, presumably, well acquainted in "sexy" issues that capture attention.

I can't be the only Floridian who thinks a legislative body focused on toilet paper is full of "serious business." Come election time, it's time for us to give them the "business."

I thought every vote must count?

Election years bring out the worst in us. I have heard crude yell-downs in restaurants -- and have seen the silent treatment nearly destroy families. As a Floridian, I witnessed the smallest occurrences blown out of all proportion over the last two Presidential elections. This year, I am wondering where all the "every vote must count" chants are.

The pissin' match between the Florida Legislature and the Democratic National Committee over the primary date is at least entertaining. Who can whiz farthest? It must be pointed out that it was the Dems in the Florida Legislature who proposed and passed the early run-through despite the threats of the DNC to strip us of our delegates.

The very discussion of holding a re-vote or a ballot by mail is an insult. With Florida in a recession fed by foreclosure rates to beat the band, another primary would have cost millions that can be better spent to help its citizens. We just cut property taxes to help property owners -- and face tremendous hikes in new fees all around the state. Schools are cutting programs, police departments are culling the forces, and fire departments are doing the same. Where oh where would the millions have materialized to pay for a re-vote? The DNC says it can't afford it -- well, Florida already paid for the primary once.

Of course, if the DNC holds to its stand and doesn't allow the delegates to cast their votes at the convention, then millions of Floridians who cast their votes lose their voice. It's worse than a hanging chad. These citizens -- all Dems -- cast legitimate, counted votes for their candidates -- and their fellow Dems say, "No. Your vote can't count because we must show the Florida legislators they can't make decisions without our approval. Our whiz is better than their whiz." (In all fairness, the Republicans are not going through a similar battle only because McCain decidedly won the nomination.)

The DNC is losing credibility on this one. There is no way to justify that every vote had to count in 2000 and 2004, but now it's OK not to count the votes because they don't like the wedgie the Florida Legislature gave them by moving the primary to January. They just don't get to have it both ways.

I once worked with a colleague who had a good response to people who whined about losing a pissin' match: Suck it up, cry baby.

Belly Buttons Gross Me Out

Ugly. Just plain ugly. That's the best way to describe belly buttons. And, great abs aside, putting a little silver bauble through your belly button doesn't make that umbilical cord scar attractive. It just puts the pretty little silver bauble on an ugly display. Part of my disgust of belly buttons extends beyond the visual to friends and acquaintances who spend an inordinate amount of time contemplating their own belly buttons. You know the type -- "it's all about me." Their mantra always boils down to: "What about me? What about me? What about me?"

Boomers who became parents (mothers especially) graduated the "it's about me" stage and matriculated into discussions about baby food, soccer games and pre-school or home school. At a recent Cub Scout meeting, I was talking with another grandparent who was disgusted that his daughter isn't involved in her son's life. Her excuse: She works, after all. Yeah, don't we all.
Why is that a 60-hour work week is easier if you're a Boomer than it is if you're in your 30s? He and I were talking how we always made time for our kids and made them the priority. Perhaps we focused too much on them and now they feel entitled to be the priority still.

The point is that whether the belly button is plain, dressed up with piercings, or the object of one's meditation, it's just plain ugly.