What do you believe?

NPR, the gem of my life, is bringing back a great program- "This I Believe". Back in the 1950's there was a radio program hosted by journalist Edward R. Murrow based on the ideal that we as humans share some of the same beliefs/values/ideas and that it can hold us together. It was created for people to share essays that reflected guiding principles in their lives. The program highlighted empathy and the ability to look at other peoples vantage points and reflections and for respect to grow there. It freaking rocked apparently as my grandmother listened to Einstein, Helen Keller, NYC taxi drivers, farmers, mothers, bankers, and Jackie Robinson speak from her radio weekly. I have to suspend my warped idea of the 50's and really think about what this all meant to the American people-I mean people were stressed-society was focused on the Cold War, McCarthyism, and racial issues. It was not all bobbysockers, Levis, strange music, and milkshakes as I like to imagine. It was real times and this program brought so much comfort and hope I imagine. Hope is where the good stuff lives. I think now is a perfect time to revisit this notion of what we can and do believe. I found it very comforting when I researched the old essays and noticed that many new parents in the 50's choose to write essays to their newborn children, a message for the future. I like to conjure up in my mind the image of my mother as a baby in 1951, twisted in a soft blanket while the wooden radio hums along and my grandparents drink tea. I like to remind myself that I am in places where others have been before me. I find comfort in the notion that my grandparents were young and worried about the future as I am-that they looked at my baby mother and found it hard to exhale-that they had all the hope in the world on her-that they believed it would all be alright. That is also what I believe.I encourage you to go to npr.com and submit an essay. I will be posting my essay soon.

Doobleh-vay Human of the Week

Fatma is one of my students. She is one of the sprites that occur randomly and remind me that I do love children and education. She is a true old soul with innocence and a bright mind. Today she wrote about me in her journal and said things like, "Ms. Amy is the bestest and prettiest in the world". I am still on a high from that as I never think of myself as pretty-I do think of myself as cool, sexy, tired, cranky, and stinky from time to time...but PRETTY! Fatma made my day, but her nomination is for her henna tattoos. They are intricate and yes, pretty...just like her.

not us
I would rather
be aware always of what I looked like to others
or speak with the voice of a recorded me
live under large thumbs
and above massive means
then have us unfold and spill out on red tables of normalcy
you and I don't unravel and sit
open for people to view
to whisper
look they are just like us

why I am sad this second

My name is not a palindrome.

Doobleh-vay Human of the Week

I am very happy for the woman in this photograph. She is on the fringe of starting a new life with this sweet man. My friend Michelle T. will marry him soon on a beach somewhere fantastically romantic and start the quintessential perfect life. I say it is about time. I have known this woman for a long time. 21 years. She is a tricky one this gal, but I venture to say this is her first time at really being "there" when it comes to the love thing. I am at ease with her decisions as of late and I am wishing her the world. Oh yeah, the reason for her nomination is the kick ass cowboy hat. Only like 3% of women can wear them well.
Come back each week for a new human that needs exposure...

As of today only 39% of Americans are dumb (Bush Approval Rating)

I went to a potluck at the local Mennonite church Thursday evening. Cindy Sheehan’s Bring Them Home Now tour was in Columbus and my friends and I thought it would be a good idea to show some support for the cause. First of all, the church folks were cool as hell and they know how to throw down some good food. I guess I was not sure what to expect, I went with an open mind but still assuming it would be a whole bang up of move-on peeps and some tables and of course some freaky Mennonites telling me bout Jesus. I was surprised, which is always freaking nice, that it was a completely beautiful experience. It was in essence, a bunch of diverse people sharing food and stories. It was a place where the energy was thick with good juju and you felt like you could exhale. It was a place that held a tremendous amount of hope mingled with a quiet sadness. As I held Finn on my lap after dinner and listened to the stories of the families from the tour I was struck by one of those defining moments. I had a realization that someday Finn will be a man and practice his free will and things will change and all of this will happen faster than I can even believe sitting on a Mennonite pew. I pray that my son has a long life. I pray that war escapes him. I pray for these families that they may find peace within this tour. They are seeking and I hope they find. There have been many viewpoints to this tour and Cindy Sheehan in general- I have heard “propaganda”, “anti-bush”, “anti soldier” and a whole bunch of other shit coming from right wings, but I can’t help but think that this is what is needed. People need to belong and they need to have a platform. This is an agenda, a necessary agenda that needs to continue. What is we all were focused and driven enough to really spread our truths, our messages-even if it hurt? What if?

Vogue Magazine and Wal-mart?

I have always read Vogue. It began when I was 16 years old. I lived in the deep country. My mom drove an El Camino and my father worked in a factory. I am sure I had clothing from Sears and Roebuck. I found a pile of Vogue magazines in my art class in high school and I fell in love. I started reading and my unsophisticated self died a little when I cracked the spine ofa fresh issue of Vogue and was transported to a place of magic and awe...Viewing the world from a different vantage point. Vogue has always been a constant in my life, traveling through college, living in Europe, and finally settling back down in Ohio with a family. I do not own a Birken bag or shop at Tod's, but I still adore fashion and the sheer bliss it gives to me. I subscribe to Vogue because I want to escape and relish the fashion world. I want to know what is hot and what is classic and what to spend my money on this season. I want to see beautiful images.
So Sunday when I was preparing to carve out a few precious moments to myself as I had sent my boys to the park, I got a large coffee and sat down to read my Vogue September issue. I thought I was hallucinating as I opened to a full spread advertising section of Wal-mart fashions. I do not want to see Walmart adverts. I know that Walmart is on a mission to compete with Target and others that have gone mainstream of sorts, but I venture to say that it will not succeed. Walmart has a place. It is a place I may purchase diapers and household goods, and I may walk down its long aisles with my Fendi swinging from my shoulder if I please,but it is not a place that carries clothing like I see in Vogue. I want my Vogue to be true to itself. I want them to Save that ad space for an up and coming rockstar designer and give it to them at an affordable rate. And while I am on the subject of Wal-mart...What is up with the place? I feel really sicko shopping there. My mother loves Wal-mart and told me to check out diapers for Finn there. Yes, they are cheaper, but I feel like the whole idea of Walmart cheapens me. I think I have come to terms with the fact that I cannot shop there anymore...even for cheap diapers. Why should I shop/support the place where t-shirts are sold that were made by a woman making 20 cents an hour, I can't buy dirty Rap if I wanted to, and my local small business people are suffering. Ugh. But, back to Vogue. I think I may have to write a letter to the Editors and beg them to look inward. They too are perhaps being seduced and mind washed by the Mart. I need my monthly Vogue to be as true to itself as a conglomerate Conde Naste publication can be.
Doobleh-vay...

whatever

When I studied French I fell in love with the letter "w". It sounds like dooblehvay and in my lingusitical history it means "whatever". So, that is what this blog will be about folks...whatever.