Keeping House

I am not the best housekeeper in the world. I got the slob gene from my mother, although I am not really in the same league as her. She was an heroically bad housekeeper, especially as she got older. Sagas were sung! My siblings and I (and older nieces and nephews) tell stories about her house and we all laugh with great fondness and then shake our heads sadly. She just didn't care.

I was a little embarrassed by the clutter in her house, but I also got a kick out of her. She never took on that 1950's wifey clean-demon persona.  She was a complicated woman. Geez, I miss her!

Still, I keep a cleaner, neater house than she did.  She was a bit of a pack rat. The clutter in her house was over the top. I don't want my grandchildren telling stories about how messy my house was in 40 years. So I make the effort, the great sacrifice of time; however, I don't enjoy it and I don't go the extra mile. So there! I am a "perfunctory" house cleaner. I do a good enough, basic job. I like to imagine we pass as normal most days. I hope I'm not kidding myself.

You would think in retirement, one could at least keep up with these things. I try, but I have so little interest. I envy people who read Martha Stewart magazine and try to make everything beautiful. I admire those who have a day of the week for specific household tasks, who are organized and "keep up." I get it.  I appreciate it.  I just don't have it in me. Oh well.

A corner of my quilt/computer room right this very minute! Aaaack! I need to file.

Mad as Hell

I hate to admit it. I really do. But maybe a confession is in order. Although I most definitely voted for Barak Obama twice in the past 8 years, I am ashamed to admit the first time I voted for him I did not like him. Why?

I have been a feminist since the late 1960's and I have been waiting patiently for a smart and politically savvy woman to have a clear shot at becoming president. I was pumped up and flying high when Hillary Clinton stepped forward to run. She was my senator when I lived in NY State; in my book she was a fabulous senator. I knew she was the one. "We" finally had a chance. I was angry when this bright young man stepped in. I knew he was smart, I knew he was principled, I knew we were going to be in good hands with him in charge. I was psyched and heartened to know we were finally going to have a president who was also a person of color. I loved the youthful and progressive energy that surrounded his campaign. But I was still seething with anger because MY candidate didn't win. As if it as all about ME. Sheesh, sometimes I just can't stand myself. 

I was so freakin' angry that I actually refused to watch his speeches for YEARS. Yep, I'm a big baby. I couldn't even say his name with out spitting the words out, kind of like Jerry Seinfeld's reaction to Newman. My husband, a stalwart Obama supporter from the get-go, wondered if I had lost my mind. It took me 3 years to warm up to him. Obama, that is. Well, maybe my husband, too. Three wasted years of stubborn anger and miserable bitterness. Three years when Barak Obama had already hit the ground running and was working hard to pull us out of a recession he did not cause.

Now, I see him as a great president. Not only do I like him, I admire him. Okay, I kinda love him. I have to admit that, perhaps... he was the right person at that point in time to become president. In fact, I wish I could vote for him again, because I would.

I am not proud of my emotional reaction to the 2008 presidential race. That is exactly what it was, by the way, an emotional reaction.  I AM proud that I did and still care strongly about feminism as an issue. The thing is, one can't just care about only one or two issues. Then we stagnate, which only diminishes our cause and makes the world smaller and meaner. We have to see the bigger picture. 

I  hope you all watched President Obama speak last night at the DNC. It was one of the most powerful speeches I have ever seen.

The more things change

Politics stink! Each side would have us believe the world will end if their candidate doesn't win. I understand dehumanizing one's opponent is part of the game. And don't misunderstand me, I feel quite strongly about my own preference for the next president. And okay, make me say it: I don't like her opponent. However, I dislike the "fear and loathing" that politics invoke even more. I have had all I can take. From here on in, I refuse to hate. Can you stand it?

I am amazed when people believe the most outrageous lies that each side spreads about the other. So few of us want to listen to the facts. It is wrong, there is no justification for it. It would be a better world if we all made our political decisions based on our heads (intellect) instead of our hearts (belief system). I'm going to start with me.

I think back to the first presidential campaign I can remember. It was when John F. Kennedy was running against Richard Nixon in 1960. I suppose it is imprinted on my mind because JFK was Catholic and I was a Catholic school girl in 1960. We were all so proud that a Catholic was running for president, which was unheard of at the time. It was a different world and there was still deep distrust for Catholics left over from the freakin' Middle Ages! I am NOT kidding. Hate runs long and deep.

I was Roman Catholic because that was how my mother was raised. Her form of Catholicism was very European. Her grandparents immigrated to the U.S.A. from France and Germany between 1850 - 1860. They settled in a large German Catholic community near Chicago.

My father's people were as Protestant as Protestant can be. His ancestors arrived in the Colonies between 1625 and 1714 from England, Germany, Scotland, Wales, Ireland, and France. My paternal grandparents were raised Southern Baptist in Kentucky and Tennessee. When they moved up North in the 1920's, they joined a Pentecostal Protestant church.

FYI, I am proud of both sides of my family and their historically different but equally profound cultural traditions. Each family had an original immigrant to America at some point in time. I try to never forget that. It was interesting growing up in a complex and diverse family.

My paternal grandfather distrusted Catholics. It was hard for him when his son converted to Catholicism to marry my mother in the 1940's. My paternal grandparents were Democrats until JFK got the Democratic nomination for president in 1960.  Then they became conservative Republicans because my grandfather refused to vote for a Catholic. I guess the idea that a Catholic would run for president made them feel like the world was changing too much. They probably felt threatened, left out. They were used to having leaders who were just like them. They thought if a Catholic became president then he would start persecuting Protestants and the Pope would become the de facto president. It sounds so silly and hard to imagine now, but that was what many people actually "believed" back then.

I was 9 years old. I was trying to understand religion, politics, and family dynamics even though my heart was aching. I was confused and a little frightened to see the people I loved at odds with each other. Luckily, both my mother and my paternal grandmother went out of their way to remain friends. They did their best to reassure us children that no matter who became president, or what church we went to, we would still be a family. It was a great example of how to respect someone you don't necessarily agree with. 

My paternal grandmother was a different age, religion, and political persuasion than me. She was also a huge influence on my life. There was not much we agreed on as I grew older and the 1960's Culture Wars ensued. However, I knew she loved me and I knew there was no ideology or barrier to that love. I also knew not to discuss religion or politics with her. 

Grandma goofing around with two of her granddaughters in 1962

Accepting Reality?

The month of June ushers in the heat, the humidity, the rains, and hurricane season. It has been very dry for a long, long time, so in some ways I welcome the rainy season. I just hope the pool doesn't overflow...

Last year we lost quite a few new plantings to the summer rains. This spring we took care to plant hardy native plants in the wet areas of the lawn. By the end of the summer we shall see what survives the deluge and what doesn't. I am trying to make peace with Florida, which (when you get away from the housing developments) is a big, beautiful, wild, and altogether primordial place. I am also trying not to become too attached to plants and flowers, knowing that they may not be here for the long term.

As I get older I find myself fine-tuning my attachments to people, too. I dunno, they don't seem to last either.

An old fashioned yellow iris from my gardens up north