Surviving Wyoming

Thoughts on God

2011-10-29T22:31:00.001-06:00

I'm back in Tennessee. This time, the South doesn't feel quite so Christ haunted, but that might be because the Jesus-y people have a sense that I am not one and give me wide berth. This time, the South feels a little cooler, a little less humid, a little more human, and I'm within walking distance of amazing ice cream in a climate where you'd actually want to eat ice cream a good bit of the time.

It seems time to get back to the messy business of blog posting. So I'll start here.

This is probably better than the constructive paper I wrote about God even though I was sort of trying to say the same thing. Sugar and I start from opposite ends--she doesn't believe in God and even after all this education, I still somehow do--but we end up in the same place.

There is sacredness in the mundane, in the everyday, in the shaft of light, or the lifeboat comprised of the quiet words of all your friends. I don't believe in a God that changes the outcomes because you prayed a lot or were really, really well behaved or a God makes the stuff happen that requires some outcome changing.

Instead, I believe in a God more like the God that Alfred North Whitehead, the quantum physicist, describes. A God in whom and with whom we are traveling. A God who is affected by our suffering and our joy. Tough to imagine a God who can't intervene on our behalf--it messes with our sense of God's power.

But how much better to find ourselves in the process of our lives with a just God who loves us than a God with dominion over us?

The Ghost Ship That Didn't Carry Us

2011-07-14T11:04:00.002-06:00

"I’ll never know and neither will you of the life you don’t choose. We’ll only know that whatever that sister life was, it was important and beautiful and not ours. It was the ghost ship that didn’t carry us. There’s nothing to do but salute it from the shore."

- Sugar, from DEAR SUGAR, The Rumpus Advice Column #71

Long Hiatus

2010-11-07T13:33:00.003-07:00

This is, perhaps, the longest hiatus I have taken from my writing, ever. I have changed venues in the past, jumped all around from blog to blog like I used to do with places I lived (or boyfriends), but I was always writing.

This time, not so much.

In the meantime, I have been doing research. For my own publications (academic), for clients in Italy and Belgium (consulting), for an author (forthcoming book). Unfortunately, of late, the research portion of the work for the author has changed over. He has made comments. Am I to understand that I am now the girl who gets the dry cleaning? I wasn't that girl at 16 or 18 or 22 or 28. I am certainly not that girl at 37. Even in a lousy economy.

Fortunately, it has given me some stories.

True Big Dog Love

2010-08-29T08:55:00.002-06:00

Notsomuch Seen As Heard

2010-08-06T22:51:00.005-06:00

"Jackson Hole? You live in Jackson Hole? Nice. That place is badass."

[Pause.]

"To visit. That place is badass to visit. It seems like it would suck ass to live."

Thank you, Jesse, my new favorite seminarian. You summed it up nicely.

New Vocab

2010-07-25T11:08:00.002-06:00

velleity |vəˈlēətē; ve-|noun ( pl. -ties) formala wish or inclination not strong enough to lead to action : the notionintrigued me, but remained a velleity.ORIGIN early 17th cent.: from medieval Latin velleitas, from Latinvelle ‘to wish.’

Power to the Peaceful

2010-07-18T21:40:00.004-06:00

This is why we love Targhee Fest: great sun, great bands, great friends, the chance to sweat while wearing a dress and then freeze two bands later while wearing jeans.

But this is why we love Michael Franti:

NYC, early July, 2010.

2010-07-10T12:16:00.002-06:00

This was snapped on the way to the wedding. (Not my wedding.) (For that matter, not my bebe either. That's my niece Lillian at 10 weeks.)

The Crew at Castello di Casole

2010-07-05T11:46:00.002-06:00

Mashup: Days 6-10

2010-07-04T11:15:00.007-06:00

The remainder of the trip was a seemingly endless series of great meals, even better wines, and some of the best bilingual conversation we have ever had.

We drove through the Tuscany countryside to Radda in Chianti to taste wine and olive oil. (We smuggled some Supertuscans home with the cheese.) We visited I Cecchini, the touristy butcher. Adam took a bike ride to Casole d'Elsa in an homage to the Tour. I swam a lot of laps in the perfect pool. We tried aperol, limoncello, vin santo, grappa, and several world class Brunellos. Ate all the white peaches, Tuscan salsicce (sausages), anchovies (prepared in a heavenly fashion by Signora Scalcione), and cinguale (wild boar ragu) that we could get our hands on.

The weather was perfect and the people were kind. The food and the scenery were exquisite. Basically, one can't hope for a better vacation. Or better friends.

Day 5: Firenze

2010-06-30T22:40:00.008-06:00

Being in Tuscany and not visiting Florence is probably something like traveling to Jackson and not seeing Yellowstone. Or at least Old Faithful. Adam had never seen it. Ergo, we had to go. So we loaded into the tiny car.

And we went.

It was just as hot and sweaty and full of tourists as I remembered. We did not stay long. But we did see a few great things. And, of course, there was gelato.

Lunch: I Fratellini. Hole in the wall. 2,50 Euro per panini. We had three: one with goat cheese, arugula and prosciutto. One with goat cheese, spicy peppers and prosciutto. And another one. Which was also great.

We hung around just long enough to visit the Church of Santa Felicita (the last on our accidental tour of Florence's semi-obscure churches). Sta Felicita is my favorite church in the city because it is home to my favorite work of art in the world: Jacopo Pontormo's Capponi Chapel. You can't imagine the theological and artistic significance of what Pontormo was trying to do with this chapel. But that's a conversation for another blog entirely. For now, just consider the Deposition and the fresco of the Annunciation.

Sure, maybe this account of Firenze is incomplete. All the guidebooks will tell you that you could spend a lifetime in Florence. (Not me.) Top of this week's Most Emailed List in the NYTimes is 36 Hours in Florence. (About 30 hours too long.) I assure you, we saw everything they did and more. We ate better for food less. And we got the hell out of dodge as fast as possible.

Besides, why stay? There was guinea hen waiting for us at the villa.

Day 4: Field Trip

2010-06-29T23:44:00.003-06:00

Jane and Raffa's daughter Isabella lives in a small apartment in Milan. Has her whole 4-year-old life. But apparently harbors a fantasy, of unknown origin, about milking a goat.

The closest they could find was a sheep farm so we packed up in two cars, got lost three times, and arrived in time for afternoon milking.

Turns out, U.S. Customs has rules about things like this. Apparently, Americans are not supposed to go tromping around on European sheep farms and then wear those shoes back into the U.S. Something about hoof-and-mouth disease. Apparently, they are also not supposed to bring back homemade Italian cheeses in their carry-on bags.

But Adam clearly declared those things on his little blue customs form and when the guy at JFK processed him, all he said was, "Welcome home, sir."

Day 4: Lunch

2010-06-29T23:27:00.008-06:00

First off, lunch is the most underrated meal. Splitting the difference between breakfast and dinner, Americans treat it like a way to take the edge off their low blood sugar before going back to complaining about their jobs and surfing the internet. Italians, on the other hand, have raised lunch to an art form.

Add to that the opportunity to wake up in Tuscany at an hour of the morning much-too-late-for-civilized people: just in time for a pre-lunch swim. No better way to prove that you are on vacation, in my opinion.

For lunch, Isabella's babysitter taught us to make pasta alla carbonara in the authentic Roman style. She says the trick is to get the eggs to adhere to the noodles and cook just slightly. But not so much that they become scrambled eggs.

Adam still talks about this meal and, in spite of two four-course catered meals, some outrageous grilled steak dinners, Signora Scalcione's famous Tuscan guinea hen, Uncle Giacomo's homemade vin santo with biscotti, locally produced sheep cheese, and an evening turning out pizzas in our own wood-fired oven, this modest lunch still might have been the best meal of the week.

Buon appetito!

The Villa

2010-06-28T23:55:00.003-06:00

Adam snapped a few pics that first afternoon and evening. We traded our traveling clothes for swimsuits and gifts for the hosts for glasses of wine before settling into a grilled steak dinner and an unimaginably good week in Tuscany.

Day 3: JFK to PSA and the drive to the Villa

2010-06-28T23:53:00.005-06:00

When I woke up, they were serving food. I think I ate it? Can't quite remember. Tylenol PM is no Ambien, but it sure does a number on me. Maybe my choices were chicken and pasta back there in coach? Maybe it was time for breakfast? All I know is I was thankful for the extra space of the exit row.

We arrived in Pisa and picked up our bags with no problem. Caught the shuttle bus with no problem. Rented our SMART car with no problem. Got out of Pisa with no problem. Dialing the phone to tell Jane and Raffa we were 5 hours late: more of a problem. But they called when we were meant to arrive and I answered and let them know we would make it for dinner. In the meantime, we sped on down the road, following the detailed, IKEA-style, picture-only directions we had.

Almost immediately, I noticed the sections that, even in my rusty Italian, I could tell said something about speed traps on the road. There was a giant warning (very wordy) on a giant blue sign (very menacing) and then a few meters later, there was a more stern looking but smaller sign announcing the speed control. We applied American logic (keep up with the flow of traffic, don't pass anyone, only five over is fine) and motored on. Later, we came to learn that the tickets are expensive (200-400E each), can be issued anytime within the next year, are sent to your house by registered mail, and are largely ignored by derivatives traders who stay in the left lane, drive German cars, go as fast as they want, and pay the tickets when they come. Needless to say, we spent the rest of the trip chastened, slowed down at every Autovelox, and openly cursed the derivatives traders.

The highway gave way to more local roads, the local roads gave way to rural roads. More narrow, but more like the kind of traffic and scenery we are used to out here. Fields were full of sunflowers. Stone homes dotted the landscape. Rambling trucks pulled over to the side of the road sold gorgeous produce for a few Euros a kilo. The hills wound up and down and the place had the familiar feel of north central California and the rustic exoticism of a whole new adventure.

Eventually, our rural road gave way to a dirt road and we bumped and rambled in our tiny car until we reached the estate office where they would take our passports and escort us to the villa.

(Seriously? This is the "office"? We were giddy.)

Day 2: SLC to JFK

2010-06-27T23:43:00.001-06:00

8:33 flight and I'm not really a morning person. Or a math whiz. Or terribly organized. So although we thought we had timed it for the 6:40 am shuttle, we missed it and had to wait for the one at 7. Which put us checking bags at the counter about 7:25 and into the security line with about an hour to go.

Now, I have spent my whole life traveling with my father who is punctual and anxious (a lovely combination when traveling, especially). So I was aware that this was an unacceptable time table. Except that it seemed fine to me. For once in my life, I was oblivious to the potential perils and not the slightest bit anxious. Which was rather refreshing. (Note to file: allow more time but worry less either way.)

We made our flight, no problem, and flew five hours until we landed at JFK. Now, note to the weary traveler: landing early at JFK is never, never a good thing. Because inevitably, the plane before you is still at the gate and your early arrival ensures that it will have a mechanical or angry passenger or missing pilot. Something to ensure that it cannot leave and you will be carted out to the long-term-parking section of the JFK airport. Right next to the broken plane graveyard.

So we drove. And we sat. And we drove. And we sat.

In this case, they decided to bring out busses and bus us back to the terminal. We were disgorged into outrageous heat, humidity, and the smell of jet fuel and then spit out of a tunnel into the frenetic, multilingual mess that is JFK. We spent a stretch in the cab stand, harboring fantasies of making it to the great Greek restaurant, Aegean Cove, in Astoria, and then abandoned it because of the traffic (Mets were playing) and chaos (Sunday afternoon travel) that we encountered. We hit terminal 3 and had a marginal and very expensive meal served to us by a jumpy waiter after which we trekked back to our gate and waited.

The sad part was, once on board, we waited an additional 4.5 hours (on top of the 5 hours we had already waited). Something about storms near Boston, FAA restrictions, and then a broken part in the back of the plane. All I know is I had already taken the Tylenol PM and was out. I woke up only to note that we weren't moving and then when we were.

Adam squeezed my hand, I took another blue pill, and we headed out over the Atlantic.

Day 1: JAC to SLC

2010-06-26T23:36:00.002-06:00

We opted to fly from SLC so that I could use frequent flier miles to get to Italy. When you're a broke grad student, you've gotta do what you've gotta do. Fortunately, Adam was willing to take the long way around with me.

So we drove from Victor, Idaho down I-15 and into Salt Lake City on a gorgeous summer Saturday. We left late in the afternoon. Stopped in beautiful downtown Driggs and kicked it in the back of the Broulim's parking lot while The Swiss Grill made us some bratwursts and sausages for the road. I grabbed a book of photos of Yellowstone for our hosts at Dark Horse books and we set out. Next stop, Salt Lake.

The trip was uneventful and we found our way around copious construction to the original Red Iguana. Nothing like driving aimlessly through the projects looking for dinner. In a stroke of good traveling fortune, the long, long line outside did not prevent the two of us from nabbing a table within seven minutes of arrival. And the folks at the next table had lived in Italy for two years, so they were quick to provide sightseeing tips and tricks. We thanked them, knowing full well that the best thing they'd taught us is that the Red Iguana offers a free mole sampler--if you know to ask.

We headed to the airport Hilton, got a parking pass for the car, a wake up call, the shuttle schedule, and headed off to bed. Next stop: JFK.

We all have it coming.

2010-06-24T11:49:00.005-06:00

Timothy Egan's column in the NYTimes dealt--from the perspective of someone living in the West--with the state sanctioned murder by firing squad of Ronnie Lee Gardner on June 18, 2010.

Egan closed his column citing the 1992 Clint Eastwood film, "Unforgiven." Egan feels the film, "strips away a century of gauzy Western mythology."

He goes on to write this, "In the scene, the arrogant kid is drinking whiskey with Eastwood after shooting a man for the first time. He had romanticized gun-slinging; he thought it would be great to blow away some bad guys. Having finally killed someone, the kid is distraught, in tears.

'It's a helluva thing, killing a man,' Eastwood says. 'You take away all he's got. And all he's ever gonna have.'

'Well, I guess they had it coming,' the younger gunman says.

'We all have it coming, kid.'"

In other sporting news...

2010-06-23T19:16:00.003-06:00

If you are unaware of the marathon match in the first round at Wimbeldon, click here. (No option to repost the vid, sorry.)

Click it. You'll see two guys you've never heard of gutting it out in the longest tennis match of all time. Match suspended because of darkness. Score after 10 hours? 59-59 in the 5th set.

Unbelievable.

[Ed. Note: The American, James Isner, won the match this morning, 70-68.]

We're All World Cup Fans Today

2010-06-23T18:54:00.001-06:00

Gasland

2010-06-21T18:25:00.001-06:00

Premiering Monday night on HBO, Gasland turns a critical eye towards the natural gas drilling craze that has struck parts of the U.S. The award-winning documentary is not to be missed.

[Ed. Note: Apologies for all the embedded videos that end up off-center. I'm here with the Luddites and we're working on it.]

Opening Thoughts on Capital Punishment

2010-06-18T07:50:00.007-06:00

What I really wanted to talk about yesterday is a text exchange less than three hours before the state of Utah used a firing squad to execute Ronnie Lee Gardner.

me: In just over two hours, the state of Utah will execute Ronnie Lee Gardner by firing squad. WTF?? What country do we live in?

reply: A country that needs better bullets.

First off, if you can explain to me what that reply means, please post it in the comments section. I have no idea and no explanation was forthcoming.

Second, that reply comes from someone who knows me well. Who knows that every Monday night from January to May I passed through security at the Riverbend Maximum Security Prison to attend class and talk with the inmates there. Who knows how strongly I feel about the state of the prison industrial complex. A person who is well aware that I have objected to capital punishment for every moment of my remembered life.

I can make no sense of state sanctioned murder. It makes murderers of us all. Our prison industrial complex is a horrifying morass of corruption, exploitation, and stands as a testament to our collective hopelessness. That we cling to the belief that the execution of a killer will result in less death stands as a monument to our collective insanity, fear, and bitterness.

Happy Thursday to All. And to All a Good Night.

2010-06-18T00:43:00.013-06:00

thursday in review:

I wake up sick, but there is laundry to do so I trudge out into the SNOW and do laundry. (ok, this is somewhat of an overstatement, but it was 27 degrees, the dog's water was frozen, and there were snowflakes coming out of the sky. granted, none of them stuck to the ground or accumulated into a pile of any sort...making my use of the word "trudge" the worst kind of hyperbole.)

my sweet dying dog all of a sudden goes downhill. worse still, there is nothing tangible I can point to, I just have a feeling. having a "feeling" doesn't sell well in these parts.

the wind blows 40+ with gusts up to 60 and, at one point, the kitty somehow gets slammed in the door. she shrieks and comes up lame then convalesces for the afternoon. smooshed kitties likewise don't get much sympathy around here.

the doctor confirms that I have a UTI. ugh. in the realm of relatively banal illnesses, is there anything worse?

my afternoon is scheduled to be bookended by the Pastor of my former church with whom I had a falling out 16 months ago and dinner at a fancy restaurant. I become too sick to go to the meeting or the dinner. the Pastor very generously reschedules. the dinner companion says he is not upset but seems to be upset.

at the end of the day, it is intimated that I am tumultuous. that I act like everything is life and death. hard for me to swallow since the dog is ACTUALLY dying. the biopsies and the vet both said so.

meanwhile, during the course of the same day recounting in the same fashion the same facts (snow, ice, vet, dog, wind, door, cat, illness), I hear from two non-Wyoming friends that they are impressed with my calm.

but that is precisely the silver lining of the day:

I left for long enough to know that I handle my life well. am normal in the world outside of Jackson, Wyoming. here, any emotion, whether modulated or fully expressed, falls outside of the lines.

those lines don't work for me.

The Inside Skinny

2010-06-14T13:35:00.008-06:00

Yup. Been busy.

Truth be told, I haven't been doing much, but when it is raining/storming all the time and you are poaching an internet connection, there is a.) not much to do and b.) not much internet access with which to report those non-doings.

But today the sun is out and my bare white arms saw their first light of day since back when I was in Nashville. In no way do I believe that such exposure will result in a suntan, but I do feel supreme relief that I will not get a case of whatever the Vitamin-D version of scurvy is.

Excerpts from a rainy weekend:

My cousin Alexa is even craftier than I ever knew. Check out her new line of Nella Dolls. Eco-mod, earth-friendly, organic, handmade, felted lambswool dolls. Perfect for newborns especially.

Some people are incapable of being gracious. Like the mama-to-be who received some Nella Dolls and made clear that she would have preferred something on her registry. Can you say Carly Fiorina school of manners? Ahem.

Lawn mower racing is fun for the whole family. When I have pictures, I will put them up. Also, with his stellar lawn mower announcing skills, Leland Christensen has locked up my vote for Wyoming State Senate. Maybe he'll bring some life into that chamber. Those guys are Zzzzzzzz.

Grand Teton Brewing will give you $1 off per pint if you walk/bike/ski in on a Saturday. Well worth it. $2.25 for some of the best beer around. Plus free popcorn and horseshoes.

I put up a new blog (sorry, I was trying to stay put). Try to read it in addition to this one. Called That Dog Won't Hunt, it is my first foray into wordpress.com and is about my beast Buddy. He has lymphosarcoma so this might be his last summer. If you have a Buddy story (and pretty much everyone who has encountered him does), send it along!

Economics 101

2010-06-01T12:54:00.001-06:00

Questions about the world economic situation? Confused about what's going on in the EU? This might help.

The F-Word

2010-05-30T21:53:00.002-06:00

The following articles and op-eds on feminism appeared over the weekend:

Sarah Palin's 'Mama Grizzlies' by Mark McKinnon.

The Fake Feminism of Sarah Palin by Jessica Valenti.

In Camouflage or Veil, a Fragile Bond by Elisabeth Bumiller.

Also, a couple of reviews (a scathing one by Nick Kristof here and a fawning one by Tunku Varadarajan here) of Ayaan Hirsi Ali's new book Nomad. Plus a review of the Kristof review.

Many Faiths, One Truth

2010-05-25T07:27:00.008-06:00

Many Faiths, One Truth
By TENZIN GYATSO
Reprinted from the May 24, 2010 NYTimes

WHEN I was a boy in Tibet, I felt that my own Buddhist religion must be the best — and that other faiths were somehow inferior. Now I see how naïve I was, and how dangerous the extremes of religious intolerance can be today.

Though intolerance may be as old as religion itself, we still see vigorous signs of its virulence. In Europe, there are intense debates about newcomers wearing veils or wanting to erect minarets and episodes of violence against Muslim immigrants. Radical atheists issue blanket condemnations of those who hold to religious beliefs. In the Middle East, the flames of war are fanned by hatred of those who adhere to a different faith.

Such tensions are likely to increase as the world becomes more interconnected and cultures, peoples and religions become ever more entwined. The pressure this creates tests more than our tolerance — it demands that we promote peaceful coexistence and understanding across boundaries.

Granted, every religion has a sense of exclusivity as part of its core identity. Even so, I believe there is genuine potential for mutual understanding. While preserving faith toward one’s own tradition, one can respect, admire and appreciate other traditions.

An early eye-opener for me was my meeting with the Trappist monk Thomas Merton in India shortly before his untimely death in 1968. Merton told me he could be perfectly faithful to Christianity, yet learn in depth from other religions like Buddhism. The same is true for me as an ardent Buddhist learning from the world’s other great religions.

A main point in my discussion with Merton was how central compassion was to the message of both Christianity and Buddhism. In my readings of the New Testament, I find myself inspired by Jesus’ acts of compassion. His miracle of the loaves and fishes, his healing and his teaching are all motivated by the desire to relieve suffering.

I’m a firm believer in the power of personal contact to bridge differences, so I’ve long been drawn to dialogues with people of other religious outlooks. The focus on compassion that Merton and I observed in our two religions strikes me as a strong unifying thread among all the major faiths. And these days we need to highlight what unifies us.

Take Judaism, for instance. I first visited a synagogue in Cochin, India, in 1965, and have met with many rabbis over the years. I remember vividly the rabbi in the Netherlands who told me about the Holocaust with such intensity that we were both in tears. And I’ve learned how the Talmud and the Bible repeat the theme of compassion, as in the passage in Leviticus that admonishes, “Love your neighbor as yourself.”

In my many encounters with Hindu scholars in India, I’ve come to see the centrality of selfless compassion in Hinduism too — as expressed, for instance, in the Bhagavad Gita, which praises those who “delight in the welfare of all beings.” I’m moved by the ways this value has been expressed in the life of great beings like Mahatma Gandhi, or the lesser-known Baba Amte, who founded a leper colony not far from a Tibetan settlement in Maharashtra State in India. There he fed and sheltered lepers who were otherwise shunned. When I received my Nobel Peace Prize, I made a donation to his colony.

Compassion is equally important in Islam — and recognizing that has become crucial in the years since Sept. 11, especially in answering those who paint Islam as a militant faith. On the first anniversary of 9/11, I spoke at the National Cathedral in Washington, pleading that we not blindly follow the lead of some in the news media and let the violent acts of a few individuals define an entire religion.

Let me tell you about the Islam I know. Tibet has had an Islamic community for around 400 years, although my richest contacts with Islam have been in India, which has the world’s second-largest Muslim population. An imam in Ladakh once told me that a true Muslim should love and respect all of Allah’s creatures. And in my understanding, Islam enshrines compassion as a core spiritual principle, reflected in the very name of God, the “Compassionate and Merciful,” that appears at the beginning of virtually each chapter of the Koran.

Finding common ground among faiths can help us bridge needless divides at a time when unified action is more crucial than ever. As a species, we must embrace the oneness of humanity as we face global issues like pandemics, economic crises and ecological disaster. At that scale, our response must be as one.

Harmony among the major faiths has become an essential ingredient of peaceful coexistence in our world. From this perspective, mutual understanding among these traditions is not merely the business of religious believers — it matters for the welfare of humanity as a whole.

Tenzin Gyatso, the 14th Dalai Lama, is the author, most recently, of “Toward a True Kinship of Faiths: How the World’s Religions Can Come Together.”

Wherein I Quote John Hughes to Counter Russ Douthat

2010-05-11T08:22:00.008-06:00

On May 9, the NYTimes ran a jumbled op-ed by conservative commentator, Russ Douthat. It is a seemingly earnest attempt to nuance the reproductive politics of red and blue states, and is presumably also a nod to his mother on Mother's Day.*

As is too often the case, however, he verges into territory where he has no business being, in the process committing the cardinal sin of intellectuals: a Breakfast Club view of the world. You see the world as you want to see it: in the simplest terms, the most convenient definitions. By flattening this discussion into two dimensions, Mr Douthat fails at nuance, attempting to brainwash the reader. He becomes Mr. Vernon, the dark lord of detention, generalizing at every turn.

His oversimplification--and subsequent moralizing--about abortion rates in Connecticut and Montana. Just because these two states have similar rates of teen pregnancy, is it in any way a valid comparison to talk about their abortion rates?

Connecticut has 3.5M people in the 48th largest state by area (a mere 5500 square miles). A densely populated place, even the furthest corner is less than 100 miles to NYC. (That same "remote" corner of CT is a short drive from Poughkeepsie with 621,000 people. Largest city in Montana? Billings. Population 311,000.) Montana, conversely, is the 4th largest state by area at 147,000 square miles or 26 times the size, and has less than one-third the population with under 1M.

This is not just a red-blue disparity.

Delve a little further and Google will produce approximately 10 providers in Connecticut listed specifically as abortion providers. The same search for Montana? Three women's clinics. None makes clear whether abortion is a service it provides. One of those clinics is in SEATTLE nearly 500 miles away.

This gets to the real heart of the matter: access.

Do not mistake limiting access to abortion with a moral position on abortion. Women in states without access have a different set of choices to make. This does not make these women morally superior, as Douthat implies when he says that the disparate abortion rates in these two "similar" states represent, An attempt, however compromised, to navigate post-sexual revolution American without relying on abortion. These women might not make the same choices under different circumstances. Nor are any choices around abortion absolute.

Instead, when it comes right down to it, all we are talking about here is the the luck of geography.

*Elsewhere, I will take Mr. Douthat to task for his vilification, in the same op-ed, of the sexual revolution. Just because he was jumbled doesn't mean that I have to be.

On My Radar

2010-05-10T09:06:00.010-06:00

The term is over, the writing is done! I have returned from reading and blogging about nothing but the flood. In between packing bags, I'll be checking out the internets to see what is new in the world. In the meantime, here is what is on my radar:

A great flood timeline at the Tennessean. Really worth clicking on every single moment of that timeline. Also, kudos to Hands on Nashville, the staggering number of volunteers, and to the CEO at Opryland. All stepping up big. We are Nashville after all.

President Obama selects Solicitor General Elena Kagan to be his Supreme Court nominee replacing Justice Stevens. For a good overview of the Court right now, visit SCOTUSblog.com where you can also find an excellent piece on Kagan. For more on her, read the piece in the NYTimes and this piece in the WSJ. For the first time in history, we have the possibility of having 3 women on the court. A HUGE step in the direction of equality. One more, and we've actually caught up to the times. Imagine that.

Nashville Rising: A Benefit Concert for Flood Recovery was announced this morning. Tickets go on sale Friday for a once-in-a-lifetime assemblage of Nashville's best musicians. More information here.

Moby's new video Wait For Me is brilliant. Old school. Inventive. Disastrously sad. Features a giant wasp. And seems to capture the same existential angst that Gen X men are apparently experiencing as they hit the not-yet-a-grown-up-already-in-midlife-crisis that A.O. Scott writes about in the NYTimes. My favorite line in Gen X Has a Midlife Crisis? Milo, who was going to be the greatest painter of his time, slowly gave that up and ran aground in the world of non-profit fundraising. Might be the funniest thing that A.O. Scott has ever quoted. (Though it also might hit a little close to home.)

More after I pack some bags.

Signs of Spring: Meadowlark

2010-05-09T22:35:00.012-06:00

Photo credit Adam Meyer.

We Are Nashville

2010-05-06T18:34:00.007-06:00

The call went out for volunteers to move sandbags. And Nashville responded. In force.

From Hands on Nashville's twitpic.

You Can Help. Just Follow the Directions.

2010-05-06T18:13:00.013-06:00

Here's your assignment:

1. Read the post over at Section 303.

2. Buy the shirt and support the Community Foundation of Middle Tennessee.

3. Visit Hands on Nashville to find out how where you can volunteer.

4. Give,

5. give,

6. give.

Now repeat after me: read, buy, visit, volunteer, give, give, give! Read, buy, visit, volunteer, give!

And, though it seems like the rest of the nation has forgotten us, we're handling it. But any help you can provide, we need. And if you want to assist, fly in, the airport is open and I will take care of you.

[Ed. Note: You can now text RED CROSS to 90999 to give $10 to flood relief.]

The waters recede...

2010-05-06T16:23:00.008-06:00

Photos courtesy of the Tennessean.

Volunteer!

2010-05-06T06:41:00.004-06:00

Hey out there! Want to help out with the recovery effort?

Hands on Nashville website links people with projects. (You know its effective when 20-somethings are talking about it in the bar on Trivia night.) Click on their calendar here or sign up here. As soon as I get this last bit of schoolwork done, I'm headed out to help out.

As Gail Kerr says in her excellent column, step up, even if your feet are wet. So do it! Step up, even if your feet are wet. And give through the Community Foundation of Middle Tennessee.

[Ed. Note: FEMA has announced that the City of Nashville will be reimbursed for every volunteer hour logged through Hands on Nashville. If your group has a volunteer project, make sure to get it registered with HON. It means more dollars for the recovery effort!]

Wednesday Update: River Has Crested

2010-05-05T20:40:00.007-06:00

Tuesday Afternoon: Rising Water

2010-05-04T16:10:00.036-06:00

Nashville is now, officially, a disaster area. For more on the situation click here. And to give to flood relief, click here.

It is late on Tuesday afternoon and the weather is gorgeous. But the city is still under water and they say the Cumberland River is not expected to crest until sometime tomorrow. More flooding is at hand.

The situation is a chance to remember how lucky we are. It is also an opportunity to remember our forgotten neighbors. Farmers lost all of their crops. Tent city was destroyed and the homeless, already suffering, suffer more. Residents of the neighborhood where I work were bussed to safety, but many lost much of the little they had.

That said, there is kindness everywhere. The local bakery is the temporary home of the chamber of commerce. People have opened their homes to evacuees. Just now, outside my window, a guy came upon a tree blocking the roadway. He hopped out, pulled out his chainsaw, cleared a lane of traffic, hopped back in and drove away. So we'll all pull together and do the best we can. As Patten Fuqua over at Section 303 says in his excellent post, We Are Nashville.

Photos courtesy of the Tennessean.

Film.

2010-05-03T13:27:00.004-06:00

I'll claim this city. Wouldn't you?

Nashville Made the NYTimes

2010-05-03T13:14:00.006-06:00

All it took was a Biblical-style flood.

Article here. Check the video here.

Photo credit: Kristen M. Hall/AP

Laura's Pics for Perspective

2010-05-03T09:26:00.007-06:00

Truck yesterday.

Same truck today.

Photo credit: Laura Rossbert.

Doesn't Anyone At CNN Use the Internets?

2010-05-03T07:17:00.018-06:00

If they did, they might have gone on facebook or Twitter. And they might have noticed a lot of scared people in the South passing information back and forth about road closures and evacuations. They might have noticed that not just the city of Nashville, but literally the entire state of Tennessee, was under water. But, apparently, no one noticed. Go figure.

Which means that even my blog scooped CNN. If you click here, you can read an article about our weather and check out the same video as I've got. (A floating building really makes the point.)

On the plus side, I'm glad to see that Wyoming isn't the only place that gets overlooked in national news coverage. I have no idea what was important enough to cover this weekend - I had no power and was huddled away from the windows behind the bed trying to remember what to do in a storm. Tornado: get in the basement. Flooding: get out of the basement. Loss of electricity: eat all the ice cream.

If you're just waking up to this (not me, I woke up to a chainsaw trying to remove the downed tree outside my window; it sounds like the Hill Climb out there), we are mostly safe.

More reports as they come in.

[Ed. Note: Good local articles here and here.]

All Roads in Blue Are Considered Flooded.

2010-05-02T21:25:00.002-06:00

So, basically, what I'm saying is all roads are considered flooded.

Welcome to Nashville, the May Edition.

2010-05-02T20:40:00.012-06:00

If you didn't catch the building out of the corner of your eye at the beginning, skip ahead to the 1:00 mark. Then you can watch it float down the highway.

I believe at one point they clocked 13 inches of rain yesterday. They reported the total over 18" today. At our house we had a huge tree just miss the house, a brief fire when the transformer on the corner exploded, and no power for 12 hours. It was a good excuse to eat ice cream and take naps. All things considered, we fared well. Not so for many friends in other parts of the city.

Be careful. Stay safe and dry. We're thinking of you.

You're Only As Old As the Men Who Love You

2010-05-01T06:37:00.009-06:00

It's true that last week I got a little older. And my boyfriend did not.

I picture Betty White as a somewhat older, female version of Matthew McConaughey in Dazed and Confused. You can almost hear her saying, "The best part is, I keep getting older and they stay the same age."

There's a Bebe!

2010-04-26T20:38:00.003-06:00

Lillian Catherine Simon. 6 lbs 7 oz. Everyone's happy and healthy. Yippee!

Wyoming Voyeurism

2010-04-24T10:59:00.008-06:00

My favorite birds are back!

When I lived in Victor, ID more than a decade ago and commuted Teton Pass, one of my guilty commuting pleasures was watching the progress of the osprey.

I knew it was coming on spring when first one and then both of the osprey returned to their nest adjacent to the Puzzleface Ranch. It was clearly summer once a young osprey hatched. In the same commuter-length snippets I would watch that baby osprey learn to fly. I'd look for it on nearby wires and trees and poles and worry when it hadn't returned to the nest on my evening commute home.

This summer, Teton Raptor Center and my great friend Amy have given an osprey voyeur like me the chance to watch from wherever. Including right here in on my Saturday couch in stormy Nashville. This fabulous osprey cam means that I can see whether spring has returned to Jackson Hole.

Judging by the pics, I'd say it has.

I would have paid money for this before starting Div School.

2010-04-21T21:33:00.001-06:00

Some Things I Have in Common with Sarah Silverman

2010-04-20T20:53:00.006-06:00

On the eve of the eve of birthday eve, I've already been reflecting on what it means to be 37.

First off, it means that I totally blew it on the whole baby thing. Remember, back last year when the doc told me I better be sure to have kids before 37? (Might have been more effective to tell me a little sooner.) And, of course, there's also the oh-so-painful-yet-totally-inevitable fact of the 37-ness of it all.

So who knew that Sarah Silverman would be my muse putting this whole aging thing in perspective? In today's Daily Beast, she talks a little bit about how she is dealing with pushing 40. And then she makes a point I can totally get behind.

"There's really no point in being bummed about it. I mean, Jennifer Aniston will always be a year or two older than me, and she's Jennifer Aniston! Which I realize is a fucked up perspective, but still."

Saving the White Rhinos with Sanjayan

2010-04-19T23:19:00.004-06:00

Visit msnbc.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

Somewhere, a sad, obese man in pristine ASICS scarfs cookie dough over an unopened Runner's World, complaining that he needs more "tips."*

2010-04-18T21:30:00.008-06:00

I wander around on the interwebs a lot.

I like to read and forward. (Read and forward. Read and forward. Read and forward. You get the picture.) Truth be told, I'm something of a savant at matching articles to people. What you find in your inbox was almost always handpicked for you. It's like my own private game of Memory.

Sometimes, I come across something that everyone should read. Usually, those are the pieces that I like so much that I wish I had written them. Like this piece from 43 Folders: Real Advice Hurts. And he's right: real advice does hurt. But if you're actually interested in change, it always does the trick.

Needless to say, I'm pretty excited to extract my ass from the couch. And now I have an excuse to chew gum.

*Title courtesy of hotdogsladies status update (Merlin Mann's Twitter feed).

Zizek on Sewanee

2010-04-18T16:01:00.004-06:00

My favorite part is when Zizek says this:

"My greatest disappointments were Harvard, Stanford, so on. People are so pretentious there, you know. They think they...we have a very vulgar expression, if you pardon me, in Slovenia - even Catholics use it. It's like, when you are too pretentious, you think you are holding God by his testicles."

100% Accurate.

2010-04-17T12:09:00.004-06:00

Be sure to check out Red Ants Pants. I can't vouch for the pants, but the ladies who make them sure seem to know what's up.

Your 15 Minutes of Fame Starts Now

2010-04-15T10:57:00.006-06:00

Adam on his way to work on Wednesday. As evidenced on the cover of Thursday's paper.

Hometown Tacos

2010-04-13T12:54:00.005-06:00

Pica's - our fav taqueria in Jackson - was just voted one of the top taco spots in the entire US by no less credible a source than Food & Wine. Check out the article here!

I thought you might need a break from theology.

2010-04-11T12:42:00.003-06:00

Thanks to Dan Pink and Screenr. The coolest "unsubscribe" page ever.

Somebody gets their target market.

John Thatamanil on HuffPo. And some thoughts on interreligious dialogue.

2010-04-09T14:32:00.007-06:00

Today's Huffington Post brings welcome reflection on PBS' presentation of Grubin's The Buddha. Written by one of my professors, Dr John J Thatamanil, it is a call for greater interreligious understanding for the purpose of living mindfully and compassionately in the world.

Recently, in John's soteriology seminar, we engaged in a Christian-Buddhist conversation of the kind he calls for in his piece. In the midst of it, a colleague said, "I would never, in any way, want to disown the Christ that I claim." While I can readily second this emotion, after that elegant introduction she quickly made clear a position that left me thinking that her Jesus and my Jesus are about as similar as lightning and lightning bugs.*

What John is calling for in his teaching, praxis, and in the HuffPo piece is steeped in the wisdom of lived experience. As we move through our everyday lives, it is nothing short of foolish to think that we will not encounter someone who is different than we are. If that difference takes on a religious dimension, as it is wont to do, we are impelled by courtesy and a source no less important than the Bible, not to bear false witness against our neighbor. To do this, we are compelled to have, at the very least, an open mind.

The truth is--or at least my truth is--I don't want to deny anyone their Jesus. But when their Jesus comes looking for me, as it was suggested to me that he is, does, and will, I have to ask the question: is that Jesus the only game in town?

*With apologies to Mark Twain for the liberties taken with his quote. He actually said: "The difference between the right word and almost the right word is the difference between lightning and a lightning bug." My father, on the other hand, would have phrased it like this: "It's the difference between chicken shit and chicken salad." But you can see where I wouldn't want to be applying that too close to Christ. Just in case someone read it wrong. (As if that ever happens.)

[Ed. note: John's piece is now the main feature on the HuffPo's Religion page. And the genesis of quite a dialogue there! Be sure to check it out.]

Can the Pope revoke someone's sainthood?

2010-04-06T22:34:00.002-06:00

The Explainer explains about sainthood.

Weather.

2010-04-02T16:39:00.003-06:00

File this under: Things I Do NOT Miss About Wyoming.

110 mph at the top of Sublette.

Local (if you're in Nashville) Chocolate

2010-03-17T19:24:00.002-06:00

Catholic Nuns: Health Care Reform "Is the Real Pro-Life Stance"

2010-03-17T16:45:00.003-06:00

Who can beat that title? Or that logic? God Bless the nuns for finally speaking the truth.

As one of my professors says, we are all born imperfect human beings. Our health fails. Health care should, therefore, be a universal right.

Read today's news for more on the nuns' position.

I'm Back!

2010-03-14T14:23:00.005-06:00

After seven months in Nashville, it is all too clear to me that I am a Wyoming girl. True, I spent my last two vacations in Victor, ID, but that's pretty much the same as Wyoming anyway. They should really look into annexing it. I would move there if they did.

So abandon (as I did ages ago) reading any other blog of mine. (Especially that Jesus one. I have been hanging out with Jesus in Nashville and the Jesus here is not the same guy in the mountains in Wyoming. I like our guy better). Don't head over to JenSimonSays.blogspot.com (I'll import those things to this space). Just renew your RSS feed and read on.

I'm back!

Hey!

2009-08-11T20:44:00.006-06:00

Thinking to yourself, Sister, you live in Music City now, how can you write on SurvivingWyoming? Wondering, How will she ever reconcile the Bible Belt with the Cowboy State?

Well, worry no more!

If you are at all curious about my divine adventures in the Bible Belt, check out the new blog over at Jesus, What Was I Thinking? (Because that's how it feels so far.)

There will still be Wyoming-worthy posts that appear over here from time to time--because I am not relinquishing my status as a Wyomingite. Far from it. But at the moment I have to answer another question.

Jesus, what was I thinking?

Surviving Nashville

2009-08-10T07:22:00.012-06:00

Tuesday

By the time my fab driving companion had been gone a mere 18 hours, I had been lost in this city six times. Once on a conference call while pretending to know what I was talking about without the benefit of notes. That time, I was lost in a neighborhood that seemed to specialize in narrow streets, loose dogs, and bars on windows. After that, I bought a Garmin GPS. She is annoying, but she helps.

Still Tuesday

I went to buy a bed at the fancy mall in suburban Nashville. Turns out, it was the last day of the mega sale, but I was too tired to deal, so the guy gave me his card and said I could call it in. As luck (my luck) would have it, their phone system was on the fritz and he never answered. Leaving me to drive back at 8:45 pm to buy the bed in person before they closed at 9.

As luck (my luck) would have it, the computer went down and a storm came up. That same storm dropped 6.5 inches of water on Louisville a few hours earlier and though it was more reasonable with Nashville, I still ran the 25 feet to the car through 2 inches of standing water and was completely drenched.

Wednesday

My landlord called at 11 pm. It was the first night that I had stayed in my apartment and the first night I had walked the dogs here. He was calling because his mother who, it turns out, is also the neighbor, sent him a "blistering" email about the irresponsible girl he was renting to. That she has dogs and those dogs had trashed her yard and gone to the bathroom there, too. (Which I roundly disputed.)

Thursday-Saturday

Post-late-night landlord call, I was on the lookout for a new place. The best I could do was near the freeway, smelled of smoke, had a fenced yard with a six foot gap in the fence, and the creepy guy who lived there had rotting food in the sink, erotic art on the walls, and had wallpapered his bedroom wall with a bucolic woodland scene circa 1982. He was rocking the retro vibe. Hard.

(Note to all you skinny, white, artsy, early 20-something boys who are trying to be a cross between Napoleon Dynamite and that kid in Breaking Away: just stop it.)

Sunday

Well, it was pretty good. See Week in Review/Things I Love About Tennessee. Because they all happened on Sunday. Perhaps it's a sign?

That said, my air mattress, which has been tiding me over (barely) until they call about mattress delivery (still waiting), suffered a rupture. I dug the receipt out of the trash and hoped that the mattress people would call about delivery.

Monday

Huzzah! This morning, they finally called about delivering the hard won bed.

Unfortunately, they called at 6:45 am to say they were on their way. I said no, please do it later (it has to come up the stairs in the middle of my landlord's house and I was not too keen on calling him pre-7 am on a Monday to request this permission). Apparently, since I couldn't do it just then, they cancelled my delivery entirely. Who knew?

At this point, I am the Lady of Perpetually-Waiting-For-The-Other-Shoe-To-Drop. And while that might get me in line for martyrdom, it does little to quell the anxiety I was hoping to leave back in Wyoming.

Nashville, Baby, Nashville

2009-08-09T19:21:00.007-06:00

I'll bet you're wondering: How did the move go? Was it seamless? Flawless? Did you cry? Make a scene? Throw a tantrum that was so totally uncalled for that God Himself wondered how the hell you got into divinity school?

Uhm...you've met me, right?

Overall, it went better than expected and I cried a bucket anyway. In the meantime, as I unpack boxes, these are the things I love so far about Tennessee:

That everyone in the Cracker Barrel will always call you hon. Except for the cute little twentysomething girls I probably could have birthed. Then they call you ma'am.

Fireflies.

The widespread appreciation that a tomato is not, in fact, a hard, flavorless, orange sphere that you slice and place on a hamburger. These people get it. And they have an annual Tomato Festival to prove it.

That lemonade comes flavored with watermelon. Or blackberry, blueberry, ginger, or who knows what all else. Watermelon is my favorite.

That it is still tank top weather after the sun goes down. (To all you Jackson people wearing puffy coats in August, I have only one word. HA! Added bonus: hot days = sleepy dogs.)

Super-comfy seats at the mega-plex movie theater. (Go see Julie & Julia by the way. I loved it. The whole sold-out movie theater actually clapped when the flick was over.)

The preponderance of people in St Ann's Episcopal this morning wearing Hawaiian shirts. And I don't think it was a themed service.

The char-burger, medium, at PM. The buns are heavenly.

And if you are out there, come visit. There's so much space in this apartment you could move in and we'd barely ever see each other.

Math Lessons, Summer 2009

2009-07-27T10:13:00.012-06:00

Last summer we talked about how men do math. This summer, we are tackling the topic of how airlines do math. (Judging by the bankruptcies I am going to hazard a guess: Not well.)

This morning, I discovered that the one-way ticket I bought my soon-to-be-roadtrip companion had dropped from $159.60 to $104.60. A difference of $55. When I called an unnamed airline to obtain the credit, they offered me the following options:

1. Change to another flight. (Interesting option. But what will it cost?) Cost: $95.

2. Receive the credit back to my credit card. (Yes! I want this one!) Cost: $95.

Come again?

Apparently, receiving a credit counts as a change to your ticket and therefore incurs the standard change fee of $150. Therefore costing $95 to buy back $55. ($150 - $55 = $95.)

On the plus side, they sent me this:

Too small to read? Let me explain.

At good ol' United, to get $55 will cost you $95 for which they will pay you $100. Granted, they pay that $100 in Monopoly money, but isn't that a valid form of currency in California these days?

Dog Days of Summer

2009-07-19T20:10:00.009-06:00

It is hot here.

Hotter still, I understand, in NYC and Nashville. Here, at least, it cools off at night and you can always go jump in the river. There? Well, not sure what your options are there. But it seems that some creative souls might have figured out one great new way to cool off in the dogs days of summer.

And though packing has caused me to be thin on commentary--not much space left in my brain--the article that goes with that photo is too cool not to post.

With or without commentary.

Ode to Bert

2009-07-14T11:01:00.001-06:00

Our own Bert Raynes in the Chicago Sun-Times!

Native Blessing

2009-07-09T00:06:00.000-06:00

Bless these, our circumstances.
Bless the hardship and the pain.
Bless the hunger and the thirst.
Bless the locusts and the drought.
Bless the things which do not turn out right.
Bless those who take all and give not.
In these circumstances, find growth.
In growth, discover clarity.
In clarity, an inner vision.

- Nancy Wood, from Spirit Walker

What is there to say?

2009-07-08T22:34:00.027-06:00

This morning came the tragic news that Jimmy Nakama, husband of Gretchen, father of Emmitt and Eva, brother-in-law of my beloved friend Ben, drowned yesterday in an afternoon rafting trip on the Arkansas River in Colorado.

Our thoughts and prayers are with the Roth and Nakama families.

This time, I can only post this passage from Wallace Stegner's All The Little Live Things that Katie passed along:

"Paradise, so late our happy seat, was lost, and lost not through any of the people I felt like casting in the snake's role, but through one to whom our hearts instantly went out. It is hard doctrine, but I was beginning to comprehend it then, and I have not repudiated it now: that love, not sin, costs us Eden. Love is a carrier of death -- the only thing, in fact, that makes death significant.

And so? Admitting what is so obvious, what then? Would I wipe Marian Catlin out of my unperfected consciousness if I could? Would I forgo the pleasure of her company to escape the bleakness of her loss? Would I go back to my own formula, which was twilight sleep, to evade the pain she brought with her?

Not for a moment. And so even in the gnashing of my teeth I acknowledge my conversion. It turns out to be for me as I once told her it would be for her daughter. I shall be richer all my life for this sorrow."

Katie went on to say, May peace be yours. I wish you the same. May peace, somehow, be yours.

More Tragic News

2009-07-01T22:32:00.005-06:00

This afternoon came the news that Mayor Mark Barron's son Wes died while climbing alone in Curtis Canyon. Our thoughts and prayers go out to Mark and RuthAnn and Wes's sister Mary as well as his mother Donna.

Town seems full of sadness right now.

I can only offer, one more time, the words of William Sloane Coffin at the time of his son Alex's death, delivered in this sermon. I keep reading it. And am now am hoping I won't have to wear out that page in the book.

Be well.

For you.

2009-06-27T18:58:00.004-06:00

Time wastes too fast.

an article celebrating the previously unsung genius of my fitness plan:

2009-06-25T16:28:00.001-06:00

Can you get fit in six minutes a week?

Answer: yes.

I hate to say I told you so...

Six Degrees of Separation (or less)

2009-06-23T13:36:00.004-06:00

It is no secret that I love food. (Though it might surprise you that I often forget to eat. Sometimes even in the midst of planning elaborate menus.)

It may however come as a surprise that my first introduction to the legendary Russ & Daughters in NYC was via a friend from Florida who comes to Jackson for part of the year. Maybe it was a birthday, maybe it was a holiday, maybe I just had particularly good karma that week, but I received in the mail the New York Nostalgia care package. A whole box full of yummy Jewish deli goodness unavailable within thousands of miles of my front door.

Now, I had read of Russ & Daughters in my all-time favorite book, Tepper Isn't Going Out, by the generally-but-not-in-this-case food writer and satirist Calvin Trillin. (It stands to reason that he would have included Russ & Daughters in this slim and hilarious volume. There had to be yummy food in there somewhere!)

But until that delightful care package day, I didn't really know Russ & Daughters. So imagine my pleasure when my college roomie wrote to say that she is good friends with one of the owners. And my further delight this morning when she sent me this. Her new kiddo on a Russ & Daughters quilt from Nana Stewart.

I love the way the world works sometimes. Now if someone would just introduce me to Calvin Trillin...

Tragic News

2009-06-22T17:38:00.004-06:00

This morning came the tragic news of Willie Neal's death. Accounts are here, here, and here. Our thoughts and prayers go out to the Neal Family and everyone affected by this loss. There are not words to explain what an incredible inspiration Willie was to everyone he met.

I know everyone I encountered today was completely at a loss as to how to process this. We all wandered about, a little off kilter, bumping into each other and wondering what to say or do to help.

This is the only thing that I can offer. The words of William Sloane Coffin from a sermon he delivered one week after his own son Alex's death in a car accident.

But, nonetheless, some things just don't make sense. And never will.

The Inside Skinny, Part I

2009-06-21T14:26:00.012-06:00

From yesterday's NYTimes comes this article: Treasury's Got Bill Gross on Speed Dial.

Apparently, there was some concern in the PIMCO offices as to how the piece would read. I am told that they decided to cooperate and figured they would take their chances with what the article had to say.

My father called this morning to see what I thought about it.

It was a curiosity piece, I said.

What does that mean? he asked.

It means, there is no reason that article should have been in the "Business" section. That was purely a NYTimes puff piece. They wanted to show their readership that they are in the know about who is in the know. So it reads like, Hey, there's this cool company you've never heard of and they're really influential! And the guy in charge, well, he's really kooky and fascinating! He has economy-changing ideas while he's standing on his head! He eats coconut doughnuts from the local pastry shop! He paid for his MBA with money he won playing blackjack! And you heard it here first!

My father replied, You know, don't you, that Gross didn't have a sudden realization while doing yoga that the subprimes would collapse the housing market?

Oh? I asked.

Nope. Your brother told him that's what would happen. At least Gross was smart enough to listen.

Allah u Akbar

2009-06-20T18:36:00.006-06:00

Every night, after dark, from the rooftops, the people of Tehran have been shouting "God is great."

Listen. It is extraordinary.

The Twitter feeds out of Tehran say that tonight they are shouting it, still, but that it sounds different. They are screaming. They are--rightfully--angry.

(Was there ever a more important moment to go to divinity school?)

That is why a whole new generation of Iranians, their intelligence insulted, has risen.

2009-06-20T18:21:00.003-06:00

From Roger Cohen's dispatch from Tehran in today's NYTimes.

Read it.

This From The Lede Blog at NYTimes:

2009-06-20T12:02:00.003-06:00

Update | 1:45 p.m. CNN has aired some very disturbing, graphic video* uploaded to Facebook on Saturday, which appears to show a young woman who has been shot, bleeding profusely. A reader of The Lede who sent us this video attached an explanation from another Facebook page, written by someone who says that he was present when this video was shot and describes it like this:

Basij shots to death a young woman in Tehran’s Saturday June 20th protests At 19:05 June 20th Place: Karekar Ave., at the corner crossing Khosravi St. and Salehi st. A young woman who was standing aside with her father watching the protests was shot by a basij member hiding on the rooftop of a civilian house. He had clear shot at the girl and could not miss her. However, he aimed straight her heart. I am a doctor, so I rushed to try to save her. But the impact of the gunshot was so fierce that the bullet had blasted inside the victim’s chest, and she died in less than 2 minutes. The protests were going on about 1 kilometers away in the main street and some of the protesting crowd were running from tear gass used among them, towards Salehi St. The film is shot by my friend who was standing beside me. Please let the world know.

Again, we have no way of knowing when or where the video was shot, or if this reader’s account is accurate, due to the intense restrictions on first-hand reporting imposed on the press inside Iran.

[Ed. Note: The NYTimes includes the link*. Because of the nature of some of the videos I have seen this week, I simply could not look and could not include it. The description alone made me cry.

The Times later updated with this: (WARNING: Please be advised before you click on the link below that these are truly horrifying images.)]

On Revolution and Rule Following

2009-06-19T17:10:00.003-06:00

The piece, by an Iranian student named Shane M., is very good until the last four paragraphs, when it becomes astonishing. The writer paints an image of a country surprised by itself—by its own spirit and audacity and modernity and intellectualism—and by the dramatic pace of change that was supposed to unfold slowly, almost imperceptibly, until it snowballed.

So says Vanessa M. Gezari, writing for DoubleX. She is listed as "journalist and traveler" and speaks eloquently about Iranians being the inheritors of their ancestors' memories.

And her take on the perspective of Shane M. is lovely. But it is Shane M's piece--on what it feels like to be astonished by an unexpected revolution--that is extraordinary. And it is Shane M's piece that maybe starts to gets to the heart of what I have really been wondering about.

Because there have surely been times in my lifetime when one would have expected people to take to the streets. I have referenced some in earlier posts. But the truth is, revolution foments slowly, in its own time.

And, truth be told, we Americans? We are rule-followers.

Whether our original revolution and our origins sprung from the actions of rule-breakers or not, we are hard working, non-singing, non-dancing, God-fearing, sterile, keep-the-yogurt-in-the-fridge, rule followers.

And so, in some perverse way, it stands to reason that the only times we run into the streets and set things ablaze is in drunken celebration of a meaningless victory. Acting out requires intoxicants. Getting intoxicated requires an excuse (like Game 7 of the Stanley Cup).

Things that are sobering are left to the sober. Which is to say, most of us.

This just in from Justice Souter:

2009-06-19T13:31:00.003-06:00

Changes in societal understanding of the fundamental reasonableness of government actions work out in much the same way that individuals reconsider issues of fundamental belief. We can change our own inherited views just so fast, and a person is not labeled a stick-in-the-mud for refusing to endorse a new moral claim without having some time to work through it intellectually and emotionally.

What's On Your Mind? I'll Pull Back the Curtain on Mine. Take a Peek.

2009-06-19T11:54:00.009-06:00

Perhaps two days is already too long for me to be using Twitter as the lens to watch the world unfold?

Glancing through my latest posts reveals that most everything this week would fit into Twitter's 140 character format. Given that I am a girl who is essentially intoxicated by good grammar, great vocabulary, proper spelling, and complete sentences, Twitter is not really the kind of writing I like to rock. But apparently I am highly suggestible.

So I am attempting to stage a literate-posting comeback, by writing in full sentences (or at least deliberately fragmented sentences) and trying to make sense of the world.

I'll start paving the road back with the four questions currently on my mind:

Why is it that Sarah Palin is attempting to reignite the culture wars--at a time when that flame needs fanning the least? And how is that news? Highbrow, lowbrow, or otherwise? (And we know I love a little lowbrow with my highbrow.) As I am generally the first to jump into a feminist fray and point a finger at misogyny and am only slightly repulsed by Letterman's jokes, I repeat the question, what is this about, exactly?

Why is it that in other cultures--the ones we have been trained to think of us as less enlightened than ours--seem to be embracing their voices, engaging with their governments, and challenging their political processes to live up to expectations? How is it that we are not demanding the same?

How is it, too, that the Supreme Court of this country does not see it as a violation of due process to curtail prisoners' access to DNA testing that may exonerate them? While their 5-4 ruling does not completely eliminate all access, it does, according to Lyle Denniston, dramatically narrow the legal foundation on which it may be granted. And the Chief Justice made clear that prisoners are not to be afforded the same rights under the Constitution as other citizens.

While this may make sense to some people, it sure doesn't to me.

And, lastly, I am really curious how it is that I am supposed to pack up 11-plus years of accumulated detritus and take the show on the road. In 38 days. Or less.

Really, nothing major.

Google Translate Adds Farsi

2009-06-19T07:55:00.002-06:00

Now you can follow Farsi tweets. Translate them here.

WSJ: First Person Accounts from Tehran

2009-06-19T07:47:00.000-06:00

Read them here.

Update: Gunfire During Interview

2009-06-17T23:32:00.000-06:00

From CNN.

Update: Robert Fisk on the Ground

2009-06-17T22:35:00.001-06:00

Brings you this, purportedly an official document declaring Moussavi the winner.

Tomorrow's color is black, in honor of those killed thus far.

Update: Look Through The Lens

2009-06-17T20:03:00.000-06:00

NYTimes offers this.

I Wore Green

2009-06-17T19:29:00.015-06:00

Even though I was in Lander, Wyoming I wore green. In solidarity. In protest. In amazement that we did not take to the streets in 2000.

Before the Iranian government pulled down iran.whyweprotest.net their tagline said simply: Even if a ballot is silenced, the voice behind it cannot be.

People were on there at all hours looking for those the government has disappeared, a la Argentina in the 80's (check out Imaging Argentina if you don't know anything about this), and trying to find out where to go. And especially where not to go.

At this point, for more information on what is going on--in real time--get yourself a Twitter account and click on the hashtag #iranelection to view the live feed. Or search YouTube. But beware: there has been more than one video posted of the Basiji assassinating protesters.
And check out Robert Fisk, reportedly the only journalist not heeding the government and still out in the streets getting reports out.

My question: What is it in Iranians that made them take to the streets? In staggering numbers, no less:

In this country, we appear content to sit on our couches and let politicians and judges determine our outcomes. We are rule followers, more likely to take to the streets if our hometown team wins a championship than if there is a violation of the Constitution.

How can that be?

[Ed. Note: iran.whyweprotest.net is back online.]

Michael Lewis Explains Why It Is All Still A Mess. (Can you say "Goldman Sachs"?)

2009-06-13T11:03:00.004-06:00

Peter Schiff Is Back. And Still Right.

2009-06-11T00:07:00.000-06:00

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart

Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c

Peter Schiff

thedailyshow.com

Daily Show
Full Episodes

Political Humor

Newt Gingrich Unedited Interview

Yuh-huh!

2009-06-08T18:18:00.002-06:00

Who doesn't love cupcakes? I mean, really? (Sort of like Bon Jovi.) Who doesn't love cupcakes???

The World Can Change in an Instant

2009-06-04T13:28:00.006-06:00

The angle tells the tale.

Watching the tanks roll up and stop in front of the lone man brave enough to stand his ground was extraordinary. Even though the photos of the event are gripping, maybe I was too young to appreciate it.

Or maybe the photos didn't quite tell the tale. The photos we all saw were shot from above. And almost sterile as a result. (Not that I blame the photos for being outside the line of fire.)

But this.

This photograph is extraordinary. And the fact that this photog could see what was unfolding, hearing the bullets whizzing and the tanks rolling, the fact that he only had time to snap the shutter once before ducking to safety makes all the more clear how profound the act of bravery across the street really was. And is.

Talk about food envy.

2009-06-03T09:45:00.008-06:00

This might be my all-time favorite NYTimes headline:

It's a Cupcake Truck. Need We Say More?

Needless to say, we do not have a cupcake truck out here in Wyoming. We don't even have an ice cream truck. (We do have a guy with a really, really heavy tricycle and a cooler full of ice cream strapped to the front. And a bell.)

But if we did have a cupcake truck, can you imagine it? The cupcake truck would operate for something like 60 days a year, debuting on July 4th and closing up shop by Labor Day. (That is the only snow-free window in these parts.) I can just picture the cupcake truck racing the non-existent ice cream truck to get to the "good spots".

(Though, the entire image does raise some serious questions: Are the "good spots" the same for the cupcake and ice cream vendors? Is there some amount of effective cross-promotion to be done? You know, the usual capitalist questions.)

On a cupcake-related note: I am heartened by the sudden appearance of chocolate cupcakes with buttercream frosting at a local coffee shop. Worth noting that I now frequent said coffee shop.

While we are on the subject of commencement speeches...

2009-06-01T16:03:00.007-06:00

YOU ARE BRILLIANT, AND THE EARTH IS HIRING
The Unforgettable Commencement Address to the Class of 2009,
University of Portland, May 3rd, 2009
By Paul Hawken

When I was invited to give this speech, I was asked if I could give a simple short talk that was "direct, naked, taut, honest, passionate, lean, shivering, startling, and graceful". Boy, no pressure there. But let's begin with the startling part. Hey, Class of 2009: you are going to have to figure out what it means to be a human being on earth at a time when every living system is declining, and the rate of decline is accelerating. Kind of a mind-boggling situation - but not one peer-reviewed paper published in the last thirty years can refute that statement.

Basically, the earth needs a new operating system, you are the programmers, and we need it within a few decades. This planet came with a set of operating instructions, but we seem to have misplaced them. Important rules like don't poison the water, soil, or air, and don't let the earth get overcrowded, and don't touch the thermostat have been broken.

Buckminster Fuller said that spaceship earth was so ingeniously designed that no one has a clue that we are on one, flying through the universe at a million miles per hour, with no need for seatbelts, lots of room in coach, and really good food - but all that is changing.

There is invisible writing on the back of the diploma you will receive, and in case you didn't bring lemon juice to decode it, I can tell you what it says: YOU ARE BRILLIANT, AND THE EARTH IS HIRING. The earth couldn't afford to send any recruiters or limos to your school. It sent you rain, sunsets, ripe cherries, night blooming jasmine, and that unbelievably cute person you are dating. Take the hint.

You can read the rest of the speech here.

Paul Hawken is a renowned entrepreneur, visionary environmental activist, and author of many books, most recently Blessed Unrest: How the Largest Movement in the World Came into Being and Why No One Saw It Coming. He was presented with an honorary doctorate of humane letters by University president Father Bill Beauchamp, C. S.C., in May, when he delivered this superb speech.

Let the commencements commence.

2009-05-31T11:20:00.011-06:00

Friday night I attended the graduation of a friend's son.

There were 13 graduates in the 3rd graduating class of his small private school and the commencement speaker delivered something akin to the it's-all-really-awful-but-you'll-be-okay speech so prevalent this season that the NYTimes discusses them here.

The speaker rounded up all the usual suspects and referenced them: The Great Depression, Bill Gates, at least one war, Malcolm Gladwell, the new economy, and the price of gas when he graduated high school (he claimed it was 18 cents, in case you were wondering, and apparently either peanuts were free or Peanuts was a brand-new comic strip, I guess I could have paid better attention). He then issued several shameless plugs for his restaurant, his wife, and his son's restaurant before offering some platitudes and signing off.

Now, I am a sucker for a graduation speech. A good one. Mostly because they are few and far between.

After years of attending graduations, I have developed my own short list and quick tips for commencement speakers. (Too late for the speaker in question, but it could still come in handy for you.)

Shorter is better. Topical references are only effective if they are recognizable and ring true. Lay off the cliches; we call them cliches for a reason. If you are nerdy, don't try to be hip. If you are hip, don't try to be cerebral. Study Harry Callahan and if you are guided by nothing else, remember this: A man's got to know his limitations. Know yours. And stay within them.

His speech was not stellar. And though it was relatively brief, he was heavy on cliches, and broke the Callahan rule. Alas.

Lest you think that I am only critical, I bring you this. John Legend's excellent speech at UPenn's graduation. It is authentic, soulful, exceptional. (And follows all the rules.) Check it out:

May we all go forth and care.

Weighing in on Kate

2009-05-27T10:24:00.022-06:00

For those of you not familiar with my proclivities, I have a bit of a highbrow-lowbrow streak. I like my wine from the box or else from your fancy cellar, please. My beer from the cask at the small batch brewery or else pass me that PBR tall-boy, would you? I like my cow either as a Happy Meal or a Pittsburgh rare, hand-cut, aged sirloin, hollandaise on the side.

This tendency extends to everything. And that includes my consumption of information. Which means that the two women on my mind right now are Sonia Sotomayor and Kate Gosselin.

Yes, I was one of the 9.8M people who watched the season premiere of Jon & Kate Plus 8 on Monday. Yes, I have read every word since scribed on the internets (here and here and here among others). Yes, I called my mom when it was over to parse the state of Jon & Kate's marriage. Yes, I understand that this makes me a lowbrow voyeur of inexplicable proportions. I know.

But the thing is, I can't stop watching.

Now, I would be the last person to attempt to defend this sort of base behavior (that and conducting conference calls in my pajamas from my bed are among my only two vices), but, in my defense, I get my love of really bad tv from my father, along with my smart mouth, brown eyes, and the highbrow-lowbrow thing mentioned above. It is genetic. And therefore inescapable. Would you have me go against nature? I think not. So back to Kate Gosselin.

I don't imagine that many of you reading this indulge in such reality-tv watching and should therefore skip to the piece on Judge Sotomayor. But for those of you who do (or want to watch me shamelessly parsing someone else's life), read on.

Here's the thing: Jon and Kate are 32 and 34. They have 8 kids under 9. 2 are 9, 6 are 5. That's a lot to handle. No matter what. Throw in some fame, a couple of tabloids, some paparazzi outside The Party Store in Reading, PA, and you have yourselves the trappings of an oncoming train wreck. (And, as we know, I tend to default to my friend Brian's sage advice: Sometimes you just have to set up the chairs and watch the train wreck.) Now, don't get me wrong, I am a reality-tv voyeur, not an accident gaper. I do not relish the spontaneous combustion of their marriage.

In fact, I watched the show for the opposite reason: It gave me hope. I figured that if they could do it with 8, I could manage one or two. Sure, I realized that they had extra help and extra hands and even if the cameraman was not part of the family or officially sanctioned to watch the kids, there were still extra adult eyes around, meaning that they could do things my friends with kids and no help can't. Like shower.

So, mostly, I am sad for them for these quasi-fictional people I will never meet (though I have friends near Reading, so it is not outside of the realm of possibility that I could bump into Kate at The Party Store); sad that their marriage is blowing out for all the world to see. But I have to confess: I am also a little relieved. When you pull back the curtain, it turns out the wizard is just a man.

Weighing In on Sonia

2009-05-27T08:49:00.021-06:00

My father has instilled many things in me. Competitive spirit. Disdain for stupidity. Overzealousness about college basketball. Love of the Supreme Court of the United States of America at a level to qualify me as a Shameless Supreme Court Groupie (SSCG).

This is a great time of year for us SSCG's, what with all the decisions coming out and Nina Totenberg talking to us all the time. It is especially gripping this year with a replacement coming for Justice Souter. Yesterday, President Obama announced the appointment of Sonia Sotomayor, sitting Second Circuit judge, Yale Law graduate, and Latina, as his choice to replace Souter. Already, there has been much adieu.

Yesterday's to-do had me wondering, is there a dog whistle for interest groups that is too high pitched for my regular ears? Because the very announcement sent people running--at a dead sprint--to their respective ideological corners, steeling themselves for pitched battle. Perhaps they envision it as a "battle in the heavens, between good and evil" like Reza Aslan talks about in his new book?

And while I would be the first to tell you how critical this appointment is, how the Supreme Court has a greater ability to impact what happens to you in your daily life than either of the other two branches of government (for proof, check out yesterday's ruling in Montejo v. Louisiana vacating both Michigan v. Jackson and your Sixth Amendment rights), I am not willing to escalate the whole thing into the cosmic realm.

But I did want more information about who she is and how she thinks. So I did what I do: I scoured the net.

In reading through the articles in the NYTimes (also here and here and here) and The Daily Beast (TDB very nicely coalesces all theirs in one user-friendly url) and hearing from my two fav SSCGs, I still felt like I lacked objective information. The NYTimes has papers to sell; their agenda is seducing my intellect so they can charge their advertisers more and get Carlos Slim off their backs. The Daily Beast has, essentially, the same agenda, just modified for the blogosphere (and minus Mr Slim).

My father, for his part, gets his information from tv news, all the while condemning the Times (they publish "all the news that fits," he likes to say) and stubbornly refusing to acknowledge that the networks need to sell ads just as much as the Times. (His wholesale admiration for the Nightly News makes me think he tunes in, pretends the Korean War is just over, Julia Child is an American sensation in Paris, Walter Cronkite is new on the scene, and all is right with the world. But I digress.)

In any event, the best information I have found so far comes to us from Scotusblog.com. There you can find impartial information, including this listing of Judge Sotomayor's major rulings. Of the 150 opinions she has authored since joining the Second Circuit in 1998, only two (soon to be three) have been overturned by the SCOTUS.

The third case, the one likely to be overturned, is Ricci v. DiStefano, a New Haven, CT case on affirmative action. The SCOTUS issued a certiorari brief and is reviewing it. Dad thinks they will vacate 9-0. I am guessing it's a 5-4 kind of case. That said, since the judgment was unsigned and the decision unpublished it is hard to say what the grounds were and what the basis for the upcoming decision will be.

It is safe to say that the special interests and the SSCG's will be watching, that we will have the decision before the hearings, and that it will surely have an impact on her confirmation.

Listen to Ted. He Knows What He's Talking About.

2009-05-23T23:17:00.013-06:00

In today's Room for Debate in the NYTimes comes this conversation.

The debate on whether or not the decision to allow guns in the National Parks was safe, scary or just a sideshow was headlined by our own Ted Kerasote who lives and hunts and hikes and writes and works within the borders of Grand Teton National Park. He makes an eloquent point about why guns should not be allowed in National Parks. Living here lends a different perspective.

The sort of fear mongering the lovely NRA woman offers in the piece has no place in the conversation, really. That sort of take on things makes panicky people like me not more panicky, but instead more pissed off. Because what she is peddling is inflammatory nonsense. Ted is right: pepper spray is far more effective than a .44 to fend off any sort of angry critter. Guns in parks make no one safer--least of all the animals who are now more likely to lose their lives to poachers.

And, quite frankly, the same pepper spray might have served to keep the NRA woman's friend just as safe as any gun.

Welcome Summer! Let's Hope It Snows.

2009-05-23T11:02:00.011-06:00

No less than three times each day I think, That would be a good blog post.

And approximately that many times each day, someone who reads this blog then listens to a story of mine and says, That would be a good blog post.

And still, lately, not much of my life is making it into my blog.

Lord knows, it is not for lack of eventfulness. Or ridiculous happenings. In fact, the ridiculousness has accelerated. A fabulous new-age friend says it is because Mercury is in Retrograde.

I think it is because the sun is out and everyone here in Jackson has rushed outside to play. And in doing so, is accidentally airing their dirty laundry. Because the cabin fever that is every winter makes us squint in the full light of sun. So what we have inadvertently dragged out of hiding with us is just now becoming apparent as our mole-eyes adjust to the light.

So perhaps the weather here is actually benevolent: it sees our potential humiliation and sends us scrambling back indoors with a late-season snow squall or two. When we get in there, we realize that our vulnerabilities were showing. That we had tracked them into the town square like a piece of toilet paper stuck to our collective shoe. The retreat back inside allows us the chance to emerge in a more graceful Take Two.

But while the sun is still shining, be on the lookout for some crazy near you.

A Brief Run Down

2009-05-17T23:55:00.012-06:00

Raked the yard. Threw down grass seed. Moved rocks. Discovered that the coal car I thought was junky is a piece of art. (It is all in the looking.)

Dogs walked. Dogs swam. Dogs ran. Dogs stole balls and sticks. Dogs slept. Are sleeping now.

An old, old friend came in from SoCal. We saw geysers. Got a speeding ticket. (48 in a 25.) Drank PBR. Heard there was an earthquake in L.A. (5.0) Ate sushi rolled by the wife of another friend from high school. Who knew there were so many Peddie grads in Jackson, Wyoming?

I got sunburned. Like something out of a Noxema commercial. Took photos and photos and more photos. (Hence the new banner. My friend is a photog.)

We talked old times and new times and babies and rental cars and religion and the relative merits of film v. digital and iPhone v. Canon. (The new banner is a product of my iPhone.)

Tomorrow: Gros Ventre, Phillip Morris, senior projects, Dornan's, the full wrath of the sunburn.

Sitting Here In Limbo

2009-05-15T07:56:00.005-06:00

Why the derivative posts? you ask. Or, perhaps, We understand that you learned to embed videos, strong work! Why do they come without commentary? Where is the snarky-yet-cogent commentary?

Well, with this author in a sort of professional and existential limbo, what was in my brain could oft not be on the blog. So I kept my mouth shut. But found, repeatedly, that when I went to write--went to note my navel-gazing for your presumed reading pleasure--that there would be an inevitable reference I would have to squelch. A reference that I really shouldn't be making. Not until the cat was out of the bag. And that, in turn, seemed to suck the life right out of the writing.

I am pleased to report, dear readers, that my boss-lady now knows that I am headed to Nashville! So be on the look-out for the terrified musings that accompany this impending sea change.

Good Artists Copy. Great Artists Steal.

2009-05-09T20:41:00.004-06:00

According to Steve Jobs, Picasso said that.

(via metacool)