Community Organizing

Two posts in one day? I guess I really am back.

So I've been thinking about my post from earlier--you know, the grizzly bear one.

And the more I've stewed today, the more I have come to realize that all the good, monumental things that have happened in this country have come about through the sort of "community organizing" that the republicans are being so snide and dismissive about. The way they said that term last night, with the condescending tones in their voices, as if community organizing was about as important as getting hair extensions? It makes my blood boil.

Remember when John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, Ben Franklin, and George Washington met in a secret congress and rallied the colonists against the British? Remember how that led to our eventually independence? News flash: community organizing.

Remember when a Baptist minister from Atlanta, Georgia led a bus boycott and organized a march on Washington? Remember the impact that movement had on the civil rights of the citizens of this country? News flash: community organizing.

Remember when women couldn't vote? Remember when they met in basements and dark rooms and rallies, often against their husbands' wishes, because they knew every person regardless of their genitalia deserved the right to have a say? I know, you hear it coming: community organizing.

Every person at that convention who cheered Palin and Guliani last night should rethink what it means to be an American, and how we got here.

Grizzly Over The Couch

Political diatribes.

I'm not going to write one. Even though that's the only thing running through my head, like a tape player on repeat twenty four hours a day, fueled massively by the negativity and mean-spirited nature of the Republican National Convention.

Crap. I'm pretty sure the above might count as political diatribe.

Chris and I have developed a special signal, although he and I are in complete agreement politically, that he does subtly to mean: "Honey, shut up about politics now because these people are starting to look at you funny." It's a scratch on the left side of his nose. Honey, you scratching your nose right now? I'll bet.

But I will say this: I'm running for mayor of Lake Oswego. Which in, like, four years or so should qualify me to potentially run this country, especially since I have a lot of PTA cred and I can use my special needs kid as a political pawn. And I think I could get my hands on a giant dead grizzly bear to drape over the back of the couch in my office, too.

Crap. I'm pretty sure the above might have been a political diatribe again. Apologies. Honey? Is the left side of your nose bleeding yet? I'll get you a bandaid.

Here's the thing, though: I look at my kids, and I want so many things for them. Let's face it--like every parent, I want everything for them. A country in which whomever they choose to be, or turn out to be, they are respected, they have the same liberties as everybody else, they can do what they like with their bodies. I want them to hear stories about how we turned around climate change and completely did away with our dependence on foreign oil, without ruining our own natural environment, the same way I heard stories about when we put a man on the moon. I want them to respect that they live on a beautiful planet, one where I see God everywhere, and that stewardship of this planet is not a political agenda but a responsibility we all share.

And to Mrs. Palin, who made snide comments about Obama's stint as a community organizer in Chicago, I will simply quote David Plouffe:

Both Rudy Giuliani and Sarah Palin specifically mocked Barack's experience as a community organizer on the South Side of Chicago more than two decades ago, where he worked with people who had lost jobs and been left behind when the local steel plants closed.

Let's clarify something for them right now.

Community organizing is how ordinary people respond to out-of-touch politicians and their failed policies.

Sigh. I told you I can't help it. The good news for all the readers I just alienated is that while I won't change my mind on these issues or curb my passion, I have a session with my therapist in twenty minutes and she might help me curb my anger.

And I'll book an appointment with a plastic surgeon for my husband to get his nose fixed.