The Road to Hell is Littered with This Entry

This is the paperback version

There's a meme going around on Facebook. Reach for the book closest to you, go to page 56, the fifth line down on the page, and post it in your status. Then post the rules of play in a comment.
           In my bedroom, where I was, and now sit, I have a bookcase with five shelves. Only one has books on it. The others have cameras, pictures, magazines with articles I've written, stationery, and a collection of leatherbound journals with blank pages. Most of my books are in the living room, which would be the size of a library in a bigger house. I even painted it forest green. Wood shutters give the place a Ralph Lauren look, if you squint your eyes and pretend a lot. Since I don't have a library now or in the foreseeable future, the living room has become the book depository, lined up two deep in built-in shelves across one wall, and a seven-foot tall, freestanding bookcase by the kitchen. About a thousand of them.
          Back in the bedroom, the book closest to me was The Company, subtitled: A Novel of the CIA, by Robert Littell. It's in my bedroom because I've been meaning to read it for years. Unfortunately, it's old school, in hardcover, almost 900 pages, so to slog through a tome of that size would not only be an assault on my mental faculties, but my physical ones, too. The result being that I haven't even cracked the spine, until this evening. And only because when I reached, it was, by about an inch, closest to me as I sat writing at my computer. 
          Page 56, line 5 reads: "This exasperated Leo. 'This pacifism of yours plays right into Stalin's hands.'" I think I've read that same line in twenty-seven other spy books. I googled an image of the book to upload, hoping to find one with the same cover as mine, but had to settle for a paperback version. I noticed there was a movie adaptation as I scrolled through the choices. Oh yes, I vaguely remember something with Chris O'Donnell and Michael Keaton. 
          The point of all this is that the book sitting right next to it, which I also could have picked, but decided not to, was the Bible. The only reason I still have a Bible in the house is because I think it would be bad karma to dispose of it. Plus, it is a good reference book, after all. 
          With karma in mind, and well aware of the irony, I decided to go to page 56, line 5 to see what was written in the Bible. The first thing that surprised me was that the pages were numbered. I didn't remember that.
          The next surprise was discovering that this Bible was the Revised Standard Version I got in high school and used in college, back when I used to spell my first name Judee. That's what was written with my maiden name on the inside front cover. Born again Christians, of which I was one for a time, read the Revised Standard Version [RSV], a translation into colloquial English from the stilted King James version. At least they did back when I was one of them. Now the Bible they use probably has a forward by Glenn Beck. And don't get me started on Billy Graham, Jr. 
          Page 56 is the first page of Exodus. Or as it says a the top: The Second Book of Moses, commonly called EXODUS. The fifth line just lists the names of three of Jacob's sons, not very scintillating, as Bible passages go. Certainly not worth a mention here. 
          Because all freshmen were required to take a year of religion at Duke, taught by professors who were also ordained ministers, there are passages underlined throughout the Old and the New Testament. Or first and second semester as we called it back then. So I have decided to share a different line instead, one from the same page, but underlined for its importance at the time. 
          Then Pharaoh commanded all his people, "Every son that is born to the Hebrews you shall cast into the Nile, but you shall let every daughter live." An entire feminist tract could be written about that decree. By the way, the quotations aren't mine. They were in the Bible. For some reason, I don't remember page numbers or quotation marks in the Bible. Just who wrote down those verbatim quotes, Josephus?
          Curious, I looked up the King James' Version. And Pharaoh charged all his people, saying, Every son that is born ye shall cast into the river, and every daughter ye shall save alive. Not as gobble-de-gook as some King James passages. 
         Either way, the backstory of Moses begins. 
         Remembering those religious days of yore -- mine, not the biblical ones -- I began to recall how so many of the Christian adults in my life were overcome by issues of sexual misconduct. One of the rock solid leaders from my high school days in Young Life, was an incredible man we all loved, who, one day, felt the need to confess how he was constantly fighting the demons of adultery in his marriage. TMI. As a sidebar, Young Life's successful fifty-year ministry in high schools across the country may be the main reason for the surge of fundamentalists who elected George Bush and insured the rise of Sarah Palin. I do know that telling the right people you were involved in Young Life is still as good as a password into a secret club.
         Shortly after high school graduation, the married minister of my Episcopal Church ran off with a Wrigley heiress, who was also married. A father of four, who bore a remarkable resemblance to Bill Clinton, he also had Clinton's appetites too. Many female members of the parish could only hope [and pray] he wouldn't write his memoirs. 
         A denomination not well known for taking Jesus as its Savior, Episcopalians tend to prefer the wine [usually a good sherry] and wafer route, intellectualizing their relationship with God, Christ, and the Holy Ghost with study groups and Dartmouth Bibles. Count me out.
         Later I married into the Catholic Church, thinking for some reason, how different could it be? Let's just say that pedophile priests are the tip of the iceberg. The human infrastructure of that particular faith is rotted out from top to bottom in my experience. 
         I knew my days in organized religion were numbered when I began to entertain notions that many would consider heresy. Was Jesus married? Was he gay? This was before all the Mary Magdelene questions. And jokes about Jesus being over thirty and unmarried. I even wondered what the deal was with Kaballah, since I have Jewish friends whom I admire and respect, although most of them aren't religious and couldn't tell me anything about it. 
         On reflection I have felt more spiritual standing inside a religious building, just being there, than I ever have when there were people trying to orchestrate the moment. Who doesn't get a better sense of a higher power, sitting on a deck in Montana, looking at the mountains? Or sailing past a beautiful city skyline at sunset, flying over the Grand Canyon, or holding a baby's tiny hand?
         Funny how taking a book down off a shelf can shake the cobwebs of your mind.

 The breathtaking Bahai Temple 10 miles from my house

Quit Bitching about Teachers' Salaries

To all the jerkwads in Wisconsin who are moaning and groaning because teachers are costing so much taxpayer money. 

     Supposedly teachers' hefty salaries are driving up taxes, and they only work 9 or 10 months a year! It's time we put things in perspective and pay them for what they do - babysit!

    And we can get people to do that for less than minimum wage.

     That's right. Let's give teachers $3.00 an hour and only for the hours they work; not any of that silly planning time, or any time they spend before or after school. That would be $19.50 a day (from 7:45 to 3:00 PM with 45 minutes for lunch and plan-- that equals 6 1/2 hours).

     Each parent should pay $19.50 a day for these teachers to baby-sit their children. Now how many students do they teach in a day...maybe 30? So that's $19.50 x 30 = $585.00 a day.

     However, remember they only work 180 days a year!!! I am not going to pay them for any vacations.

    
     LET'S SEE...That's $585 X 180 = $105,300 per year. (Hold on! My calculator needs new batteries).

     What about those special education teachers and the ones with Master's degrees? Well, we could pay them minimum wage ($7.75), and just to be fair, round it off to $8.00 an hour. That would be $8 X 6 1/2 hours X 30 children X 180 days = $280,800 per year.

Wait a minute -- there's something wrong here! There sure is!

     The average teacher's salary (nationwide) is $50,000. $50,000/180 days = $277.77/per day/30 students = $9.25/6.5 hours = $1.42 per hour per student--a very inexpensive baby-sitter and they even EDUCATE your kids! WHAT A DEAL!!!!

REPOSTED FROM FACEBOOK -- PASS IT ON!

Mrs. Linklater Versus The Republicans

As a public service, Mrs. Linklater very carefully addresses the Top Ten Stupid Things Republicans Want To Do To Women: 
          1) Republicans not only want to reduce women's access to abortion care, they're actually trying to redefine rape. After a major backlash, they promised to stop. But they haven't yet.
          In an effort to break this logjam, Mrs. Linklater suggests redefining rape to include:
a] anytime he takes a girl's virginity at a homecoming dance, in a parked car, or on the back stairs of a club
b] anytime he has sex with a girl and doesn't know her last name
c] anytime he leaves an STD behind
d] anytime he impregnates a female who is working on her GED, babysits for a living, can't rent a car, or still lives at home
e] anytime he impregnates a woman who didn't sign up to have his baby even though he told her             
           i] you can't get pregnant the first time 
           ii] he's shooting blanks 
           iii] it won't matter this once 
           iv] c'mon, it feels better without a condom

2) A state legislator in Georgia wants to change the legal term for victims of rape, stalking, and domestic violence to "accuser." But victims of other less gendered crimes, like burglary, would remain "victims."

Mrs. Linklater would like to change the legal term for rapist to dead man walking.  

3) In South Dakota, Republicans proposed a bill that could make it legal to murder a doctor who provides abortion care.

Mrs. Linklater would like to make it legal to kill deadbeat dads. And fathers who abandon their children. And let's fire up the electric chair for any guy who harms his pregnant girlfriend/wife. 

4) Republicans want to cut nearly a billion dollars of food and other aid to low-income pregnant women, mothers, babies, and kids. 

Mrs. Linklater says that won't be necessary if we get rid of the $1.2 billion in direct farm subsidies handed out every year to people who don't even farm. And use the $200,000 in change for crayons and healthy snacks. 

5) In Congress, Republicans have a bill that would let hospitals allow a woman to die rather than perform an abortion necessary to save her life. 

To offer a similar, though less deadly, opportunity to fathers, Mrs. Linklater thinks it should be legal to require a baby daddy with children by more than three women to submit to a vasectomy without anesthetic. And let his baby mamas scream at him on Maury.

6) Maryland Republicans ended all county money for a low-income kids' preschool program. Why? No need, they said. Women should really be home with the kids, not out working. 

Mrs. Linklater thinks there should be an exception to that bill which would require the mothers of all the Maryland legislators' children to stay home with the kids and make do on his $43,500 salary. And if, by some mistake, the legislator is a woman, her husband should have to quit his day job to cook, clean and carpool for the kiddies. Or he can have a lobotomy instead.

7) At the federal level, Republicans want to cut that same program, Head Start, by $1 billion. That means over 200,000 kids could lose their spots in preschool.

Instead, Mrs. L suggests let's cut $1 billion from the $48 billion in IRS homeowner subsidies for families with incomes above $100,000. Or wait, how about $1 billion from the $4 billion handed over to the oil companies every year to cover their lunches with Congressmen. 

8) Two-thirds of the elderly poor are women, and Republicans are taking aim at them too. A spending bill would cut funding for employment services, meals, and housing for senior citizens.

Mrs. Linklater wonders why the Republicans don't just make it legal to take them out and shoot 'em. 

9) Congress just voted for a Republican amendment to cut all federal funding from Planned Parenthood health centers, one of the most trusted providers of basic health care and family planning in our country. 

Not to worry, Mrs. Linklater will introduce a bill requiring DNA from every male to insure that each one of their spawn has a dad who will be legally responsible for feeding, clothing, and schooling the fruits of their loins from birth through college. 

10) And if that wasn't enough, Republicans are pushing to eliminate all funds for the only federal family planning program. (For humans. But Republican Dan Burton has a bill to provide contraception for wild horses).

Mrs. Linklater is curious why Republicans are so concerned about having safe sex with horses. Or did she miss something?

PARENTS! Watch your daughters or this future Republican could take advantage of them!
http://www.theonion.com/video/towns-teenpregnancy-spike-due-to-one-impressive-yo,19275/

Update

Just an update on the high school reunion guy. For some reason, I woke up last Sunday wondering why I was planning to have lunch again with a someone who:
          1. Sent me an email invite to have lunch after fifty years, when we had barely been acquaintances in high school. He said it could be the date we never had, but should have, making it sound like he was single. The date thing was news to me. And I thought a bit presumptuous, but flattery won out. 
          2. Never bothered to tell me he was married -- not once during our lunch, even though he mentioned a former second wife. I found out he was on wife number three afterward, when he posted a profile on our reunion website.
          3. Began to email me several times following lunch with newsy reports of what he was doing on his work trip to Europe. Yes, we had agreed to have lunch another time when he came back from his travels. One of those "Let's do this again" things. But this was behavior of someone you're dating. Not someone you have lunch with once every fifty years. Who is MARRIED.
          4. Told me in an email that he'd had a "row" with his third wife, who accused him of trolling for a fourth. No backstory. No explanation. Why in the world was he sharing this with me? Was I part of the trolling? Did he, in fact, actually know his true motivation for contacting me? I have received phone calls from former boyfriends after many years of silence. I always assume it's because their marriages are this close to going down the tubes. I sometimes wonder if they even realize it. And I'd never had a date with this guy.
          5. Said he thought feminism was sexist. In a reply to one of his emails that mentioned lunch, I said that, as a feminist, I would be happy to pay for my own lunch. Instead of kidding with me and suggesting I pay for both our lunches or something, he has to tell me he thinks feminism is sexist. My response, "Eat shit and die."  Kidding.
          So, all these transgressions had piled up and started to simmer as the days and weeks passed, until I woke up and realized, "Nope. Whatever this is, is over."
          Here's the letter I wrote to say adios:
          When I got up this morning, I realized I am not looking forward to having lunch with you again. I think it has taken time for my sense of integrity to catch up with what's going on here. Mostly I'm wondering, WTF is going on here? 

I was amused when you contacted me, although somewhat puzzled/annoyed about your date comment -- the date you said we never had, but should have. It seemed quite presumptuous, but I let it ride. Also, as I mentioned at the time, I wouldn't ordinarily have lunch with someone I barely knew in school and hadn't seen for fifty years. Hey, we're old. What's the point?

But the date comment still rankles, first because it never occurred to me that we shoulda/woulda/coulda had a date in high school. We never ran in the same circles. And secondly, the comment made it sound as though you were single. After I learned you were on your third marriage, it became extremely inappropriate in retrospect. 

On a side note, lest you think I don't have married men friends, let me disabuse you of that. My best friend [man or woman] for over thirty years was married. I was visiting him and his wife and family at one of their homes practically every other weekend. With my kids, a boyfriend, or by myself. He died five years ago and I still miss Sunday morning breakfasts arguing over what's in the New York Times. 

You also made a second comment about having a row with wife number three, who accused you of trolling for wife number four. Talk about too much information. And inappropriate information at that. 

Another issue is one you may or may not understand. I hardly knew you in school. So it was a little disconcerting to have lunch, agree to have another lunch sometime -- sometime being the operative word for me -- and then start getting all manner of emails like we were dating. I didn't sign up for the newsletter. 

My point being that every relationship has its distance, especially in the beginning, whether it's with a woman or a man. If I'd had lunch with some woman from our class who barely knew me back in the day, and she started emailing me about her travels while she was on business, I'd back off really fast. Because honestly, I don't give a shit, unless there's a funny story, an interesting piece of information I would like, or at least something relevant to ME. 

But more importantly, I take a long time to get to know people -- years in some cases -- before I feel like being friends. Too bad we're so close to death.

I originally thought having lunch another time could be interesting. I like good food. I enjoy people who have led interesting lives, and have stories to tell. I like to be amused. 

However, the first thing that comes to mind when I think of you is money. And generally that's not a compelling attraction for me. Especially if it's inherited. And having money, making money, spending money, and giving money away seem to be top of mind with you. 

That's when I realized that your money was the only reason I would be having lunch. To pick your brain for ideas for funding. I'm sure that's not what you had in mind.  

Plus I am a feminist. Not because of any books I've read or meetings I've attended. Because I've lived it. It probably started when I couldn't play Little League, even though I was the best baseball player in our neighborhood. Then there was the night I found myself talking to a stupid ball player who was getting a free education to play football at Duke, while I had busted my buns to get in, so my parents could pay through the nose.  Or the day I got hired with more experience for less money than the guy they hired on the same day, in the same position. Plus he got business cards. And I didn't. Not to mention the good times a divorced mom can have from the day she gets out of her marriage and starts raising a first grader and her little sister alone.

So I hardly appreciated your gratuitous comment about feminism being sexist. I found that quite insensitive, not to mention as ignorant as using the "n" word. 

Perhaps you can understand, after reading all this, I think another lunch would be all right, but only if you brought your wife to meet me, and I am able to pay my own way. Otherwise, see you at the reunion. 

Needless to say, he opted out.

I Got Nothing

I don't feel like writing much. Maybe because I'm all tapped out. When I've got a lot of writing at work, I get my fix that way. Short of sharing what it's like to compose witty and clever pieces while sipping juice and hot chocolate at Starbuck's, there's not much going on. I get my current extracurricular thrills from grocery shopping and watching Hulu and Netflix. So I guess that means it's time to reach into the way back machine. 
          Wa-a-a-ay back when he was a senior at Dartmouth, my first boyfriend told me the CIA had been on campus. Apparently he was a prime target for their recruitment affection. If you look at the history of the intelligence services, they started out as part of an extensive old boy network throughout the Ivy League schools, Harvard and Yale in particular. Apparently anyone else was too plebian. Of course, this was back in the old days when US spies were all white, Anglo-Saxon Protestant men. But times change and these days they're all white, Anglo-Saxon Protestant men. Okay, except for Valerie Plume, or Plame, whatever her name is. 
          I'm sure the attraction was because he was fluent in Spanish and English. Back then, people who spoke symptom-free Spanish and English were as rare as people who can double up on Farsi and English now. [Remember those pathetic requests for Farsi speakers scrolling across the bottom of our TV screens after 9/11? Please call 1-800-FBI-HELP] Plus, when my bf was recruited, Castro had only recently overthrown Cuba, so plans to take him out with Spanish speaking commandos were no doubt at the top of the CIA's list of to-do's.   
          Ironically, his Spanish skills didn't matter in the end, because after his tour of Vietnam, he settled in Paris, speaking froggy. His business in Paris had a name that sounded like one of those black ops groups, so when I heard about it much later, I figured he had joined The Company and that was his cover. Plus I heard he was often traipsing off to the interior of Africa. Unfortunately, after contracting the most virulent form of malaria in the jungle, while on some covert mission no doubt, he died of a massive seizure when he was only 42. 
          The only reason I'm tripping so far down memory lane is that I discovered yet another British series on Netflix -- MI-5. Which pretty much sums up the excitement in my life. MI-5 is the English version of the FBI. Everything that blows up within the confines of the islands is under MI-5's jurisdiction. Everything that blows up off the island, i.e., the rest of the world, is under MI-6 jurisdiction, or their version of the CIA. 
          Discovering the wealth of British cop/spy/murder mysteries I have never seen has been like finding Cadbury Chocolate Easter Eggs tucked under the sofa cushions until Labor Day. So, that's what I'll be doing for the next couple of hours. Watching MI-5, not eating Cadbury Easter Eggs, although. . .