Elizabeth Edwards passed away today at the age of 61, leaving behind three children and joining a fourth. Keep her earthly children in your prayers.
Elizabeth had the forethought to record her advice and wisdom for her young kids knowing she would not be there when they needed it. It saddens me that she has left behind two children under the age of 18. I'm not a mom, but I know most mothers live for two things: To raise all their children to adulthood and, if they're lucky, live to see their own grandchildren. Elizabeth Edwards will not achieve either of these goals.
When I turned 18, it was the most momentous coming-of-age moment for my parents because my turning 18 signaled they were done. They had gotten six kids to the age of adulthood, without pregnancies or prison time and with high school diplomas. For two black parents who had not finished high school, they were relieved. Their job was done. And, they lived to see their grandchildren.
I'm not a mom, but I can't even imagine what a mother must feel leaving behind her young children and hoping that someone will love them as much as she would and will raise them as she would. Had John Edwards shown himself to be someone still capable of good moral choices, I would imagine this would not have been as much of a concern for Elizabeth. But he didn't.
I voted for John Edwards in 2008 presidential Democratic primary because he talked about issues of class divide and inequity, which even candidate Obama wasn't really addressing, and because I wanted Elizabeth Edwards to be First Lady. I thought her passion for children and compassion for others would be the gentle and loving presence the White House needed in a First Lady. I hoped she would lead us to be our better selves as people and as citizens. Luckily, through the example of how she lived her life and the words she left behind in the pages of her books, we can follow in her footsteps and be our better selves. I am thankful that she shared so much of herself with us.
I hope Elizabeth Edwards has ascended to a heavenly reunion with her son, Wade. Godspeed, Elizabeth Edwards, and may the Lord bless and keep you in his loving arms.
Showing posts with label John Edwards. Show all posts
Showing posts with label John Edwards. Show all posts
Broke Cuisine
I recently heard from one subscriber to this blog – my sister, to be exact. She said she hadn’t read my views on John Edwards’ infidelity (pretty much a Democratic party male norm, to wit: Gary Hart, Bill Clinton, John F. Kennedy, Franklin D. Roosevelt, Antonio Villaraigosa, Rev. Jesse Jackson (not only a philanderer but a spiritual counselor to philanderers)) or seen any comments by me on the passing of Isaac Hayes or Bernie Mac (both major losses to the African American creative community). What happened to Black Woman Blogging?
She’s now Black Woman Sleep Deprived. Now that I have a ‘tween living with me five days a week and going to PS 7, my days are planned around carpools, back-to-school night, checking homework and making lunches. My day starts at 5:00 am and ends at 10:30 or 11 pm. A big transition from my DINK (Double Income No Kids) lifestyle of less than a month ago.
In fact, when I embarked on this path, I became yet again in awe of my mom, SWIE, and the fact that she did what I’m doing with not just one child but with six children, seven days a week, not five. And of how she would make dishes that seemed so special to us but were in fact the product of two facts: 1) She was broke; and 2) she had six mouths to feed. I call these dishes “broke cuisine.”
I started thinking about “broke cuisine” because I had a hankerin’ for one of my favorite broke cuisine foods: Egg rice. My mother used to make this for breakfast on Saturday mornings, and I couldn’t think of the last time I had had it. I asked BMNB if he’d ever had egg rice. He, the Southerner for whom a day without grits is a day without sunshine, turned his head sideways and looked at me as if I were an alien. Nope, he had never even heard of egg rice. I exclaimed, “Egg rice was THE BOMB!” When I mentioned egg rice to my older sisters, they reminded me that that was what SWIE would make us for breakfast when she was broke. It figures – egg rice consists of leftover white rice sautéed with onion, with a seasoned scrambled egg or two added with crumbled bacon bits and salt and pepper to taste. Good eatin’, folks. I had no idea as a child that we were having egg rice because she was broke. I thought it was a special treat.
As a child, I also thought that “breakfast for dinner” was a special treat. I would rack my tiny mind trying to figure out what we kids had done that was so special that we got to have breakfast for dinner – pancakes, eggs, bacon, you name it. Again, Mom was broke. When I would brag at school the next day that I got to have breakfast for dinner the night before, my mom would later tell me not to tell people that we had had breakfast for dinner. As a small child, I couldn’t understand why. Now I get it.
One of my older sisters reminded me of another “broke cuisine” specialty of SWIE: Pork fried rice. My mom would take one or two leftover pork chops or any leftover pork, chop it up into tiny, tiny bits, saute them with white rice, add soy sauce and saute some more until the rice turned brown, add a seasoned scrambled egg and – here’s the variation – green onions. To this day I think my mom made better pork fried rice than most Chinese restaurants.
My oldest sister reminded me of another broke cuisine staple: Bean burritos. SWIE would take leftover chili beans and put them in burritos with rice to make the beans stretch. Again, good eatin’. I was blissfully unaware as a child that this was indeed broke cuisine. I was too busy smacking my lips and going back for seconds.
I don’t know if I’ll ever be as creative in the kitchen as my mom was. Through her cooking creativity, she shielded me from the truth of our condition – that, more often than not, our family was broke. You couldn’t have told the six year-old me, though – heck, I’d just had breakfast for dinner last night, so life was good.
What’s your broke cuisine?
She’s now Black Woman Sleep Deprived. Now that I have a ‘tween living with me five days a week and going to PS 7, my days are planned around carpools, back-to-school night, checking homework and making lunches. My day starts at 5:00 am and ends at 10:30 or 11 pm. A big transition from my DINK (Double Income No Kids) lifestyle of less than a month ago.
In fact, when I embarked on this path, I became yet again in awe of my mom, SWIE, and the fact that she did what I’m doing with not just one child but with six children, seven days a week, not five. And of how she would make dishes that seemed so special to us but were in fact the product of two facts: 1) She was broke; and 2) she had six mouths to feed. I call these dishes “broke cuisine.”
I started thinking about “broke cuisine” because I had a hankerin’ for one of my favorite broke cuisine foods: Egg rice. My mother used to make this for breakfast on Saturday mornings, and I couldn’t think of the last time I had had it. I asked BMNB if he’d ever had egg rice. He, the Southerner for whom a day without grits is a day without sunshine, turned his head sideways and looked at me as if I were an alien. Nope, he had never even heard of egg rice. I exclaimed, “Egg rice was THE BOMB!” When I mentioned egg rice to my older sisters, they reminded me that that was what SWIE would make us for breakfast when she was broke. It figures – egg rice consists of leftover white rice sautéed with onion, with a seasoned scrambled egg or two added with crumbled bacon bits and salt and pepper to taste. Good eatin’, folks. I had no idea as a child that we were having egg rice because she was broke. I thought it was a special treat.
As a child, I also thought that “breakfast for dinner” was a special treat. I would rack my tiny mind trying to figure out what we kids had done that was so special that we got to have breakfast for dinner – pancakes, eggs, bacon, you name it. Again, Mom was broke. When I would brag at school the next day that I got to have breakfast for dinner the night before, my mom would later tell me not to tell people that we had had breakfast for dinner. As a small child, I couldn’t understand why. Now I get it.
One of my older sisters reminded me of another “broke cuisine” specialty of SWIE: Pork fried rice. My mom would take one or two leftover pork chops or any leftover pork, chop it up into tiny, tiny bits, saute them with white rice, add soy sauce and saute some more until the rice turned brown, add a seasoned scrambled egg and – here’s the variation – green onions. To this day I think my mom made better pork fried rice than most Chinese restaurants.
My oldest sister reminded me of another broke cuisine staple: Bean burritos. SWIE would take leftover chili beans and put them in burritos with rice to make the beans stretch. Again, good eatin’. I was blissfully unaware as a child that this was indeed broke cuisine. I was too busy smacking my lips and going back for seconds.
I don’t know if I’ll ever be as creative in the kitchen as my mom was. Through her cooking creativity, she shielded me from the truth of our condition – that, more often than not, our family was broke. You couldn’t have told the six year-old me, though – heck, I’d just had breakfast for dinner last night, so life was good.
What’s your broke cuisine?
The Rise and Fall of the Moman
Moman: A woman who believes she can succeed in competing against men by acting more masculine than men.
I think Hillary Clinton’s victory in New Hampshire is due in large part to one factor: For a brief moment, she stopped being a moman.
Now, I don’t have anything against strong women. I am one. But I also believe that women experience the world differently, and to ignore those differences in service of the idea that a woman has to be more masculine than a man to succeed is a disservice to women. When Hillary allegedly “found her voice,” I would suppose it was more feminine this time around.
Not girly, but feminine.
We all experienced the momen of the ‘80s, with their uptight suits with the padded shoulders and blouses buttoned up to their chins. With their newly minted degrees, they were determined to out-man men to succeed in corporate America – putting off childbearing and demeaning those to whom family and children were important as not committed to women’s equality; working more hours than men, no matter the cost to their family relationships and health; walking and talking like them. Momen dictated to the rest of the female sex what success was going to look like, and oddly enough, it looked just like the flawed American white male paradigm. The quintessential moman is Margaret Thatcher, and I don’t think anyone in American wants a Thatcher clone.
The '80's momen discovered that, no matter how much they tried to imitate men, they would never be accepted as equals to men. Too bad they didn’t figure this out before their fertility waned. It took until the ‘90’s for momen to wake up and say: I’m going to flip the script. I’m going to succeed on my own terms without playing like a man. I’m going to succeed as a woman, not a woman imitating a man.
The problem with Hillary coming into New Hampshire, IMHO, was that she had morphed into a quintessential moman – talking about the issues in strident, nasal-inflected tones, going negative on Obama and Edwards when she really needed to be more like second-term Bill Clinton, “feeling our pain” in words that didn’t sound stilted and scripted.
Well, I think she broke through her moman shell with her display of emotion. And it resonated. And women flocked back to her. If she’s going to win the nomination, it will be because of 40-70 year-old old-guard feminists who, pardon the expression, have the balls to stand up to the nation and say: We got next. It’s our time. But in order for Hillary to keep these women on her side, she has to campaign like a woman, with the promise that she will govern like a woman. The moman thing just wasn’t working. Hell, if we wanted another guy in the White House, not only is this year’s field of male Democratic candidates interesting enough, but they're eye candy, too. And they don’t have any problem disassociating themselves from the Iraq War because, unlike a moman, they’re not afraid to admit that they were wrong on the issue in the first place.
So, memo to Hillary: Stop with the moman crap. Run like the woman you are. Give voters your vision of why a woman-governed U.S. might be different and better and more inclusive. Then, just then, you might just win this thing.
I think Hillary Clinton’s victory in New Hampshire is due in large part to one factor: For a brief moment, she stopped being a moman.
Now, I don’t have anything against strong women. I am one. But I also believe that women experience the world differently, and to ignore those differences in service of the idea that a woman has to be more masculine than a man to succeed is a disservice to women. When Hillary allegedly “found her voice,” I would suppose it was more feminine this time around.
Not girly, but feminine.
We all experienced the momen of the ‘80s, with their uptight suits with the padded shoulders and blouses buttoned up to their chins. With their newly minted degrees, they were determined to out-man men to succeed in corporate America – putting off childbearing and demeaning those to whom family and children were important as not committed to women’s equality; working more hours than men, no matter the cost to their family relationships and health; walking and talking like them. Momen dictated to the rest of the female sex what success was going to look like, and oddly enough, it looked just like the flawed American white male paradigm. The quintessential moman is Margaret Thatcher, and I don’t think anyone in American wants a Thatcher clone.
The '80's momen discovered that, no matter how much they tried to imitate men, they would never be accepted as equals to men. Too bad they didn’t figure this out before their fertility waned. It took until the ‘90’s for momen to wake up and say: I’m going to flip the script. I’m going to succeed on my own terms without playing like a man. I’m going to succeed as a woman, not a woman imitating a man.
The problem with Hillary coming into New Hampshire, IMHO, was that she had morphed into a quintessential moman – talking about the issues in strident, nasal-inflected tones, going negative on Obama and Edwards when she really needed to be more like second-term Bill Clinton, “feeling our pain” in words that didn’t sound stilted and scripted.
Well, I think she broke through her moman shell with her display of emotion. And it resonated. And women flocked back to her. If she’s going to win the nomination, it will be because of 40-70 year-old old-guard feminists who, pardon the expression, have the balls to stand up to the nation and say: We got next. It’s our time. But in order for Hillary to keep these women on her side, she has to campaign like a woman, with the promise that she will govern like a woman. The moman thing just wasn’t working. Hell, if we wanted another guy in the White House, not only is this year’s field of male Democratic candidates interesting enough, but they're eye candy, too. And they don’t have any problem disassociating themselves from the Iraq War because, unlike a moman, they’re not afraid to admit that they were wrong on the issue in the first place.
So, memo to Hillary: Stop with the moman crap. Run like the woman you are. Give voters your vision of why a woman-governed U.S. might be different and better and more inclusive. Then, just then, you might just win this thing.
Obama, Hillary Got Barack'd! Obamaudacity On The Move
"Obama, he Barack'd my world!"
Grace Adler, commenting on her "dream" about Barack Obama, Will and Grace
Well, it looks like 1) I might not be the political jinx I thought I was, and 2) Hillary Clinton got Barack'd in Iowa, and not in the same way Grace Adler from Will and Grace describes her "dream" experience with Obama. Clinton didn't even tie or come in second; she came up a bit short behind Edwards.
Looks like we have a real primary going on, not some insipid coronation.
And, as I referenced in my previous Obamadacity post, it was, in large part, due to young voters turning out, many for the first time.
I couldn't be more proud.
That so many young voters -- most of them college students, I understand -- turned out in bone-chilling weather to send a statement not only to the country but to the Democratic Party Establishment that, this time around, they would not be denied, makes me proud.
Proud that perhaps young people are taking their country back.
To all those young voters in Iowa, and those young voters who have yet to but intend to vote, I applaud and salute you. Ella Baker, Fannie Lou Hamer, Kwame Toure (Stokely Carmichael) and Dr. King would applaud you and salute you were they alive. They knew that the brightest and most fervent hope for an American that lives up to its principles of freedom and democracy lies with our young people.
And I love that, in a state that is 95% white, Obama was judged by the content of his character, not the color of his skin. If he keeps this up, he might not even need the African American vote -- so take note, those of my brothers and sisters who said that he's not "black enough." He might not have to be, whatever that is.
To those young voters in Iowa, I say, Barack on with your bad selves!
Obamaudacity -- coming to a Democratic Primary near you!
Grace Adler, commenting on her "dream" about Barack Obama, Will and Grace
Well, it looks like 1) I might not be the political jinx I thought I was, and 2) Hillary Clinton got Barack'd in Iowa, and not in the same way Grace Adler from Will and Grace describes her "dream" experience with Obama. Clinton didn't even tie or come in second; she came up a bit short behind Edwards.
Looks like we have a real primary going on, not some insipid coronation.
And, as I referenced in my previous Obamadacity post, it was, in large part, due to young voters turning out, many for the first time.
I couldn't be more proud.
That so many young voters -- most of them college students, I understand -- turned out in bone-chilling weather to send a statement not only to the country but to the Democratic Party Establishment that, this time around, they would not be denied, makes me proud.
Proud that perhaps young people are taking their country back.
To all those young voters in Iowa, and those young voters who have yet to but intend to vote, I applaud and salute you. Ella Baker, Fannie Lou Hamer, Kwame Toure (Stokely Carmichael) and Dr. King would applaud you and salute you were they alive. They knew that the brightest and most fervent hope for an American that lives up to its principles of freedom and democracy lies with our young people.
And I love that, in a state that is 95% white, Obama was judged by the content of his character, not the color of his skin. If he keeps this up, he might not even need the African American vote -- so take note, those of my brothers and sisters who said that he's not "black enough." He might not have to be, whatever that is.
To those young voters in Iowa, I say, Barack on with your bad selves!
Obamaudacity -- coming to a Democratic Primary near you!
Obamaudacity
Obamaudacity: The possibly irrationally exuberant belief that Barack Obama's candidacy will energize young voters, sweeping him into the White House and causing Generations X and Y to take ownership of their country.
Yes, I've been on the fence for a long time regarding what has now become the Obama/Clinton /Edwards race, partly because none of them was my first choice. Long before his movie won an Academcy Award and he shared a Nobel Prize, I had hoped that Al Gore would take all his newfound populist energy and fame and make a final run at the White House. It was not to be, but I held out hope.
But now we're getting down to the wire, and I feel like I have to choose. And, given my choices, I've come down with a mild case of Obamaudacity, for a variety of reasons.
First, I'm not a Hillary hater, but I can kinda understand those who are. I would love to see a woman in the White House as someone other than the First Lady, but I'm not certain whether Hillary is that woman. I don't think the Hillary folks truly recognize how much of the African American community's fondness for Bill is manifested as grace toward Hillary. And, as much as Bill Clinton did, most likely with Hillary's help, to increase the number of African American federal judges and to appoint African Americans to his cabinet, I'm still smarting over the Clintons' treatment of Lani Guinier. Remember her? The nominee for head of the Civil Rights Division of the Department of Justice? I hated the way she was made out to be some "quota queen." Trust me, I had to read some of her academic writings in law school, and she wasn't nearly as radical as she was made out to be. What I hated more was that the Clintons didn't defend her and she wasn't allowed to defend herself. But God and Kharma worked it all out -- she made history as the first African American woman tenured professor at Harvard Law School. But it still left an image of the Clintons in my mind as a couple that turns tail on their friends at the whiff of controversy or confrontation.
The other reason I'm not feeling Hillary is that her candidacy reminds me of the same old tired political tactics that the candidates use first to inflict harm on their party brethren and then to inflict harm on the other party's candidate. Her swipes at Barack Obama's inexperience ring hollow for me. First, I love that Obama has grassroots political experience from actually working to organize everyday people to vote. Second, her backhanded remark to the effect that spending part of one's childhood in a foreign country doesn't count as foreign policy experience lends itself to some irony and doesn't exactly ring true. If that is indeed the case, then sleeping with the president doesn't equate to foreign policy experience, either; otherwise, Monica Lewinsky would be more than qualified to be Secretary of State. She did, after all, overhear President Clinton talking to Arafat while she was in flagrante fellatio.
And, as someone who actually did live in a foreign country, albeit for a short time during college, I would beg to differ with her assessment. I studied in Spain as a college student during the Reagan years, when the dollar was at an all time high. I learned first hand the effect of U.S. monetary and foreign policy on other nations. For instance, I never understood why, when I went to the bank to change my dollars into pesetas, that I was treated with disdain. One of my Spanish classmates explained it to me curtly: "Don't you get it? Oil is bought in dollars. It's winter, and the dollar is high compared to the peseta. That means that a lot of poor people in this country won't be able to afford to heat their homes. And you come walking in the bank, exchanging dollars like they're nothing. Of course they hate you."
Talk about foreign/economic policy 101. If Obama gained even a scintilla of an other-worldly perspective on the effects of U.S. foreign and economic policy on other countries, or even an understanding of how non-Americans regard this nation, he will have brought far more of worth into the White House than its current occupant. Plus, if I haven't learned anything else from the likes of Dick Cheney and Donald Rumsfeld, I've learned this: Don't confuse experience with wisdom.
Finally, I've got Obamaudacity because of my experience teaching young people. When I taught law students, the one thing I noticed was that very few of the black law students I met were registered Democrats. Those who were registered to vote at all were primarily Independents. They didn't feel any Roosevelt/Kennedy/Clinton loyalty to the Democratic party. And they were largely apathetic, suffering from "political party fatigue." Yet, it is this very group that has the most to lose if they are not politically energized and engaged. They're Gen X and Gen Y, so that means they're going to get the sloppy seconds of the Baby Boom generation -- sloppy environment, sloppy Social Security, sloppy economy, sloppy deficit, sloppy never-ending war in Iraq, sloppy immigration policy, sloppy everything. Basically, we Baby Boomers are going to leave these young folks to clean up our mess. They might as well get started now and have a say in who is going to help them do it. And if Obama is their choice, then, as someone in the tail end of the Baby Boom generation, I want to honor their choice. To them, I imagine, he represents a clean slate unsullied by past scandals, support for the war in Iraq, and the same recycled political hacks from both parties.
I know Baby Boomers won't let go of Rolling Stones concerts -- hell, some of us would still be following the Grateful Dead if Jerry Garcia were alive -- as well as smoking doobies, endless self-improvement, and flagrant conspicuous consumption. But maybe, just maybe, we need to cede to the choices of the generations behind us. Maybe we need a case of Obamaudacity.
Yes, I've been on the fence for a long time regarding what has now become the Obama/Clinton /Edwards race, partly because none of them was my first choice. Long before his movie won an Academcy Award and he shared a Nobel Prize, I had hoped that Al Gore would take all his newfound populist energy and fame and make a final run at the White House. It was not to be, but I held out hope.
But now we're getting down to the wire, and I feel like I have to choose. And, given my choices, I've come down with a mild case of Obamaudacity, for a variety of reasons.
First, I'm not a Hillary hater, but I can kinda understand those who are. I would love to see a woman in the White House as someone other than the First Lady, but I'm not certain whether Hillary is that woman. I don't think the Hillary folks truly recognize how much of the African American community's fondness for Bill is manifested as grace toward Hillary. And, as much as Bill Clinton did, most likely with Hillary's help, to increase the number of African American federal judges and to appoint African Americans to his cabinet, I'm still smarting over the Clintons' treatment of Lani Guinier. Remember her? The nominee for head of the Civil Rights Division of the Department of Justice? I hated the way she was made out to be some "quota queen." Trust me, I had to read some of her academic writings in law school, and she wasn't nearly as radical as she was made out to be. What I hated more was that the Clintons didn't defend her and she wasn't allowed to defend herself. But God and Kharma worked it all out -- she made history as the first African American woman tenured professor at Harvard Law School. But it still left an image of the Clintons in my mind as a couple that turns tail on their friends at the whiff of controversy or confrontation.
The other reason I'm not feeling Hillary is that her candidacy reminds me of the same old tired political tactics that the candidates use first to inflict harm on their party brethren and then to inflict harm on the other party's candidate. Her swipes at Barack Obama's inexperience ring hollow for me. First, I love that Obama has grassroots political experience from actually working to organize everyday people to vote. Second, her backhanded remark to the effect that spending part of one's childhood in a foreign country doesn't count as foreign policy experience lends itself to some irony and doesn't exactly ring true. If that is indeed the case, then sleeping with the president doesn't equate to foreign policy experience, either; otherwise, Monica Lewinsky would be more than qualified to be Secretary of State. She did, after all, overhear President Clinton talking to Arafat while she was in flagrante fellatio.
And, as someone who actually did live in a foreign country, albeit for a short time during college, I would beg to differ with her assessment. I studied in Spain as a college student during the Reagan years, when the dollar was at an all time high. I learned first hand the effect of U.S. monetary and foreign policy on other nations. For instance, I never understood why, when I went to the bank to change my dollars into pesetas, that I was treated with disdain. One of my Spanish classmates explained it to me curtly: "Don't you get it? Oil is bought in dollars. It's winter, and the dollar is high compared to the peseta. That means that a lot of poor people in this country won't be able to afford to heat their homes. And you come walking in the bank, exchanging dollars like they're nothing. Of course they hate you."
Talk about foreign/economic policy 101. If Obama gained even a scintilla of an other-worldly perspective on the effects of U.S. foreign and economic policy on other countries, or even an understanding of how non-Americans regard this nation, he will have brought far more of worth into the White House than its current occupant. Plus, if I haven't learned anything else from the likes of Dick Cheney and Donald Rumsfeld, I've learned this: Don't confuse experience with wisdom.
Finally, I've got Obamaudacity because of my experience teaching young people. When I taught law students, the one thing I noticed was that very few of the black law students I met were registered Democrats. Those who were registered to vote at all were primarily Independents. They didn't feel any Roosevelt/Kennedy/Clinton loyalty to the Democratic party. And they were largely apathetic, suffering from "political party fatigue." Yet, it is this very group that has the most to lose if they are not politically energized and engaged. They're Gen X and Gen Y, so that means they're going to get the sloppy seconds of the Baby Boom generation -- sloppy environment, sloppy Social Security, sloppy economy, sloppy deficit, sloppy never-ending war in Iraq, sloppy immigration policy, sloppy everything. Basically, we Baby Boomers are going to leave these young folks to clean up our mess. They might as well get started now and have a say in who is going to help them do it. And if Obama is their choice, then, as someone in the tail end of the Baby Boom generation, I want to honor their choice. To them, I imagine, he represents a clean slate unsullied by past scandals, support for the war in Iraq, and the same recycled political hacks from both parties.
I know Baby Boomers won't let go of Rolling Stones concerts -- hell, some of us would still be following the Grateful Dead if Jerry Garcia were alive -- as well as smoking doobies, endless self-improvement, and flagrant conspicuous consumption. But maybe, just maybe, we need to cede to the choices of the generations behind us. Maybe we need a case of Obamaudacity.
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