The lesson I learned today: do not put a marshmallow in the microwave for longer than ten seconds.
....................
Monday, November 10, 2008
Household Hint #1
The lesson I learned today: do not put a marshmallow in the microwave for longer than ten seconds.
....................
Friday, November 7, 2008
Grace and goodwill
As exciting events go, election night 2008 pretty much blew the needle off the Wow-O-Meter. While everyone's perceptions of the day emanate from a deeply personal perspective, it seemed apparent that the promise of change resonated fiercely with millions of Americans.
I could not stop looking - and marveling -- at the faces in the crowds. From the west coast to Manhattan to Grant Park in Chicago, masses of people with eyes shining brightly watched with rapt attention as the voting results were announced state by state. The silhouettes, the skin, the age, the gender changed from face to face, but the same glow of hopeful anticipation brought kinship to strangers.
Now as we bask in the radiance of that night, an opportunity has been given to us. The enormous challenges at hand for the new administration cannot be resolved solely by President-elect Obama and his staff. The ground swell of support must rise up and participate in creating a brighter America.
Not everyone can become a public servant or join the Peace Corps. Few of us will sign up with Teach for America or take a government job. But you can help your disabled neighbor rake his leaves. Or volunteer your time at a nursing home. You can mentor an inner city kid. Or cook dinner for a homeless shelter. Small acts of kindness are those first steps that create a strong community; and strong communities will mend a broken nation.
I think I speak mostly for myself when I say the first step is letting go of the anger and frustration that's been felt so deeply during the past eight years. As I lay in bed election night, I realized that the promise of a better future would not shine so brightly had the recent times not been so bleak.
Is it possible that we owe "W" a thank you? Was the darkness that arose around him the catalyst that thrust a historically reluctant country to embrace an African American leader? Was it overwhelming despair that opened our hearts allowing us to act on the words of Martin Luther King, Jr. and judge a man based on "the content of his character and not the color of his skin"?
Let's begin our practice of giving by sending grace and goodwill to the President-elect. Light a candle, say a prayer, hold a good thought, surround him in light - whatever your style or manner, put your positive energy into manifesting a future of peace and prosperity.
"Yes we can" should be our on-going mantra, a reminder of all that is possible.
"This is our moment. This is our time - to put our people back to work and open doors of opportunity for our kids; to restore prosperity and promote the cause of peace; to reclaim the American Dream and reaffirm that fundamental truth - that out of many, we are one; that while we breathe, we hope, and where we are met with cynicism, and doubt, and those who tell us that we can't, we will respond with that timeless creed that sums up the spirit of a people: Yes We Can."
- President-elect Barack Obama
November 4, 2008.
I could not stop looking - and marveling -- at the faces in the crowds. From the west coast to Manhattan to Grant Park in Chicago, masses of people with eyes shining brightly watched with rapt attention as the voting results were announced state by state. The silhouettes, the skin, the age, the gender changed from face to face, but the same glow of hopeful anticipation brought kinship to strangers.
Now as we bask in the radiance of that night, an opportunity has been given to us. The enormous challenges at hand for the new administration cannot be resolved solely by President-elect Obama and his staff. The ground swell of support must rise up and participate in creating a brighter America.
Not everyone can become a public servant or join the Peace Corps. Few of us will sign up with Teach for America or take a government job. But you can help your disabled neighbor rake his leaves. Or volunteer your time at a nursing home. You can mentor an inner city kid. Or cook dinner for a homeless shelter. Small acts of kindness are those first steps that create a strong community; and strong communities will mend a broken nation.
I think I speak mostly for myself when I say the first step is letting go of the anger and frustration that's been felt so deeply during the past eight years. As I lay in bed election night, I realized that the promise of a better future would not shine so brightly had the recent times not been so bleak.
Is it possible that we owe "W" a thank you? Was the darkness that arose around him the catalyst that thrust a historically reluctant country to embrace an African American leader? Was it overwhelming despair that opened our hearts allowing us to act on the words of Martin Luther King, Jr. and judge a man based on "the content of his character and not the color of his skin"?
Let's begin our practice of giving by sending grace and goodwill to the President-elect. Light a candle, say a prayer, hold a good thought, surround him in light - whatever your style or manner, put your positive energy into manifesting a future of peace and prosperity.
"Yes we can" should be our on-going mantra, a reminder of all that is possible.
"This is our moment. This is our time - to put our people back to work and open doors of opportunity for our kids; to restore prosperity and promote the cause of peace; to reclaim the American Dream and reaffirm that fundamental truth - that out of many, we are one; that while we breathe, we hope, and where we are met with cynicism, and doubt, and those who tell us that we can't, we will respond with that timeless creed that sums up the spirit of a people: Yes We Can."
- President-elect Barack Obama
November 4, 2008.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Yes we can
October 18, 2008. It was a brilliant day in St. Louis. The sky was robin’s egg blue and dotted with passing clouds. The Arch gleamed brightly in the sunshine as 100,000 good citizens filled the park grounds to enjoy their moment in history. Barack Obama was getting ready to speak.
For me, the day started with a ride on Metro to the riverfront. The train was full but not overly crowded, and there was a definite hum in the air. Some folks seemed excited and jovial. Others lost in their thoughts. Everyone, though, seemed to radiate a keen sense of anticipation. Myself included.
As Metro pulled into the Laclede’s Landing stop, you could see scores of people already filling the Arch grounds. All along the road, more people were coming down from every direction to cue up for their entrance to the park.
At the sight of so many already on site, a spontaneous roar and applause erupted in my car. A woman yelled out, “Yes we can!” I hadn’t even got off the train and already I had goosebumps and lump in my throat.
As I came out of the Metro station I was astounded to see so many people in one place behaving in such an orderly manner. There was no jostling for better positioning or cutting in line. Folks just patiently walked way past the park entrance to find a spot at the end of the procession.
Order and good manners were maintained throughout the long, snaking line. Then from the Arch grounds you could hear the first strains of the Star Spangled Banner. The crowd murmured. Now someone began talking over a loud speaker. Buzzing rose up around me and then anarchy took over.
Thinking they were missing the start of the program, people broke from line and started rushing toward the Arch. But even in this moment of rebellion, there was order and courtesy. A few volunteers simply steered the throngs in the right direction and suddenly I came over the crest where I could get a better scope of the crowd. Wow.
As local and state Democrats took their turn at the podium, people continued filling in every possible square inch of the natural amphitheatre created by the sloping terrain. As someone who suffers a strong sense of claustrophobia in crowds, I took a position near the far northern fence so I would have open space on one side. I was high enough on the slope that I was able to see down to the riverfront and all the way up to the Old Courthouse.
From my position I could observe and marvel at the diversity of the masses around me. African American, white, Asian, middle-Eastern, Hispanic. Young, old, big and little. Yuppies and aging hippies. Strong athletic types and people in wheel chairs. Grandmothers, toddlers, fashionistas, bikers and everything in between.
What everyone had in common, though, was a hope for a better America and a desire to stand close to a man who seems poised to take us there.
One thing my position did not allow was a close up view of Obama. But a large video screen gave the action more visibility. Fortunately the sound system was remarkably good and you could clearly hear first hand the now familiar voice of a great orator.
Hearing Obama speak in person was of course exciting. The crowd cheered and chanted and gained vigor with every word. But it was the pulse of the masses that was the thrill of the day. It was like being part of a great beating heart. We all vibrated to the same frequency and created an energy force strong enough to light up the city.
As the speech ended, I made a dash for the exit and wound my way through swarms of street vendors with piles of T-shirts, bumper stickers and buttons. The energy of the crowd disseminated but I knew that each of us left feeling like someone plugged us into a socket of hope and flipped the recharge switch.
The woman on the train was right. Yes we can.
Photos
My digital camera finally died so I shot black and white film on a 30 year old Pentax -- the camera I learned photography on many years ago. I was positioned into the sun and many tall people obstructed photo opportunities, but I'm including below a few shots from the rally. I've posted them separately because, honestly, I couldn't figure out how to get them sequentially into this post.
For me, the day started with a ride on Metro to the riverfront. The train was full but not overly crowded, and there was a definite hum in the air. Some folks seemed excited and jovial. Others lost in their thoughts. Everyone, though, seemed to radiate a keen sense of anticipation. Myself included.
As Metro pulled into the Laclede’s Landing stop, you could see scores of people already filling the Arch grounds. All along the road, more people were coming down from every direction to cue up for their entrance to the park.
At the sight of so many already on site, a spontaneous roar and applause erupted in my car. A woman yelled out, “Yes we can!” I hadn’t even got off the train and already I had goosebumps and lump in my throat.
As I came out of the Metro station I was astounded to see so many people in one place behaving in such an orderly manner. There was no jostling for better positioning or cutting in line. Folks just patiently walked way past the park entrance to find a spot at the end of the procession.
Order and good manners were maintained throughout the long, snaking line. Then from the Arch grounds you could hear the first strains of the Star Spangled Banner. The crowd murmured. Now someone began talking over a loud speaker. Buzzing rose up around me and then anarchy took over.
Thinking they were missing the start of the program, people broke from line and started rushing toward the Arch. But even in this moment of rebellion, there was order and courtesy. A few volunteers simply steered the throngs in the right direction and suddenly I came over the crest where I could get a better scope of the crowd. Wow.
As local and state Democrats took their turn at the podium, people continued filling in every possible square inch of the natural amphitheatre created by the sloping terrain. As someone who suffers a strong sense of claustrophobia in crowds, I took a position near the far northern fence so I would have open space on one side. I was high enough on the slope that I was able to see down to the riverfront and all the way up to the Old Courthouse.
From my position I could observe and marvel at the diversity of the masses around me. African American, white, Asian, middle-Eastern, Hispanic. Young, old, big and little. Yuppies and aging hippies. Strong athletic types and people in wheel chairs. Grandmothers, toddlers, fashionistas, bikers and everything in between.
What everyone had in common, though, was a hope for a better America and a desire to stand close to a man who seems poised to take us there.
One thing my position did not allow was a close up view of Obama. But a large video screen gave the action more visibility. Fortunately the sound system was remarkably good and you could clearly hear first hand the now familiar voice of a great orator.
Hearing Obama speak in person was of course exciting. The crowd cheered and chanted and gained vigor with every word. But it was the pulse of the masses that was the thrill of the day. It was like being part of a great beating heart. We all vibrated to the same frequency and created an energy force strong enough to light up the city.
As the speech ended, I made a dash for the exit and wound my way through swarms of street vendors with piles of T-shirts, bumper stickers and buttons. The energy of the crowd disseminated but I knew that each of us left feeling like someone plugged us into a socket of hope and flipped the recharge switch.
The woman on the train was right. Yes we can.
Photos
My digital camera finally died so I shot black and white film on a 30 year old Pentax -- the camera I learned photography on many years ago. I was positioned into the sun and many tall people obstructed photo opportunities, but I'm including below a few shots from the rally. I've posted them separately because, honestly, I couldn't figure out how to get them sequentially into this post.
Photos from Obama rally #1
The crowd came from every direction and began snaking their way through the arch grounds park -- in, up, around, down. It took great planning to get this kind of precision to the procession and the crowds behaved admirably.
Photos from Obama rally #2
As I crested the hill I began to see the full magnitude of the crowd. This picture represents maybe 5% of the total supporters.
Phatos from Obama rally #3
I love the look on the face of the boy in the middle. I wish he had a better view.
Photos from Obama rally #4
This group of ladies was too far away to see Obama, but that didn't dampen their enthusiasm.
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