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A letter to my children (that I'm posting for all the world to see!)

this is a blog post I wrote in March 2017, but didn't publish. I read this again this morning and decided there's no time like the present to remind all of us, what is at stake in our 2020 Presidential election. 


Dear Michael, Matthew and Delaney -

Do you remember when Mom went on a bus with about 40 other women to Washington D.C. for the Million Mom March? I was upset with the the mass shootings at places like Columbine High School, and I wanted to do something, anything to make the world a better place for the three-not-so-little Piggins. I called home as the bus was pulling into DC and one of you, I can't remember, said something like, "Have you started marching yet?" I held back my laugh and tried to explain that this 'march' didn't actually mean 'marching'. 

Growing up in a home where Mom and Dad supported different political parties meant you grew up listening to political dialogue that wasn't always pleasant but never personal. We listened to NPR in the car and you knew that Wednesday night at 8 p.m. was Mom's time to watch West Wing. On Sundays, we always watched 60 Minutes. And I'm fairly certain that when you were in the car with Dad (if you weren't listening to sports!) he'd have you listen to Rush Limbaugh.

Well, today, I want to alternately apologize to you or encourage you about politics.

I want to apologize first for this past Presidential election. Your upbringing did nothing to prepare you for the ugliness and lies. When you grew up watching the Bartlett administration on West Wing you saw that despite disagreeing on issues there was respect for another's viewpoint. Listening to NPR, you heard issues being discussed and opposing viewpoints given time as well. And on 60 Minutes, you witnessed journalism at it's finest and truth taking precedence. You grew up knowing that in a campaign, lies would ultimately be exposed and the candidate would be held accountable for those lies.

Well, there wasn't respect for opposing viewpoints. At times, in fact, Mr. Trump resorted to name-calling. Often in fact - Lying Ted, Crooked Hillary, Little Rubio, Low Energy Jeb. His grasp of issues was limited so the dialogue was filled with self-aggrandizing statements like, "Trust me, I know" or "I am the most successful". And when asked about something he said or did, Mr. Trump would flat-out deny it - despite audio or video proof to the contrary. And journalists focused on the headlines or sound-bites, despite there being plenty of half-reported stories about both of the candidates. Like, the rape charges against our future President? Or what is the news behind the law suit against Trump University? Or his tax return? (And now we the American people are actually going to be paying his salary for four years, lifetime health insurance and pension of a former President - and he's proud that he hasn't paid taxes??)

I digress. I want to apologize that a man who has assaulted and degraded women will now be the Commander in Chief. (Though that's nothing new, but we didn't have the video and audio proof before Bill Clinton was elected). I want to apologize that a man who has limited understanding of our Constitution will be in a position to shred it.

But mostly today, I want to encourage you. I want to encourage you to get involved in either politics or a cause that is important to you - I want to encourage you to find your passion and get involved. Only 43 percent of eligible voters exercised their right to cast a vote in our last Presidential election, and many said they didn't because they didn't think their vote would count or they thought Ms. Clinton was a 'shoe-in'. (Not an uncommon thought in November)
And that latter assumption, did indeed make asses of you and me. Be involved, children, and please don't be discouraged.

Comments

It's not a popularity contest, but ...

When an ass is so much more

  Body image. Body positivity.  Or about coming to an appreciation for a previously much maligned back end.  In junior high (that's middle school for all of you non boomers), I was given the nickname "big butt Bowen". It was a nickname that stung because I did indeed have a large ass. I tried to mask it, a difficult endeavor since the current fashion (and remember this is junior high when fitting in was paramount) was wearing hip hugger jeans with midriff tops and my disguise of choice were peasant blouses or dresses. That style choice earned an additional nickname, Mama Cass. For those of you that don't know who Mama Cass was, she was part of the Mamas and Papas and known for her beautiful voice but also for her large body.  All about Mama Cass I was cruelly nicknamed at a time when nicknames can really mess with a girl's psyche. And I spent a lifetime as that girl with the messed up psyche. I'm sure there are more than one of you out there that can relate. B

Peter Pan no more

                          It's time. Peter Pan had to grow up.  For nearly 18 months of his life, Matthew dressed in this costume. In this picture it's new, just out of the box. He picked the costume out of a catalog and when it arrived, two weeks prior to Halloween, he asked daily if today was the day he could finally wear his Peter Pan costume. He didn't like the hat and only wore it on Halloween, but the rest of the costume he wore daily! You read that correctly - DAILY. He wore it to Meijer (for those of you unfamiliar with Meijer, it's a cleaner, friendlier, more 'upscale' version of WalMart), to church, to play dates and preschool ... Heck, he was three and adorable and it worked for him!  (Yes you read that correctly, he even wore it to church on one or two occasions when it seemed arguing with a three year old about not wearing a costume to church was not a battle worth waging. He once mentioned the priests wore dresses . . . I don't think Joh

Cabin fever made me do it!

Like nearly ever person in West Michigan, I have a serious case of cabin fever.  I won't waste your time however, complaining about the two-hundred feet of snow that's fallen in the last two hours. I won't share about the twenty or thirty times I've had to shovel my walk today as gusts blew it right back in my face. And I certainly will not lament about the temperatures that hover around negative double digits making your nostrils freeze together within moments of stepping outside. To bore you with tales of how we have to shovel areas in our yard so that our large dog and can do his 'duty' because the snow is deeper than he is tall and dogs for whatever reason cannot poop in the same place twice, is not what I will share. You will not hear about how when I open the slider to let aforementioned dog outside, gusts of wind blow drifts of snow inside and require a shovel to once again close the door.  Nor will I share how some roads around here are drifted shut be