It's time to take a caesura. Wrong use of the word, I know, and wrong use of the definition, but it conveys my meaning. Like a caesura--a break or pause in the middle of a line of verse--I'm taking a break from my blog. As Hamlet asks himself in Act III, Scene I, with a definite break between the two famous lines, I also ask, "To blog or not to blog//That is the question."
The answer for now is clear: not to blog.
A caesura it is!
Shamrocks in the yard capture the spirit of Easter . . .
A creative writing teacher told our class many years ago that we should never write about cancer in fiction. Cancer was cliched, and it conveyed tragedy. The reader's assumptions and stereotypes would detract from the story.
What will I do, then, if I choose to tell the story of my life through the lens of fiction?
My grandmother died from breast cancer. My father died from bladder cancer. My aunt died from endometrial cancer. My sister-in-law died from brain cancer. My cousin's son died from bone cancer. My mother has glandular cancer, my cousin has liver cancer, and I've had three cancers.
As explained by the American Cancer Society, the word cancer comes from the Latin for crab--an unfortunate image that most likely arose "because the finger-like spreading projections from a cancer called to mind the shape of a crab." In contrast, the finger-like projections from the Cancer constellation are quite lovely:
The faintest of all the constellations in the zodiac, Cancer is hard to find.
Our writing teacher no doubt said something like this, which I found from the Institute for Writers: "Often writers imbue their ailing characters with a disease to such an extent that they seem like merely an embodiment of the illness . . . It makes for uninteresting two-dimensional characters. (Insert yawn here.)"
Cancer has become my companion over the years, not a friend of course, but a familiar figure. I know how it moves and how it acts. I know not to be surprised. And if I ever write about the people I've known with cancer, they won't be cliched or two-dimensional. You won't have to yawn. For their cancer has never defined them. Rather, they've defied it. Their personalities, quirks, and talents have far outlived this disease.
The crab can scuttle all it wants, sideways hither and yon, but I'll take the image in the sky--whether I can see it or not.
When I heard about the shootings in Atlanta on Tuesday, I soon began playing in my head a song from childhood. It became an earworm, which I still can't get out of my mind. Called "Wun Long Pan," from The Blue Book of the John W. Schaum Piano Course series, it introduces students to sixteenth notes through the following lyrics:
"Wun Long Pan, Is famous Chinese Detective,
Wun Long Pan, He gives the crooks a chase.
Wun Long Pan, Is famous Chinese Detective,
Wun Long Pan, He always solves the case."
Here's the picture that accompanies this simple, clunky tune:
The year before I started piano lessons and learned to play "Wun Long Pan," my second-grade teacher taught us about Mao Zedong, whose name at the time was spelled in English as Mao Tse-tung. He had most likely appeared in an issue of My Weekly Reader. All I remember about this lesson is the way my teacher pronounced his name: Mayo Tease Tongue.
Wun Long Pan and Mayo Tease Tongue were my introductions to Chinese culture in the early 1960s. The sad thing is I don't think much has changed since then. Too many Americans wouldn't object to the illustration of Detective Pan, the absurdity of his name, or the disturbing syntax of the lyrics. Moreover, newscasters and politicians continue to mispronounce Asian names, either as deliberate insults or as insensitive slights. As one student said in response to a survey at the University of Alberta, "It is important for me to have my heritage name pronounced correctly because it makes me feel like I belong."
Exactly. That's one of our main problems today. Too many fellow citizens feel unwelcome and unworthy, as if they don't belong. We can fix this, and it begins with respect: treating others as we would have them treat us. Sound familiar?
All of the cold rain last month finally gave way to something lovely . . .
The cascading flowers of this Pieris Katsura are like Elton John's tiny dancer, ballerinas in the palm of my hand.
Hellebores plants hide their flowers well, though not well enough. They tilt their faces down, but you can still see their freckles and fingers teasing shyly. Beguiling queens.
Yellow defines spring, and daffodils, like ladies-in-waiting, bloom everywhere--happy and willing to delight. As A. A. Milne wrote, "She turned to the sunlight and shook her yellow head, and whispered to her neighbor. Winter is dead."
Finally, from Sesame Street, "One of these things is not like the others/One of these things just doesn't belong/Can you tell which thing is not like the others/By the time I finish my song?" (Hint: the not-so-subtle color)
I'm out of town, and it's been a long day . . . but still I watched Oprah's interview with Meghan Markle and Prince Harry tonight. All three seemed honest and earnest and, in Meghan's case, sad. Clearly she's become a target for the British tabloids and, at the same time, unsupported by the royal family. To say that she's endured racist attacks is an understatement.
The interview wasn't totally depressing, however. My favorite line came at the end when Oprah asked Meghan and Harry about their lives now. Harry talked about his love for his growing family and his pride in his wife, and then he added, "The dogs are really happy."
This made me smile. There's hope for Meghan and Harry.
The ridiculous statue of Donald Trump showcased this weekend at CPAC reminds me of Percy Bysshe Shelley's sonnet "Ozymandias," written in 1817. Using the image of the decaying statue of Ramses II, Shelley reflects on the transience of political power and of those whose hubris governs their actions. As the statue of Ozymandias fades under the Egyptian sun, the sand and wind take over, and nothing remains of the former tyrant.
Here's a revised version of Shelley's sonnet:
I met a traveller from the USA
Who said: "Two vast and Trumpless legs of chrome
Stand in the desert . . . Near them on the sand
Half sunk, a shattered orange face lies, whose vain
And vulgar mien, and sneer of cold command,
Tell of his heartless deeds and hateful ways
Which yet survive, stamped on this tasteless mold
Of glitz and gold.
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| Image by Miranda Straubel |
And on his flip-flopped feet these words appear:
'My name is DonaldMandias, a very stable genius,
The best of all that's ever been!'
Now nothing else of Trump remains.
This gaudy wreck, this statue gone,
While lone and level sands stretch far away."
The photo of Ted Cruz's dog Snowflake, alone at the front door with the family on vacation in Cancún, created a familiar image: that of a dog, forlorn and abandoned, without his people friends nearby. The picture isn't even a close-up, yet you get a sense of how Snowflake felt. Or how you think Snowflake felt. Dogs have long conveyed human emotions, particularly to those of us who've lived with them. Even my porcelain and brass dogs have something to say:
Among Donald Trump's many betrayals on January 6--of the Constitution, of the Congress, of the Capitol staff, and of the American people--was his betrayal of his devoted vice president. No one can deny that the insurrectionists came close to murdering Mike Pence, and no one can deny that Donald Trump did nothing to stop them. Moreover, after hearing the facts presented in the impeachment trial, no one should deny that Donald Trump incited the mob in the first place.
Maintaining the spirit of Mother Goose rhymes, which were often political parodies, here's a new version of "Sing A Song of Six Pence."
Sing a song of Mike Pence, a martyr to the cause,
Three and forty votes cast, trashing US laws;
When the votes were counted, the right began to sing,
This is what we do because we want to please our king.
The king was in the White House, watching all with glee,
He tried to call Tom T'ville, instead he got Mike Lee;
He hoped to get the count stopped, to force Joe B to lose;
While all along the rioters sought Mike to fit their noose.
Harrowing indeed.
Shame on those 43 senators.
Marjorie Taylor Greene, the notorious QAnon legislator from Georgia, is giving all of us Marjories a bad name. Test your knowledge of some other notable namesakes:
1. Marjorie Jacqueline Simpson
A. Winner at Wimbledon in 1955.
B. Full name of the title character in the 1950s TV show My Little
Margie.
C. Famous TV mom with blue hair.
D. Early 20th-century American impressionist painter.
2. Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings
A. Author of The Yearling.
B. Author of Harriet the Spy.
C. Author of The Secret Garden.
D. Author of A Tale of Two Cities.
3. Marjorie Finlay
A. Lead Disney animator for Bambi.
B. Taylor Swift's grandmother.
C. First woman aboard the International Space Station.
D. Annie Oakley's mother.
4. Marjorie Morningstar
A. Owner of MorningStar Farms grocery line.
B. First woman to serve in Congress.
C. Mother in My Friend Flicka.
D. Novel by Herman Wouk.
5. Marjorie Eileen Dursley
A. Fred Flintstone's aunt.
B. Harry Potter's aunt.
C. Leslie Knope's aunt.
D. Princess Leia's aunt.
How'd you do? Answers below.
Step aside, Marjorie Taylor Greene. You've disgraced our name, and we're taking it back!
When I heard that Cloris Leachman died last Thursday, I thought of her role in The Mary Tyler Moore Show. Starring as Phyllis Lindrom, Mary's snobby landlord and downstairs neighbor, Leachman delivered outstanding comedy whenever she appeared. In fact, two other women on the show did the same: Moore as Mary Richards and Valerie Harper as Rhoda Morgenstern. Together they created a world of funny women who made me laugh week after week, from 1970 - 1977.
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| Phyllis, Mary, and Rhoda's House |
They weren't the first, of course. Lucille Ball's I Love Lucy, beginning in 1951, aired as reruns when I was a kid in the 60s. I also liked Carol Burnett. Her late-night shows were perfect for babysitting jobs; she came on at 10:00 after the kids were in bed, and I would laugh at her hilarious sketches. Like Mary Tyler Moore, both Lucille Ball and Carol Burnett starred in shows named for themselves, unusual for women at that time.
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| Carol Burnett |
In fact, I remember my mother taking me to a program in 1970 when I was 14 that featured a slideshow of stereotypical roles held by women: housewives, teachers, nurses, secretaries, and stewardesses (as they were called then). These images appeared everywhere, as the presentation demonstrated--in advertising, children's literature, and popular culture. I no doubt remember this program because it marked the realization of something new: women could become more than the five roles that marked my childhood.
Around this same time came The Mary Tyler Moore Show. I had already grown to love Moore from her performance as Laura Petrie in The Dick Van Dyke Show, but now she had her own series. As the single adult Mary Richards living in Minneapolis, she became an example of a woman who could live on her own. She enjoyed her career and supported herself. Valerie Harper as Rhoda did the same. Though Phyllis (Leachman) was married, her husband Lars never appeared, and we often saw Phyllis as the refreshingly flawed mother of Bess (in contrast to the idealized mothers of June Cleaver in Leave It To Beaver and Margaret Anderson in Father Knows Best).
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| Bess & Mary |
Beyond the new role models that these characters portrayed, though, was the notion that women could be funny. This wasn't obvious then with comedians like Bob Hope, George Burns, Jack Benny, Don Rickles, and Johnny Carson prominent on TV. Frankly, women weren't even supposed to be funny; they might upstage men or appear unfeminine. At most they should laugh at men's jokes, not the other way around. But Mary Tyler Moore and her co-stars began to unravel yet another stereotype and brought women's voices to comedy, opening up the possibility for others to follow.
And best of all, they made me laugh.
What was it about Lady Gaga, Bernie Sanders, and Katy Perry that made such a difference last week? The inauguration certainly featured many poignant moments: the swearing-in of Kamala Harris, the calming speech of Joe Biden, the poetry of Amanda Gorman, and perhaps most of all the setting--the US Capitol in all of its beauty, still standing and dignified, recovering from January 6.
I rang my cowbell on the porch after our new president was sworn in on Wednesday, and my husband banged on pots. "Our long national nightmare is over," President Gerald Ford said over 46 years ago when he became our 38th president, describing my feelings about this inauguration. Huge problems persist, of course, but at least, as President Biden made clear, we'll be led by competence and ethics.
As reassuring as the formal inauguration was in its presentation, though, I found myself most moved by some of the supporting characters. When Lady Gaga emerged from inside the Capitol on the arm of Capt. Evan Campbell to sing our national anthem, she created an unforgettable moment. Her full red skirt, billowing and trailing on that cold morning, sent an unmistakable message: Go big and go bold. If "America is back," as many world leaders tweeted that day, it will be because President Biden acts with courage and vision and because the majority of our citizens follow his lead. There's no room for fear and timidity, as Lady Gaga well knows.
While Bernie Sanders began Inauguration Day as an unassuming elder statesman dressed for the cold, he ended up in a starring role. The image of him seated in a folding chair, arms crossed, wrapped in a brown parka and wearing thick, wooly mittens captured the imagination of creators everywhere. His image appeared on the moon, in The Wizard of Oz, with workers in "Lunch Atop a Skyscraper," and in Edward Hopper's "Nighthawks." The memes made me laugh out loud with more images appearing, it seemed, by the hour. Finally, we could laugh again, as four years of pent-up anxiety broke free. This latest Bernie Sanders meme is what we needed.
The day's crowning moment came at the finale of Celebrating America, the evening's entertainment; Katy Perry stood on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial and sang "Firework" as a spectacular display lit up the sky. With her usual passion, she, too, seemed to unleash a moment. The opening lyrics alone capture the feelings of many of us living under Donald Trump's reign: "Did you ever feel like a plastic bag/Drifting through the wind, wanting to start again." As the song builds in momentum, however, it becomes one of hope, where Perry--not unlike Lady Gaga--urges boldness, to "own the night/Like the Fourth of July." The fireworks overhead served only to underscore the intensity of Perry's message.
Perhaps there's satisfaction in knowing that Donald Trump could have never commanded the talent that performed that day, including Jennifer Lopez, Garth Brooks, Bruce Springsteen, and John Legend. Nor could his mean-spirited attitude towards his enemies foster the good humor that arose from Senator Sanders in his chair. No, the stewing rage of Trump's supporters that boiled over on January 6 is no match for the exhilaration that characterized Inauguration Day--when music and humor, ideas and ideals erupted with joyful audacity.
We've almost made it. Four awful years with President Trump whittled down to barely three remaining days.
Here are some of the people I won't miss:
De facto advisors like the MyPillow guy and the Fox and Friends team.
Pseudo-lawyers like Rudy Giuliani and Sidney Powell.
Nepotistic heirs, you know their names.
Deceitful press secretaries like Sarah Huckabee Sanders and Kayleigh McEnany.
Destructive cabinet secretaries like Betsy DeVos and Mike Pompeo.
Here are some of the qualities I won't miss:
A president who separated families.
A president who ignored science.
A president who lied.
A president who mocked his people.
A president who fostered white supremacy.
When Joe Biden takes the oath of office at noon on Wednesday, January 20, we get to start over. Sort of. We can't forget the last four years or banish these unfortunate characters and the values they espoused, but we can expect a new standard of governing. And with it, a renewed pride in our country.
How will Republican lawmakers censure Donald Trump for his incendiary role in Wednesday's attack on the US Capitol? Will they encourage the use of the 25th Amendment? Pressure him to resign? Support impeachment?
So far, as the Washington Post reported yesterday, "Republicans [are] largely silent about [the] consequences of [the] deadly attack and Trump's role in inciting it . . . Republican leaders [have] yet to hold anyone accountable." True, Senators Lisa Murkowski of Alaska and Pat Toomey of Pennsylvania have called for Trump's resignation, and Politico notes that several Republicans have expressed private support for Trump's removal. Still, the collective response is silence . . .
Big whoop.
McConnell has enabled Donald Trump's malfeasance since the start of this presidency. He's winked and nodded for four years so that he could secure judgeships and tax cuts for the rich. Congressional Republicans, a few notable exceptions notwithstanding, have joined him. When Joe Biden won the election in November, these same Republicans once again remained silent. What harm, they asked, in allowing Trump to claim a fraudulent, stolen election?
I hope they found out.
Remaining silent, winking and nodding at Mike Pence, should not be an option for Republicans, certainly not for their leadership. They should be speaking on talk shows, posting to social media, and interviewing with newspapers--wherever they might reach uninformed citizens--to tell them the truth: Joe Biden won this election. No fraud. No steal. They should further speak out against their president: Donald Trump was wrong to incite violence. Finally, they should be doing whatever they can to get Trump out of office and to speak publicly about their efforts.
Clear, consistent messages could make a difference, at least for the future. If Republicans can't get rid of Trump now, maybe they can undo some of the damage they've caused. For we cannot expect to preserve our democracy as long as election results remain in doubt for so many citizens. The angry, armed mob already broke through the gates, and we can't afford for them to do so again.
Three days from now, on Wednesday, January 6, the United States Congress will meet to certify the winner of the 2020 presidential race. President-elect Joe Biden defeated Donald Trump in November by over 7 million votes in the popular election and by 74 votes in the Electoral College. The Trump campaign's efforts to sue several states for voter fraud have failed in over 40 cases. District Court Judge J. Nicholas Ranjan of Pennsylvania said, in dismissing one of the cases, that "this claim, like Frankenstein's monster, has been haphazardly stitched together . . . This court has been presented with strained legal arguments without merit and speculative accusations . . . unsupported by evidence."
Frankenstein's monster indeed.
It's what the Republican Party has created repeatedly in its subservience to Donald Trump, and it's what brings us now to the latest outrage: the group of 12 Republican senators and over 100 representatives who plan to oppose the count of votes on January 6. What an interesting coincidence that this disgraceful devilry will occur on Epiphany, the Christian celebration of the Magi's visit. Epiphany has also come to mean "a moment of sudden revelation or insight."
Can we count on any of these spineless senators and representatives to experience epiphany, to see the danger of their actions? Not likely, when their circular logic spins on its own deceit. Senator Ted Cruz, leader of the twelve senators, said today, "We've seen in the last two months unprecedented allegations of voter fraud . . . We have an obligation to protect the integrity of the democratic system." Allegations, yes. Proof, no. The courts have ruled; the democratic system was upheld. That the likes of Cruz and his comrades continue to hoodwink Trump supporters doesn't validate the false narrative.
Shakespeare's play Twelfth Night, also a reference to Epiphany, offers us two quotes as we contemplate these Republicans' actions. In Act 2, Scene ii, Viola says,
"O time, thou must untangle this, not I.
Who will untie this knot that Republicans have created? Certainly not Mitch McConnell, who enabled his corrupt president from the start. Certainly not the so-called moderate Republicans--Susan Collins, Lisa Murkowski, Mitt Romney, or Ben Sasse--whose actions rarely support their words of protest. Certainly not the the right-wing media that continues to promote lies and foment discord. New leadership under Joe Biden will make a difference, of course, as he will begin to restore integrity and respect. But William Shakespeare may have it right in the end: time may be our only salvation.
Finally, again from Viola, Act 2, Scene i, a lament for all of us:
"What country, friends, is this?"
Twas the night before Christmas, and all was quite tense,
Not a creature was stirring, not even Mike Pence;
The ballots were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that a recount soon would be there;
Don's children were falling asleep in their beds;
While visions of "Four More Years" danced in their heads;
Now Rudy was sweating, and Don was irate,
The chance for an upset had passed one more date.
Then out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
They threw open the sash to see what was the matter.
The protesters stood on the new-fallen snow,
Shouting "Donald, it's time, we insist that you go!"
When what to his wandering eyes did appear,
But a Democrat's sleigh and eight liberal reindeer,
And a little old driver who seemed all aglow,
That Don knew in a moment this must be St. Joe.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And they whistled and shouted and called him by name:
"Now Donald! You're done for, quit scheming away,
For all you've destroyed, it's time that you pay."
And they carried him off from that famous White House,
And nobody stirred, not even a mouse.
A top story in today's Washington Post, "Biden's Obama-era Cabinet picks frustrate liberals, civil rights leaders," summarizes my feelings about the nomination process so far. As journalists Seung Min Kim and Annie Linskey point out, Biden has selected seven women and nine people of color for 14 Cabinet posts, but unfortunately the average age is 63 and about 80% previously worked in the Obama administration.
The Democratic Party needs younger people in top positions. Its leadership has remained the same for decades, and those with name recognition--such as Nancy Pelosi, John Kerry, and Chuck Schumer--tend to be over 70 years old. This is not only politically unwise, as we lack young and experienced leaders, but it's strategically unwise as well: many of today's challenges require facility with technology and contemporary culture. Think climate change, civil rights, internet security and regulation, and genetic engineering.
Those nominees from the Obama administration served from 2009 - 2017, as long as 11 years ago. Many of today's issues have evolved since then or weren't well addressed at the time. The pandemic, of course, has upended everything, but even challenges like gun violence, income inequality, and health care costs remain as persistently problematic as they were under President Obama.
Of the recycled nominees named so far, the one that troubles me the most is Tom Vilsack for Secretary of Agriculture. I recall him as being insensitive to protections for both animals and workers, and I've been reminded of additional shortcomings. An article in Vox by Dylan Matthews lays out the concerns: Vilsack's "nomination has sparked immediate controversy and consternation among civil rights, animal, anti-monopoly, and family farm advocates who were disappointed in his prior tenure." Isn't there someone better for the job?
Yes, I believe so. But does it matter? We're finishing four years of a Trump administration filled with incompetence and conflicts of interest. Sonny Perdue, our current Secretary of Agriculture, "faced more than a dozen ethics complaints" when he was governor of Georgia, as reported by Ryan McCrimmon in Politico, and "he was found to have funneled illegal amounts of money from his businesses to his campaign in 2002." Perdue is facing renewed ethics questions because of "his numerous and labyrinthine interests in agribusiness and land development."
The list of compromised Cabinet members in the Trump administration doesn't stop with Perdue. Others cited for ethics violations, according to Bloomberg, include Scott Pruitt, former EPA administrator; Wilber Ross, Commerce Secretary; Ryan Zinke, former Interior Secretary; Betsy DeVos, Education Secretary; Tom Price, former Health and Human Services Secretary; and Ben Carson, Housing and Urban Development Secretary.
Clearly Donald Trump and his team set a low standard for public service. Joe Biden's is much higher. His nominees are competent, experienced, and professional, and many have been vetted in their previous jobs for conflicts of interest. As a group, however, they're older than I would like, and they're not as diverse as I had hoped. But they will steer us back to integrity and respectability, and they will serve the interests of their agencies and not the interests of their personal pocketbooks.
A refreshing and necessary change in Cabinet leadership.
When President-elect Joe Biden announced his choice to lead the Office of Management and Budget (OMB) last Monday, many pundits claimed that Republican senators would sink Neera Tanden's confirmation. Hers would be the sacrificial nomination that Republicans could comfortably thwart. She's "unfit to be confirmed by the U.S. Senate," Tom Cotton of Arkansas said, because of her frequent nasty tweets about Donald Trump and his congressional allies.
Democrats attacked the hypocrisy. Claire McCaskill, former senator from Missouri, said on MSNBC, "We've had a president who has used his Twitter account like a battering ram. Now all of a sudden it's a disqualification for someone to serve in the cabinet that engaged in her own opinion on Twitter?" Biden suggested the same in his Tuesday interview with Thomas Friedman, saying that such Twitter use "disqualifies almost every Republican senator and 90% of the [Trump] administration."
The controversy about Tanden, a former adviser to Hillary Clinton, grew as liberal Democrats criticized her nomination. Supporters and staff of Senator Bernie Sanders "seethed" at the announcement; as Holly Otterbein writes in Politico, "Tanden is one of the Democratic elites who helped sink [Sanders's] 2016 campaign behind the scenes, not to mention a union-buster, a threat to Social Security, a hippie-puncher who constantly picks fights with the left, and much more."
That Tanden apparently "punched" or "slugged" or "pushed" Sanders's 2020 campaign manager Faiz Shakir years ago has added to the dissension. Writing in The Guardian, Arwa Mahdawi asserts that "Neera Tanden's unremorseful bullying should disqualify her from Biden's cabinet." Mahdawi argues that the fact that women are held to higher standards of behavior than men are doesn't excuse women's behavior; rather, we should hold everyone similarly accountable. "If you can't manage your temper," Mahdawi concludes, "you shouldn't be managing the budget."
Tanden's problems with the left don't end here. As the Washington Post reported yesterday, Tanden's work for the last nine years heading the liberal Center for American Progress (CAP) has led to fund-raising efforts with "deep-pocketed donors who made their fortunes on Wall Street, in Silicon Valley and in other powerful sectors of corporate America." If her nomination goes through, "Tanden [will] have a hand in policies that touch every part of the economy after years spent courting corporate and foreign donors." Though Tanden has support from Senators Elizabeth Warren and Sherrod Brown, prominent progressives who respect her ethical standards, she still faces questions from others.
Why so much interest in Neera Tanden? Perhaps because the controversies that surround her reflect the conflicts we face in U.S. politics today. Women in power, especially women of color, still attract suspicion. As the daughter of Indian immigrants, she has a name that most Americans don't recognize. And what about Tanden's bullying? In the wake of unprecedented presidential bullying, should we care? When Amy Klobuchar announced her presidential candidacy in February 2019, many stories highlighted her treatment of her congressional staff. We tend not to hear these stories about men. There's also the role that corporate and foreign wealth play in our politics. Progressive think tanks depend on this money as much as conservative ones, and the staffs of Republican and Democratic administrations alike cycle through high-powered jobs with inherent conflicts of interest.
Neera Tanden's nomination illuminates the messy, uncomfortable sides of politics. But is she qualified for the job? Undoubtedly. After four years of incompetent and inexperienced officials directing government agencies, she's an excellent choice. Still, the challenges of gender, race, temperament, and money persist even as Democrats take charge--challenges that won't go away easily, it's important to note.
Something light for a change. . . the Bidens are getting a cat. We've already learned about their two German shepherds Champ and Major, delighting those of us who love animals. The thought of three pets in the White House is almost dizzying considering how deprived we've been these last four years.
Would it have made a difference to watch Donald Trump head towards Air Force One with a golden retriever by his side? Or see him in the Oval Office with a tabby cat curled at his feet? Probably not, but we might have smiled now and then instead of feeling anxious every time he spoke. After all, even Richard Nixon had Checkers (and, as it turns out, Vicky, Pasha, and King Timahoe).
But better days are ahead. Joe's one of us, whether we prefer dogs or cats. His choice of both echoes his calls for unity, and here's a way for us to get along. For as George Eliot said, "Animals are such agreeable friends they ask no questions, they pass no criticisms."
As the results of the presidential election became clear earlier this month, I knew that our president would seek to create chaos, but I never imagined that ordinary citizens would save us. I thought that at least some Republican legislators, other than Mitt Romney, would object to these destructive attempts to override voters' wishes. I wondered if Mitch McConnell would finally defend the Constitution. I hoped that prominent generals would issue a joint statement of condemnation.
Silly me.
Instead, working people did their jobs, starting with postal employees who handled and delivered an unprecedented number of absentee ballots. Despite efforts to hamper their work through the removal of mail-sorting machines and Louis DeJoy's attempted cost-cutting proposals, the United States Postal Service processed over 122 million ballots this year.
Elections officials at all levels followed the model of postal employees, working long hours on election day and beyond to ensure an accurate count. Moreover, several workers reported not just harassment, but violent threats as well, for doing their jobs. Al Schmidt, the Republican City Commissioner of Philadelphia, said that "his office [was] receiving death threats for counting votes in a democracy." Poll workers in Michigan and Arizona reported similar intimidation, and in Georgia, Republican Secretary of State Brad Raffensperger said that both he and his wife had received death threats. One text read, "You better not botch this recount. Your life depends on it."
Yet despite the long hours, the insults, and the threats, elections officials have resisted intense pressure and begun to certify the results of this election. Republican and Democratic officials both have fulfilled their oaths of office to ensure an accurate count. Indeed, our fellow citizens are thwarting Donald Trump and his lawless attorneys.
Theirs is ordinary courage, in a way, if courage is ever ordinary.
But what about Congressional Republicans and senior White House officials? Where's their courage? We are fortunate to have honest, hard-working postal workers and election officials who value integrity. Were it equally true in Washington.
