Archive for the ‘friendship’ Category
In Praise of Dogs and Cats (Friends, all)
As we’re in the winter doldrums now — caught between two holidays, where everything seems both surreal and pointless — it’s grown harder for me to come up with blog subjects that have some meaning. And thus, might strike a chord with someone else.
But there’s one thing I am always grateful for, and that’s the companionship of my Mom’s three dogs. They’re my friends; they have personalities all their own. Even though they have the typical dog faults — they love food to distraction and will gladly eat themselves sick over and over again, for just one — and they’re not “shining beacons of light,” it’s still a joy to be around them. They enjoy life for what it is: they get fed, they’re warm and out of the cold, they get affection and told they’re loved quite frequently. And they are content.
Lest you think I only feel like this about dogs, think again. Cats, too, are very special creatures. They definitely have personalities, in some ways stronger ones than many dogs. Their reasoning can be easier to follow by human beings — or at least, by me — and while cats can be aloof, if they like you, they let you know it. And they, too, are a joy to be around because they know what’s important: companionship and caring. Anything else just doesn’t register for cats, being profoundly irrelevant to their lives.
I keep thinking what are the most important qualities in a friend, and I think “companionship and caring” about sums it up. This is why pets are so important to many human beings, because it gets harder every day to reach out and keep trying to make a connection with another living soul.
I know that in the strongest human friendships, these same two things — companionship, and caring — are what count the most. Then comes communication — something you don’t need to worry about as much with a cat or dog, as they read nonverbal clues far better than most humans — and shared experiences, among many other things that go into making up a strong friendship with a human being.
Friends are vitally important. In the end, it doesn’t matter so much what kind of friends we have, though it’s much easier for human beings to have a human friend or two as that’s really the best way we have to be fully understood, as a companion animal, no matter how wonderful it might be, cannot reason on a human level. (Nor should it be asked to do so.)
So at this time of year, where it’s cold and dark and dreary over the Northern Hemisphere, do your best to celebrate your friends, near and far. If they’re still alive, tell ’em you appreciate them; if they’re dead, celebrate their lives as best you’re able. And please do remember to pet your cat or dog a few extra times, too. They’ll appreciate it, and it might actually help you out, too.
Jeff’s Memorial Service, and Why I Can’t Go
Folks, this is a terrible thing. I’ve been struggling all week with the fact that my friend Jeff Wilson is dead, that I’ll never be able to help him again, that I’ll never hear his voice again . . . and now, I can’t go to his memorial service, either.
The problem is very simple: the money isn’t there. I really want to go. I feel terrible that I can’t go. I want to be around people who knew Jeff at least a little bit — people who will understand why I feel so awful that he’s gone in a way my family can’t, my friends can’t (except for the very few who knew Jeff at all) — and it’s not going to happen without a major miracle (like winning $500 tonight in the state lottery; while I do have a ticket — I always played my numbers when Michael was alive, and I’ve continued to play them — I know how unlikely it is that I’ll win just the amount needed to go to Colorado at the absolute last minute).
Now, I suppose a major miracle is still possible and if so, I will be glad to come back here and say that if it happens. I know I prayed all week and hoped that somehow, in some way, I’d be able to get to Jeff’s memorial. But it’s in Colorado; I live in Wisconsin, and that’s the only reason I hadn’t already found a way to get out there and visit Jeff during the last five weeks of his life — while he fought a major medical crisis, looked to all concerned as if he’d turned the corner, was getting better and was sent to a nursing home for long-term rehabilitation and care — and then he died.
I know that Jeff wouldn’t care where I mourn him. That’s not the point. The point is that I wanted to be there so others who didn’t see Jeff in the same way I did would know to look for his good qualities. As I’d said before, Jeff’s personal situation was far less than stellar. Some people only view life in materialistic terms and don’t see that a life well-lived, where there’s a great deal of personal growth going on and a deeply spiritual outlook to boot, is one that’s worth living.
Jeff was poor in material things, except for books and his cats. But he was rich in everything else. That’s why I wanted to be there, so I could counter some of the materialism I was likely to find at his memorial service; Jeff wasn’t someone who had a big career or job or any money at all, but he was a wonderful person.
At any rate, I will never forget Jeff Wilson. Never. And I guess that’ll have to be enough for me, even though it surely doesn’t feel like it right now.
————-
Edited to add: Jeff’s memorial service has been called for 3 p.m. on Monday in Fort Collins, CO. He will be cremated, which was his wish . . . and the memorial service is to be held on what would’ve been Jeff’s 48th birthday. That’s yet another reason why I wanted to go, even though I have a plethora of reasons as it is. (As I’m sure you saw.)
Jeff Wilson: An Elegiac Portrait
I’ve been asked to describe my good friend, Jeff Wilson, to those who never got a chance to meet him. Here’s my best take, which I know will be inadequate.
Jeff was a very kind, compassionate person. He deplored the evils of this world, most particularly selfishness, greed and stupidity, but refrained from passing judgment on anyone. (More people should be like this.)
Jeff loved animals, and kept several cats (or maybe they kept him; I’m not sure). His cats were extremely important to him, and he treated them with respect and dignity — but don’t take that to mean he didn’t enjoy them, because he did. They often made him laugh, and he viewed this as an unalloyed blessing (which indeed, it was).
Jeff was an excellent friend. He was always there whenever he was needed, and he’d do whatever he could to help. He was an excellent listener; more to the point, he understood what he heard, which was a rare and special quality.
Jeff had very strong principles and an intrinsic sense of balance. Perhaps this was due to his appreciation of Eastern religious thought, most particularly the words of Confucius and Gautama Buddha; maybe it was just something about him that would’ve been there even without that, though studying those tenets certainly helped refine these excellent qualities.
Jeff searched for excellence in all things. He rarely found it, but when he did, he was as delighted as a child unwrapping just the toy he or she had wanted at Christmas.
Jeff appreciated classical music because it brought him closer to the Divine. His favorite composer was probably Ludwig van Beethoven; his favorite piece was Gustav Holst’s The Planets.
Jeff read everything, but he had a particular love for two different and disparate styles of writing: science fiction and fantasy on the one hand, and the highly structured and mannered novels of Jane Austen and her imitators on the other. He loved the former because they opened up new worlds and ways of thought to him; he loved the latter because they proved that even in a highly mannered world (now lost), people often acted rashly, badly, and without forethought — but how they got out of trouble in the end and found worthy pursuits was very similar to our own time. (In other words, Jeff found the commonality of human experience to be worthy, regardless of genre.)
Jeff was a nonmaterialist, a nonconformist, was an autodidact (meaning he taught himself many things he’d never learned in school and could absorb almost anything), a writer, an artist, dabbled with poetry but was rarely satisfied with his efforts (which to my mind, would make him a poet; not to his, though). He loved life, talking with people about anything and everything, and wanted to know all that was knowable.
I will miss him profoundly.
More on my friend, Jeff Wilson . . . and a bit about the recalls
Folks, these two topics aren’t as far removed as they seem. My best friend’s name was Jeff Wilson; he lived in Fort Collins, Colorado, and as I said earlier today, he died on Sunday morning at the age of 47.
Jeff was a political watcher, just as I am, and was keenly interested in the recall of Governor Scott Walker and also in the recall of my own sitting State Senator, Van Wanggaard (R-Racine). Jeff believed, as I do, that Walker and Wanggaard overreached drastically back in February due to SB10 — that being the budget bill that stripped public employee union members of their rights to collectively bargain. So me continuing to pursue the recalls, even though I really feel terrible about Jeff’s passing, is the right thing to do. It’s what he’d want me to do.
The recalls of both Walker and Wanggaard will start at 12:01 a.m. on Tuesday morning — that is, about two hours from now. Some people are going in their pajamas to get the recall papers; some are going straight from football parties (as the Packers are playing tonight; currently they’re up 31-7 in the third quarter). I won’t be doing that; I’ll be lighting a candle, again, in my good friend’s memory. But tomorrow afternoon, I will be going if at all possible to the recall office and will not only sign to get Walker and Wanggaard out, but will take the training so I can perhaps train others to do the same thing.
As I said before, Jeff was a deeply principled and ethical man. He had a very strong moral compass. He knew what he believed was right and he did that; nothing else need apply, and that was one of his best qualities to my mind (I suppose it matched my stubbornness rather well). That’s why he supported, very strongly, the recall of these two men; he even mentioned it on Friday during our last conversation.
It’s very hard right now to concentrate on anything because I feel so terribly about Jeff’s untimely passing. He was getting better. Everything looked good. I believed I could get out there to see him, and would’ve found a way as I was looking really hard; I also know that Jeff looked forward to my telephone calls, and that my encouragement and support meant a great deal to him — as me talking to him, knowing he was alive and fighting as hard as he could, meant a great deal to me because I knew he’d have done the same thing if I’d have been in his place.
So while I still want to recall Walker and Wanggaard and try to restore some balance to my state (all three branches of government right now are controlled by radical, hard-right Rs), it’s muted even though I’ve been looking forward to this day for months. I hope you can understand why.
While Heaven, or the positive afterlife (“the Good Place (TM)”), whatever you want to call it, has gained an angel, I feel absolutely devastated. Jeff and I were friends for a long time — six years, maybe a bit more — and he was my best friend, the person who understood me the best, and the person I understood the best also. Maybe it’s selfish of me, but I would much rather Jeff be here, and be upset at not being home where he wanted to be (a completely understandable reaction, to my mind), and me be able to talk with him directly and him with me, directly, than Heaven gaining him as an angel.
Because when one good person dies, the whole world loses, whether the world knew this person or not. In Jeff’s case, as he was a very, very good person, the world’s loss is nearly incalculable. And my own — well, I have no words to describe it, except to say that I wish with everything I have that this hadn’t happened.
I wanted to be there, to hold his hand, and to be able to give him a hug. I thought him seeing me, seeing my caring and concern, would make a difference. I wasn’t able to get there but was working hard to do so; obviously, I didn’t get that chance.
And while I don’t know if me getting there would’ve made a difference to him, it assuredly would’ve for me — being able to see him and touch him and hold his hand would’ve helped a lot right now.
I’m doing my best to remember the good times and positive memories of the excellent conversations Jeff and I had about all sorts of wide-ranging subjects. That’s the only way to deal with grief, really; you can’t forget, and you can’t “move on,” but you can go on with your memories and never, ever forget the wonderful people who have graced your life.
I’ve had two, now. My wonderful, amazing, extremely intelligent and talented husband, Michael. And my astonishingly smart, gifted, and remarkably talented friend, Jeff. So I’ve been doubly blessed, and I know that, even though I really wish both of them were here on this plane of existence rather than the positive afterlife I’m sure they’re enjoying right now because I miss them both more than words could ever say.
——–
** Note: As I’ve said before, there’s no question in my mind Michael would want me to pursue the recall efforts also. Michael was deeply principled also, and believed hypocrisy was among the worst sins known to mankind — Van Wanggaard has been guilty of that, in spades — while pitting brother against brother, sister against sister, the way Scott Walker did, is right down there, too. So with my extremely heavy heart, I will do my best to oust these two politicians and send them home to pursue a different course of employment . . . and hope whoever takes their places will be much better public servants than either of these two, or even both of them put together.
Life, the Universe, and the Unexpected
Sometimes, life throws you something you really didn’t expect.
Take my good friend Jeff, for example. About a month ago, he felt ill but had no idea what was going on; he was taken to the hospital, where he was found to have a massive infection. He nearly died, as he had to have open-heart surgery due to the infection being too well-rooted in his heart (the antibiotics started to kill it everywhere else, but not in his heart); at the age of only forty-seven, he came way too close to death.
Fortunately, he has survived that. And he sounds like he’s on the mend, though the road back from this is likely to be a long and difficult one. But I have hope that he will fully recover, as his mind, voice, and most of his memories are intact. (More about this below.)
A health crisis like this was completely unexpected — who would ever think something like this would happen? And having gone through something like this, except worse, with my late husband’s Michael’s sudden passing seven years ago didn’t make this any easier from my perspective; I really wanted to be there for Jeff as I care very much about him, I wasn’t able to get there (he lives several states away), and he nearly died.
I’m very glad he survived. (This is an extremely basic way to put it, of course, and I wish I had a better one. But sometimes, the plainest words speak best.) I will do whatever I can to help him in the difficult journey that lies ahead . . . wishing I had better words than this to explain what’s going on, but that’s the best I can do.
Jeff’s near-brush with death has shaken my own faith rather badly. I realize that in no valid religion or spiritual practice will it ever say that good people should survive such terrible things; Michael didn’t survive, though he fought harder than anyone I’ve ever seen to do so, and he was by far the best person I have ever known. (I’m sure he went to the Good Place (TM), too, or wherever it is wonderful people go after this life ends.) But for Jeff to first suffer the vagaries of this horrible economy, then have this happen to him and me having no way to get to him to even try to help, seems to add insult to injury. (Not to me. To my friend.) And that he’s going to have to work like the dickens just to get back to where he was . . . well, that he has the chance to do so is what I’d prayed for, so I’m glad of that. But it seems . . . unjust, at best.
Of course, no one ever promised that life would be fair, even to good people like my friend. But does life have to be this unfair?
I know, I know. We don’t have all the answers. Sometimes we can’t even ask the right questions. Being able to persevere is what makes the difference, to my mind, between a successful person and an unsuccessful one. And I know Jeff will persevere, because I view him as a successful person (I always have), no matter what’s going on all around him externally.
Jeff’s mind has returned to him, thankfully, but not all of his memories have. I’m happy he remembered I am a saxophonist; when I told him that I’ve been playing, and am now in a symphonic band, he was very congratulatory and he meant it. But he’s forgotten all about his favorite of my unfinished novels, CHANGING FACES — the one I’m working on for NaNo right now — though he remembers the Elfyverse (the completed and looking for a home novel ELFY, the in-progress AN ELFY ABROAD and the prequel, KEISHA’S VOW), which I found out when I mentioned the latter novel.
When I told him that he’s been asking me for the past two-plus years to please finish CHANGING FACES and be done with it, I got no reaction from him; then I explained how long I’ve been working on it, and that I’d written 6000-plus words into chapter 20 and have 600-plus in chapter 21 after it being stalled out for nearly one and a half years. He recognized that as an achievement, and congratulated me on it, but it didn’t really mean much to him because he can’t remember the plotline, at all.
That the main reason I started working on CHANGING FACES as my NaNo project is because I wanted to do something, no matter how tangential, that I felt Jeff would appreciate as my way to honor him and what he was going through. Maybe it sounds silly that this was my motivation for re-opening this MSS, but there it is.
I wanted to write something that I felt Jeff would like to read down the road, when he’s again capable of reading well (right now, he isn’t, and this is a skill he’ll have to work hard to regain). So writing this newest chapter of CHANGING FACES was my way to express to my friend Jeff, without words, “I believe you have a future, and I want you to read this in that future.” But I wasn’t able to explain this well to him tonight. At all. (Though of course I’ll try again tomorrow, providing I’m able to reach him.)
Jeff is a very spiritual person, with a strong grasp of what’s going on in this world; to my mind, he nearly personifies the phrase “down to Earth.” He’s an intelligent, funny, interesting person with a great many gifts and talents, who’s been hampered by a pitiful economy and a less than stellar personal situation that was all of a sudden made much worse due to his health crisis. Jeff is a writer, a Webmaster, and is very hard-working in his own idiosyncratic way; I’m very grateful that he’s doing so much better, and I believe his strong will and deep faith will sustain him over time.
All that being said, I wish this hadn’t happened to him. Because he truly doesn’t deserve it.
Who Cares About the Friends and Family?, or, How to Stay Strong during a Family Health Crisis
Right off the bat, I want to say that I’m not a health care professional. I’m just a person who’s observed many people in crises and believe that caregivers, or family members, or those who are trying hard to support someone who is in the hospital, or has a serious chronic illness that impacts every part of his or her life, need to be supported.
Note that this particular post has been prompted due to the health of my good friend Jeff, who remains ill in a Fort Collins hospital at this time. Jeff’s been in the hospital now for approximately three weeks; two weeks ago, he had open-heart surgery, and there have been a number of people at his bedside ever since (along with the doctors and medical personnel that you’d expect).
I know that I’m far away from where “the action is” with regards to my friend; he is ill, and I am very concerned about him. I have talked with his family members, I have talked with his good friend (and medical POA), and for the most part, my focus has been on how to get Jeff better rather than how all these people, who’ve been around Jeff and his illness now for three solid weeks, can hang in there and remember their own needs at such a difficult and distressing time.
But they, too, are suffering. They see Jeff in that hospital bed, and he’s not well. They’ve been there for weeks now, and that’s extremely distressing; further, there’s no timetable as to when he’ll get better and be able to go home or to a rehab facility — which is why I thought to post this at all, in the hopes that it might do some good, and that it probably won’t do any harm. (“First, do no harm,” that’s the Hippocratic Oath. And while I’m not a medical person by any stretch of the imagination, self-care is still a medical function, right? So it seems like that Oath applies.)
What I’ve learned is this: if you take some time for yourself — providing you’re in a long-term situation, where someone is ill for a long period of time (either at home, or in the hospital, or in a hospice, or whatever), you are actually better able to deal with your ill family member or friend.
I know this sounds nonsensical; you want to be there every minute, to show that you care, and to do all you possibly can to aid the health care professionals to get your loved one well, or at least keep him or her as well as possible.
But we’re human beings, and we need to take at least some care of ourselves during a health crisis. We have to remember that if we don’t take care of ourselves, we’re not going to be able to do all we can for our ill family member or friend.
Now, what I mean by “take care of yourself” is this: make sure you eat. Make sure you get adequate rest. Do something nice for yourself, even if it’s as simple as buying yourself a small piece of candy, or talking a walk outside in the sun.
Don’t neglect yourself, whatever you do. Because focusing all your attention on your ill family member is actually counterproductive, unless it’s such an urgent crisis (life-or-death, with immediacy, something like I faced on my husband Michael’s final day of life) that you have no choice but to do so. (Even then, the health care people told me I should make sure to eat something; I managed a banana, I think. To go wash my face; to have water; to talk a walk inside the hospital to clear my head. And they told me to take my regular medicines on schedule, too; I had to stay strong in case my husband was able to survive.)
For Jeff’s family and friends who are there in Colorado with him — and for those of us who care for Jeff very much, but do not live in Colorado and haven’t been able to get there — we have to remember to do what we can to take care of ourselves in addition to whatever we can do for Jeff. (What I can do right now is pray. That’s about it. But I am assuredly doing that.)
Taking care of ourselves is not selfish; instead, it’s our way of staying ready to help.
So if taking in a movie helps to clear your head, you should go do it.
If going out to eat is what you need — go do it. (If you can’t stand the hospital food, briefly leaving the hospital for an hour or whatever isn’t going to change things for your loved one — and it may really help you, which indirectly helps your loved one.)
In other words — self-sacrifice to excess is a vice. So please, do something nice for yourself every day — even if it’s just to luxuriate in the shower an extra minute, or take a walk, or eat a candy bar, or read a few pages in a book that makes you laugh . . . these are good things to do, and you should make a point of doing them for your own mental, physical, emotional, and spiritual health.
Taking care of yourself should help you be better able to deal with your extremely sick loved one. So please, keep this in mind; I know it feels wrong to take care of yourself at such a stressful time, but if you won’t, who will? (And if something happens to you, how will that help your sick friend or family member any?)
————–
Note: I’ve walked this path, and I know how bad it feels to be there but not be able to affect the outcome at all. I think being there at your loved one’s bedside is the right move — of course it’s the right move! But you have to remember that in a long-term illness, you need to take care of you in addition to your loved one . . . also, if the person in question wasn’t so very ill, he or she would want you to take care of yourself.
WI Legislature — Pass April’s Law, Now
Hey, Wisconsin Legislature — it’s time to unite behind a piece of legislation everyone should get behind, “April’s Law,” which will increase the mandatory punishment of sexual offenders (i.e., predators) who commit offenses against children under age twelve. Put your politics aside, and vote for this common-sense piece of legislation. Now.
As to why I feel so strongly about this? My friend, Lika Saliscente, has been working hard to get “April’s Law” passed in Wisconsin for several years now. She runs a non-profit called the Youth Voice Initiative, and recently testified before a legislative subcommittee, the Assembly Subcommittee on Criminal Law and Corrections, in Madison, Wisconsin; “April’s Law” is called that because a little girl named April, who was only six, was raped over and over again, to the point of contracting an STD; the perpetrator only served one year in prison. Ten years later, he was convicted of raping several other children; you can see why, if this violent, disgusting individual had been put in jail for a longer term, it may have done some good in this instance.
“April’s Law” would increase the mandatory minimum sentence from twenty-five years to life in prison to a very simple “life in prison” without any possibility for parole or “early release due to good behavior.” There would also be stricter penalties for adults who are convicted due to possessing child pornography, which is also something I strongly support.
Lika’s story, and push to get “April’s Law” passed in Wisconsin, was recently discussed in the Racine Journal-Times (on the front page in its Monday, October 24, 2011 edition; the online version was published on Sunday, October 23). I urge you to read this important article if you haven’t already, and if it doesn’t make your blood boil, I’ll be quite shocked.
Now, not everyone is behind this law. State Senator Van Wanggaard (R-Racine), has said he does not support this law in the past, to Lika and others; his reasons for not supporting this bill are spurious to the point of ridiculousness. (He was not quoted in the Journal-Times article, and I’ve been unable to gain a response from him regarding this, or any other, issue, which is yet another reason why Van Wanggaard should be recalled and replaced. But I digress.)
Fortunately, Lika’s push to get “April’s Law” passed does have the support of at least two Racine Legislators, Assemblymen Cory Mason and Robert Turner. Here’s what Cory Mason had to say in the recent Journal-Times article:
“She stayed with it,” said Mason, who gives Saliscente credit for the bill now known as “April’s law.” Her bill received a hearing last week before the Assembly Committee on Criminal Justice and Corrections, thanks to the help of Turner, who sits on the committee.
She even helped with multiple drafts of the bill, said Mason, who believes in the importance of the bill.
“Those are horrific crimes and the victims of those crimes deal with the consequences of those crimes for the rest of their lives,” Mason said.
Exactly. Which is why it’s time for the state Legislature to put their politics aside, and pass this extremely important bill. Now.
Because child rape — which is what we’re discussing — is neither a Democratic nor a Republican issue. It’s a human issue. Period.
Brewers Losing Game 5, but I Don’t Care
My Milwaukee Brewers are currently losing to the St. Louis Cardinals, 7-1 in the eighth inning . . . but I don’t care.
You might be wondering why this is so. Have I lost my love for the Brewers? (Um, no.) Have I decided that baseball isn’t that important? (Well, no . . . it’s still what it’s always been.)
Or is it that baseball isn’t as important as someone else’s life? (You’re on to something if you picked this option.)
Look. One of my best friends is in the hospital in Colorado, and I don’t have the financial wherewithal to go visit him. He has bacteria in his spine, brain and heart; I was contacted by a different friend who let me know what was going on.
I talked with my friend, very briefly, earlier this evening, and he sounds very ill. He’s been in the hospital for a week and it doesn’t sound like he’ll be getting out any time too soon, either.
Whatever’s gone so wrong for his health that he picked up a major bacterial infection and has landed in the hospital is such a terrible thing that it’s driving out much of anything else. I don’t have many details, not that they’d probably help if I did; I just know he’s ill, he’s too far away for me to visit, and I can’t do anything to help besides pray. (Which I am.)
Anyway, the Brewers still have Game 6 in Milwaukee, and can maybe win that. My brother has a ticket for Game 6 and I really do hope the Brewers will win and tie the series back up at 3-3.
But for now — just for this one game — I’m a lot more worried about my good friend than I am about the Brewers’ World Series hopes. Because the Brewers can always try again next year for the World Series if they miss it now (it’ll be tough to get there without Prince Fielder, who is assuredly going elsewhere as the Brewers cannot afford the huge contract Fielder wants, but at least it’ll be possible); my friend’s life, on the other hand, is in a real life and death struggle and I’m far more concentrated on that than I am about any sports team, no matter how much I appreciate them or the game of baseball in particular.
———-
Edited to add: I have added a tag with my friend’s name, Jeff Wilson, for those who knew him. I’ve had a number of people ask me what Jeff’s illness was; this is the main post where I discussed it.
I really wish I hadn’t felt the need to add the tag, though; it really stinks that Jeff is no longer alive to talk writing, politics, and the world at large with as he was a most excellent conversationalist. (And my best friend.)
Tired, ill, and reading
This past week hasn’t been one of my best.
As to what’s wrong? Well, I hit the six years, six months mark in my grief observance . . . what a passive way to say that I’ve now been without my husband for over six years and six months. And I hate it, but can’t do anything about it, save remember my beloved husband Michael as he was while he was alive — and know to the bottom of my soul that we will be together again in eternity if at all humanly possible.
Oh, yeah. And I’ve been sick, too — sinus stuff and flu symptoms, which hasn’t stopped me from looking for work (and wouldn’t have stopped me from accepting a job had one been offered) . . . still no luck on the job front.
Before I go on, I wanted to mention the passing of Geraldine Ferraro, the first woman to ever be nominated on a major party ticket for Vice President. She’s still one of only two women to be nominated (Sarah Palin being the other) . . . Ms. Ferraro was a tough, strong, smart, capable and confident woman who would’ve made an exceptional Vice President and an even better President, had she ever had the opportunity.
Ms. Ferraro was a staunch supporter of Hillary Clinton for President, and spoke for me as well as for many others after the 5/31/08 debacle that was the Democratic National Committee’s Rules and Bylaws Committee that decided the fate of Mrs. Clinton and the Democratic nomination — not at the hands of the voters, but instead at the hands of the DNC itself. Ms. Ferraro was astonished and disgusted, and her clear, strong voice helped smooth the waters afterward and made our dissent as HRC Dems more forceful, coherent and logical. I will miss Ms. Ferraro and her tenacity, and I hope “The Good Place (TM)” will appreciate Ms. Ferraro and bring her joy, peace and whatever else she wants as her productive and happy afterlife.
Now, on to less important stuff.
This past week I’ve read at least six books, most of which I’m going to review at Amazon.com and/or Shiny Book Review down the line. The best of the lot was Louisa Young’s MY DEAR, I WANTED TO TELL YOU, as it’s a horrifically realistic portrait of World War I, but IN THE GARDEN OF BEASTS by Erik Larson was also very good and very horrifying, the latter book being about Ambassador to Germany William Dodd and his family, who served during 1933-1937 being stationed in Berlin and saw first-hand what was going on with Adolf Hitler, Josef Goebbels, and all the others. The only book I really couldn’t get behind was Gina Showalter’s UNRAVELED, this being the sequel to INTERTWINED (I liked INTERTWINED, mind you) . . . just didn’t buy most of it, and the reason I didn’t buy it was that the characterization wasn’t as solid as in the previous novel. (When your main character, Aden, is a guy with a bunch of dead people inside his head, you need to believe in him or the concept doesn’t work. I bought it in INTERTWINED, didn’t buy it in UNRAVELED. Would still give Ms. Showalter one more chance to sell me on this universe down the line, though, because of the previous, far-stronger novel.)
I’ve also had a problem recently in focusing my attention on one thing, or even on any ten things . . . I believe this is due to exhaustion, and being ill, and trying to pretend I’m neither one.
Well, the time for pretending is over; I hope by saying out loud, in public, even (as blogging is a public endeavor even if no one reads it but me), that I’m going to take some down-time if I can makes sense.
Other than that, I continue to watch Wisconsin politics. The Governor’s budget repair bill was stalled in the courts, but the Republicans tried an unusual end-around that I’m not even sure I can describe — they believe by doing this rather odd thing (you have to publish a bill specifically by the Secretary of State’s office in Wisconsin or it’s not legal, and after it’s published it takes ten days to take effect; this hasn’t happened as a Dane County court enjoined that with a temporary restraining order, but a different place in the government has published the bill and the Republicans believe that’s enough and the bill — which stops the state from collectively bargaining with employees in public employee unions — is now law. I have my doubts on that score but have no doubt — zero — that the original judge who gave the temporary restraining order will have more to say tomorrow and that any legal action will be officially blocked by five PM tomorrow.) Note that the Wisconsin Republicans did this weird “end-around” thing after 5 PM on a Friday because they wanted to make positive news, such as it is, and mute the negative news a little . . . tomorrow I’m sure all the crap will hit the fan, again.
Oh, yeah. I nearly forgot to add that one of my friends, whom I respect highly, has told me that he thinks I should not write the Elfyverse (my universe, my concept, my voice) or Michael’s universes (granted, all of those were Michael’s concept and me trying to match Michael’s voice, which is very tough) and instead should think of something else to write and do that.
Well, here’s my thought on that — it’s up to me what I do, and these days I’m glad to get any ideas at all. If I can get one story consistently talking to me so I can do more with it, I’m going to work with it — whether it’s a new story, an existing story in my Elfyverse or an existing story in Michael’s, it doesn’t matter. Only the strength of the story matters . . . I just hope I’ll start hearing something after I heal up a little, because right now none of my stories are talking to me, at all.
Note that I appreciate my friend for saying what he did even though I feel he’s flat wrong. Being able to honestly communicate is important, even if you don’t always agree — probably because you can’t always agree, it’s important to have some real communication going on even if it’s, “I really don’t like what you’re doing, Barb, and wish you’d stop.” (My response wouldn’t be printable, I’m afraid, but that’s the drawback to free, honest and open communication.)
Oh, and last, Writers of the Future bounced both of my stories out in the last two quarters . . . what else is new?
Barb Caffrey's Blog 