On election night, we were in the middle of a two-night stint of Parent Teacher Conferences. Yes, worst scheduling ever. Ever. My emotions on Tuesday and Wednesday of that week were difficult to express because they were so difficult to feel. I think it is safe to say that I've never felt the way I have before in those 48 hours, particularly with the swings in emotion that I experienced.
Additionally, my sweet Plant Boy was out of town. My sister was in the middle of a potential cancer diagnosis (which amounted to almost nothing, by the way) and isn't really connected to politics anyway. My mom had just left on her mission to New Zealand. On the day after the election (Day 1) I've come to call it, I observed many things among students, parents and teachers. My observations helped me to see that our smallish, sometimes struggling school in a little Oregon city was a microcosm for so many larger issues. Immigration. Unemployment. Lack of eduction. Diversity and its challenges. Liberalism and conservatism at loggerheads. Loss of middle class work. Expenses of college. Etc. Etc. During the day I wrote down many thoughts.
When I came home that night I started a blog called DearestMadamPresident. Dear Hillary and Dear Madam President were taken. I just started writing my thoughts down, in letter format, as is Mrs. Clinton was going to be reading them.
I have found it enormously therapeutic and a way to express some of my thoughts of recent weeks. No doubt some of you read this and think, "The election? She's still on about that? That was like, so, last month."
I agree with you. I wish I could think if it terms of being "old news." I'm not there yet. I'm not sure how long it will take me to fully process what is happening in our country. In the meantime, I'm going to write. It seems to help.
Thursday, December 08, 2016
Monday, October 10, 2016
No Longer Silent
I have been asked several times in the past months just exactly what I think of the election or politics. In other cases I have pointedly NOT been asked about it--maybe people have a feeling I will give an earful and so they very carefully AVOID asking me the question. I think after this past weekend, and the latest scandal (what is this like 1,257 for Trump), I just can't keep things to myself any longer. For what it is worth, here are some of my thoughts.
In my yearbook from 9th grade (1990) I was named the person most likely to be the first female president, even though I'd never made office in the many times that I had run. I'm happy to say that Mrs. Clinton will get there first.
I have been a Hilary Clinton fan for a long time. It was hard for me to support Obama in 2008, though ultimately I did, even in the primary, because I had watched his career for a couple of years leading up to the primaries, and found him a new and exciting choice. Still, even as a youngish Democrat, it felt like I was turning my back on the first viable female candidate ever. (I discount Geraldine Ferraro because Mondale was never really in that race.) I was thrilled when I found out she was going to stand by Obama and that party, and mostly by our country, and continue in public service.
But my interest in Clinton goes back even further. I remember in high school, when I still imagined I was a Republican because my parents were, hearing a respected family member bag on Rodham-Clinton. For her hyphenated last name. For her outspoken versus demure support of her husband. For her appointment to look into problems with our nation's health care, rather than just go to libraries and read. For her one child. For her career that was a little bit too much stand-up-to-your-man instead of stand-by-your-man. The rhetoric bothered me. Was such a feeling toward Mrs. Clinton the "right" way to feel? Why was it not okay to feel a little thrill when she boldly declared, "Women's rights are human rights and human rights are women's rights!"?
So even in the mid-nineties, I saw a little bit of Clinton in myself. The girl with the binders who always thought she had the answer. The one who was teased from time-to-time because you were just too smart. The one never quite pretty (funny/friendly/popular) enough to win the election to help plan school activities, even if you knew that if the other kids would just give you a chance you could really shine. The one who eagerly awaited that move to college where you could really be yourself--become a Democrat even when your parents were Republicans, for example.
I'm a pragmatist. I like the establishment. I was with Hilary Clinton before, during and after Bernie Sanders. Her strongest left positions now are those picked up from Sanders to win over his supporters. She has been, from the beginning, the most centrist candidate in the election.
My purpose for clearing the air, here, in my support for Clinton, is twofold. First, to explain that my support for her is unequivocal (yes, I've done my homework, please don't ask) and, secondly, to explain why the Democratic party continues to be my party of choice, despite my roots in conservative religion, and my continued adherence to Mormon doctrine and principles. Earlier in the year I wrote a Facebook post asserting my right to wear all these hats as I saw fit, without input or judgment from others. The post came in the aftermath of a dear friend being told that God wanted her to vote for Trump. I nearly threw up in my mouth a little bit--even before his charming locker-room talk. Around the same time, I created an account through LDS Living's website so that I could comment, in particular in support of the piece Clinton wrote (or had written) for the Deseret News. I was vilified and roasted in the forum. By my brothers and sisters. I felt sick all day.
So here are my reasons, as well as my LDS doctrinal understanding after each point, take what you will from them. But please know, I am working very, very hard this election to allow my friends to wear their many hats too. Not to judge those who disagree with me as stupid, misled, ignorant, or evil; I recognize all too well that many on the "other side" see me with the same four adjectives. And it hurts me, profoundly. Because you know what? Words do matter. What we say about one another, anonymously or otherwise, reflects who we are as individuals. Who we are as a nation.
Reason #1: There are some things the government can just do better. I will elaborate below. Systems do become unwieldy and problematic, agreed. Life grows increasingly complicated, and no doubt anyone who has come face-to-face with the bureaucracy of the federal government will have a lot to say on the subject. But there are some things that are better done collectively, and I believe that besides providing for the common defense our government is well within its rights to tax for the general "welfare" (a word from the constitution) of its people. I interpret this phrasing in the Constitution broadly. I will elaborate on some of these "general welfare" type situations in the reasons below.
LDS thoughts: The church is an institution. If everything could be done just as well privately we wouldn't need a church either. The weight of the church's influence and, yes, money, greatly stretches my reach to do good and influence others. Similarly, as I pay income taxes, I can stretch the reach of my blessings to help defend my country, provide health care for children, maintain public parks, educate children in poverty, help storm-ravaged communities, etc. etc. I think these are all good things. On my own I could not accomplish them, nor am I foolish enough to think that if I was allowed to stop paying all income tax tomorrow that I would have the moral strength to donate to all the places that help is needed. Taxes, like my tithing, help keep me honest about my own sense of worth and entitlement.
Reason #2: I care deeply about public education. To me, public education is at the very core of an informed electorate. I've spoken often in this forum about education and will, no doubt, continue to do so. Even as I understand the reasoning the that motivates school choice, homeschool, charter school, etc. etc., I remain deeply committed to my career choice as an educator in public schools, as well as the decision to send my own children to the same diverse and dynamic school in which I work. In our school we are a microcosm of the larger world; it is a place my children can practice navigating the world they will one day inhabit and help make better. Free and fair public education for all is a cornerstone of progressive thought.
LDS Thoughts: We believe that the only thing we take with us into the next life is our knowledge. Our earliest prophet (Joseph Smith) was unequivocal in his revelations that knowledge was meant to be secular as well as spiritual. Fundamental global inequities stem largely from who we choose to educate and how we choose to educate them. The glory of God is intelligence.
Reason #3: I love science. Deeply and whole-heartedly. There were times in my graduate level evolution course that my heart and my head were in complete and total agreement with what I learned, as they have been in many sciencey-learning moments since. For those LDS readers, this head/heart combination has meaningful implications. I embrace new ideas and advancements as the birthright given to us by Divine Parents. To resist change is to stunt our own growth and evolution--our spiritual evolution. As for the environment, I Ching put it best saying, "What has been destroyed by man's fault can be made good again through his work." I cannot subscribe to any political party that rejects science in order to play politics and promote exploitation of the earth's resources for short term gain over long term sustainability. I really dislike anti-intellectualism and think it is a recipe for disaster if our world is going to continue to advance.
LDS Thoughts: Our scriptures are replete with examples of people destroyed by their pride and arrogance. While some might argue that this is the result of scientific thinking, I would dispute that. Scientific thinking can humble you in what you don't know, give deep and lasting awe for the brilliance of the Creator, and allow us to stop blaming God for everything that we don't like about human nature. Additionally, there is no shortage of revelation concerning the need for us to be wise stewards of the earth that has been given us. To shrug off environmental problems or kick them down the road is to scoff at the remarkable gift of the earth that we have been given.
Reason #4: I hate abortion. Wait, what? I said I was a Democrat. Hear me out here. Abortion is not the root of the problem. Abortion is horrible, horrible symptom of much deeper systemic problems--Lack of education and ambition for young people, ignorance, poverty, desperation, etc. etc. A person who has an abortion has no good choices left. How do we give people more agency? More good choices earlier on? Until we can be begin to work on these fundamental, underlying issues, abortion will never be solved. Shouting about caring for the life of the unborn is pretty poor form from politicians who routinely defund programs aimed at helping women and children and the poor. Additionally, few things have allowed for the advancement of modern society as much as women being able to choose how many children to have and how often to have those children. There is nothing more fundamental to a woman's mental health than this choice about children. To this end, companies that offer health insurance have an obligation to do so in a way that does not put them in a position of deciding for women what is acceptable and unacceptable as far as birth control goes. If control over my childbearing is fundamental to my mental and physical health, then my employer should not get to decide for me what childbearing (or prevention of childbearing) looks like.
LDS Thoughts: We cannot care more about unborn children than we do the ones already taking breath. They need our defense as well--both here and abroad. More pro-life Democrats are needed, just as more pro-social program Republicans are needed if we are to truly live out our doctrine in public life. I've seen people who are suffering deeply because of the poor choices of other people. Agency is fundamental to what we teach--no choices we make here can throw a monkey wrench into God's plan. Isn't it better that a spirit waits for another situation rather than come to one where they aren't wanted?
Reason #5: I think people are fundamentally good, and I think you find what you are looking for. I have worked for 20 years now with children from a huge variety of backgrounds and experiences. I've seen kids do awful things, and I've seen kids do amazing things. Most of my teaching years have involved working very closely with people not of my faith. All these years have taught me a few fundamental things--most people are doing the very best they can in the circumstances they are in. The hardest kids can express unexpected kindness. They can be taught. Everyone wants to feel loved; and when they are, it is easier to reciprocate it. I reject rhetoric that builds on an us vs. them mentality that only seeks to divide and incite fear.
LDS Thoughts: We hear a lot of rhetoric about "how evil the world is getting." You know, I think the reality is that the world has always been evil. It might be true that it is more open now because we have more media, but I don't think human nature has changed all that much in millennia. Again, I think you find what you are looking for. If you look for it, you can help others feel free to express it more often. Even people who totally reject commandments and religion can express deep and lovely goodness and partner with people of faith in building strong communities that are good for families.
These are some of my main reasons for my choice to be in the Democratic party, even as most others in my faith, particularly in the western US, have chosen to be Republicans. I credit Ezra Taft Benson with much of that, but that is a very different story. I have a lot more ideas about how fix things I view as deeply and systemically problematically, but that will have to keep for another day as well.
For now, I just felt that I needed to say that I stand unreservedly with Hilary Clinton. I don't think she is perfect, far from it, but she has devoted her life to public service in a way that I cannot even imagine. She is more qualified than any person EVER to run for president, male or female. Her Senate colleagues praise her ability to work across the aisle--in this era of divisiveness, most of those Republicans that would speak respectfully about her abilities and presence in the Senate have been foolishly ousted by the most extreme elements of their party. Mrs. Clinton is at her best when she strolls into a cafe and asks people to talk to her about their problems. She listens, deeply and carefully, seeking to understand and not offering to fix every problem, but to let us regular gals (and guys) know that she hears their valuable perspective. She was once like me--a girl too smart for her own good in a world dominated by men and an often overbearing father who told her just to tough it out when she got discouraged.
It is time that America took its place in the world with a female head of state. It has taken nearly 100 years of national suffrage for women to make this happen. This is a moment in history that cannot be overlooked. It is utterly ridiculous to say that they choices are "both equally bad." To put this outstanding and complicated woman in the same category as Trump is to miss the point entirely.
In November I will cast a ballot that will make me part of history. One day I will have happy tears in my eyes when I tell my granddaughters of voting for the first female president, that my little voice helped to put her in that awesome position of influence and power. That in my small way I cast a vote for ushering in the new and forward-looking, while rejecting the ugliest things about male power. It is just a vote, and not even in swing state, but it is MY vote. And MY voice. My one little voice will join many . . . not as many as I had hoped, but enough. Nobody said breaking this last glass ceiling would be easy. It's a good thing our candidate is tough as nails.
Go Hilary!!!
In my yearbook from 9th grade (1990) I was named the person most likely to be the first female president, even though I'd never made office in the many times that I had run. I'm happy to say that Mrs. Clinton will get there first.
I have been a Hilary Clinton fan for a long time. It was hard for me to support Obama in 2008, though ultimately I did, even in the primary, because I had watched his career for a couple of years leading up to the primaries, and found him a new and exciting choice. Still, even as a youngish Democrat, it felt like I was turning my back on the first viable female candidate ever. (I discount Geraldine Ferraro because Mondale was never really in that race.) I was thrilled when I found out she was going to stand by Obama and that party, and mostly by our country, and continue in public service.
But my interest in Clinton goes back even further. I remember in high school, when I still imagined I was a Republican because my parents were, hearing a respected family member bag on Rodham-Clinton. For her hyphenated last name. For her outspoken versus demure support of her husband. For her appointment to look into problems with our nation's health care, rather than just go to libraries and read. For her one child. For her career that was a little bit too much stand-up-to-your-man instead of stand-by-your-man. The rhetoric bothered me. Was such a feeling toward Mrs. Clinton the "right" way to feel? Why was it not okay to feel a little thrill when she boldly declared, "Women's rights are human rights and human rights are women's rights!"?
So even in the mid-nineties, I saw a little bit of Clinton in myself. The girl with the binders who always thought she had the answer. The one who was teased from time-to-time because you were just too smart. The one never quite pretty (funny/friendly/popular) enough to win the election to help plan school activities, even if you knew that if the other kids would just give you a chance you could really shine. The one who eagerly awaited that move to college where you could really be yourself--become a Democrat even when your parents were Republicans, for example.
I'm a pragmatist. I like the establishment. I was with Hilary Clinton before, during and after Bernie Sanders. Her strongest left positions now are those picked up from Sanders to win over his supporters. She has been, from the beginning, the most centrist candidate in the election.
My purpose for clearing the air, here, in my support for Clinton, is twofold. First, to explain that my support for her is unequivocal (yes, I've done my homework, please don't ask) and, secondly, to explain why the Democratic party continues to be my party of choice, despite my roots in conservative religion, and my continued adherence to Mormon doctrine and principles. Earlier in the year I wrote a Facebook post asserting my right to wear all these hats as I saw fit, without input or judgment from others. The post came in the aftermath of a dear friend being told that God wanted her to vote for Trump. I nearly threw up in my mouth a little bit--even before his charming locker-room talk. Around the same time, I created an account through LDS Living's website so that I could comment, in particular in support of the piece Clinton wrote (or had written) for the Deseret News. I was vilified and roasted in the forum. By my brothers and sisters. I felt sick all day.
So here are my reasons, as well as my LDS doctrinal understanding after each point, take what you will from them. But please know, I am working very, very hard this election to allow my friends to wear their many hats too. Not to judge those who disagree with me as stupid, misled, ignorant, or evil; I recognize all too well that many on the "other side" see me with the same four adjectives. And it hurts me, profoundly. Because you know what? Words do matter. What we say about one another, anonymously or otherwise, reflects who we are as individuals. Who we are as a nation.
Reason #1: There are some things the government can just do better. I will elaborate below. Systems do become unwieldy and problematic, agreed. Life grows increasingly complicated, and no doubt anyone who has come face-to-face with the bureaucracy of the federal government will have a lot to say on the subject. But there are some things that are better done collectively, and I believe that besides providing for the common defense our government is well within its rights to tax for the general "welfare" (a word from the constitution) of its people. I interpret this phrasing in the Constitution broadly. I will elaborate on some of these "general welfare" type situations in the reasons below.
LDS thoughts: The church is an institution. If everything could be done just as well privately we wouldn't need a church either. The weight of the church's influence and, yes, money, greatly stretches my reach to do good and influence others. Similarly, as I pay income taxes, I can stretch the reach of my blessings to help defend my country, provide health care for children, maintain public parks, educate children in poverty, help storm-ravaged communities, etc. etc. I think these are all good things. On my own I could not accomplish them, nor am I foolish enough to think that if I was allowed to stop paying all income tax tomorrow that I would have the moral strength to donate to all the places that help is needed. Taxes, like my tithing, help keep me honest about my own sense of worth and entitlement.
Reason #2: I care deeply about public education. To me, public education is at the very core of an informed electorate. I've spoken often in this forum about education and will, no doubt, continue to do so. Even as I understand the reasoning the that motivates school choice, homeschool, charter school, etc. etc., I remain deeply committed to my career choice as an educator in public schools, as well as the decision to send my own children to the same diverse and dynamic school in which I work. In our school we are a microcosm of the larger world; it is a place my children can practice navigating the world they will one day inhabit and help make better. Free and fair public education for all is a cornerstone of progressive thought.
LDS Thoughts: We believe that the only thing we take with us into the next life is our knowledge. Our earliest prophet (Joseph Smith) was unequivocal in his revelations that knowledge was meant to be secular as well as spiritual. Fundamental global inequities stem largely from who we choose to educate and how we choose to educate them. The glory of God is intelligence.
Reason #3: I love science. Deeply and whole-heartedly. There were times in my graduate level evolution course that my heart and my head were in complete and total agreement with what I learned, as they have been in many sciencey-learning moments since. For those LDS readers, this head/heart combination has meaningful implications. I embrace new ideas and advancements as the birthright given to us by Divine Parents. To resist change is to stunt our own growth and evolution--our spiritual evolution. As for the environment, I Ching put it best saying, "What has been destroyed by man's fault can be made good again through his work." I cannot subscribe to any political party that rejects science in order to play politics and promote exploitation of the earth's resources for short term gain over long term sustainability. I really dislike anti-intellectualism and think it is a recipe for disaster if our world is going to continue to advance.
LDS Thoughts: Our scriptures are replete with examples of people destroyed by their pride and arrogance. While some might argue that this is the result of scientific thinking, I would dispute that. Scientific thinking can humble you in what you don't know, give deep and lasting awe for the brilliance of the Creator, and allow us to stop blaming God for everything that we don't like about human nature. Additionally, there is no shortage of revelation concerning the need for us to be wise stewards of the earth that has been given us. To shrug off environmental problems or kick them down the road is to scoff at the remarkable gift of the earth that we have been given.
Reason #4: I hate abortion. Wait, what? I said I was a Democrat. Hear me out here. Abortion is not the root of the problem. Abortion is horrible, horrible symptom of much deeper systemic problems--Lack of education and ambition for young people, ignorance, poverty, desperation, etc. etc. A person who has an abortion has no good choices left. How do we give people more agency? More good choices earlier on? Until we can be begin to work on these fundamental, underlying issues, abortion will never be solved. Shouting about caring for the life of the unborn is pretty poor form from politicians who routinely defund programs aimed at helping women and children and the poor. Additionally, few things have allowed for the advancement of modern society as much as women being able to choose how many children to have and how often to have those children. There is nothing more fundamental to a woman's mental health than this choice about children. To this end, companies that offer health insurance have an obligation to do so in a way that does not put them in a position of deciding for women what is acceptable and unacceptable as far as birth control goes. If control over my childbearing is fundamental to my mental and physical health, then my employer should not get to decide for me what childbearing (or prevention of childbearing) looks like.
LDS Thoughts: We cannot care more about unborn children than we do the ones already taking breath. They need our defense as well--both here and abroad. More pro-life Democrats are needed, just as more pro-social program Republicans are needed if we are to truly live out our doctrine in public life. I've seen people who are suffering deeply because of the poor choices of other people. Agency is fundamental to what we teach--no choices we make here can throw a monkey wrench into God's plan. Isn't it better that a spirit waits for another situation rather than come to one where they aren't wanted?
Reason #5: I think people are fundamentally good, and I think you find what you are looking for. I have worked for 20 years now with children from a huge variety of backgrounds and experiences. I've seen kids do awful things, and I've seen kids do amazing things. Most of my teaching years have involved working very closely with people not of my faith. All these years have taught me a few fundamental things--most people are doing the very best they can in the circumstances they are in. The hardest kids can express unexpected kindness. They can be taught. Everyone wants to feel loved; and when they are, it is easier to reciprocate it. I reject rhetoric that builds on an us vs. them mentality that only seeks to divide and incite fear.
LDS Thoughts: We hear a lot of rhetoric about "how evil the world is getting." You know, I think the reality is that the world has always been evil. It might be true that it is more open now because we have more media, but I don't think human nature has changed all that much in millennia. Again, I think you find what you are looking for. If you look for it, you can help others feel free to express it more often. Even people who totally reject commandments and religion can express deep and lovely goodness and partner with people of faith in building strong communities that are good for families.
These are some of my main reasons for my choice to be in the Democratic party, even as most others in my faith, particularly in the western US, have chosen to be Republicans. I credit Ezra Taft Benson with much of that, but that is a very different story. I have a lot more ideas about how fix things I view as deeply and systemically problematically, but that will have to keep for another day as well.
For now, I just felt that I needed to say that I stand unreservedly with Hilary Clinton. I don't think she is perfect, far from it, but she has devoted her life to public service in a way that I cannot even imagine. She is more qualified than any person EVER to run for president, male or female. Her Senate colleagues praise her ability to work across the aisle--in this era of divisiveness, most of those Republicans that would speak respectfully about her abilities and presence in the Senate have been foolishly ousted by the most extreme elements of their party. Mrs. Clinton is at her best when she strolls into a cafe and asks people to talk to her about their problems. She listens, deeply and carefully, seeking to understand and not offering to fix every problem, but to let us regular gals (and guys) know that she hears their valuable perspective. She was once like me--a girl too smart for her own good in a world dominated by men and an often overbearing father who told her just to tough it out when she got discouraged.
It is time that America took its place in the world with a female head of state. It has taken nearly 100 years of national suffrage for women to make this happen. This is a moment in history that cannot be overlooked. It is utterly ridiculous to say that they choices are "both equally bad." To put this outstanding and complicated woman in the same category as Trump is to miss the point entirely.
In November I will cast a ballot that will make me part of history. One day I will have happy tears in my eyes when I tell my granddaughters of voting for the first female president, that my little voice helped to put her in that awesome position of influence and power. That in my small way I cast a vote for ushering in the new and forward-looking, while rejecting the ugliest things about male power. It is just a vote, and not even in swing state, but it is MY vote. And MY voice. My one little voice will join many . . . not as many as I had hoped, but enough. Nobody said breaking this last glass ceiling would be easy. It's a good thing our candidate is tough as nails.
Go Hilary!!!
Wednesday, August 10, 2016
Girls' Camp Round Two
Before I talk about Girls' Camp this year, I would like to point out that the new Bourne movie had the same affect on me as other movies mentioned in my last post. I have thoroughly enjoyed this series (even the Jeremy Renner installment) and felt like the original three Damon movies were a very apt, and complete, trilogy. The Jeremy Renner movie is a great stand-alone. Enter this movie. Bourne is without purpose, fighting as a mercenary for money. He is torn between being a true patriot and being a man without a country. He has no closure and is still filled with horrific nightmares. Two blood-soaked hours later (the fighting is just brutal), he is still in exactly the same place. That being said . . . it is Matt Damon. He is that rare actor who has the ability to make something of nothing--like a really good-looking Tom Hanks.
But enough about that. Two weeks ago I finished my second week-long stint at Girls' Camp. Part of my thoughts here come from a mini-talk I gave the Sunday after.
My scripture study for the week had me in the book of Mosiah. I have been reading the Book of Mormon very slowly this year because I have a newish set of scriptures and lots of lovely white pages and blank margins for new thoughts. I think Mosiah, and the first half of Alma, are my favorite parts of the Book of Mormon. There is much to be gleaned about society, personal conversion, service, community and trials in this portion. Every chapter seems to offer deep and applicable truths. Anyway, I was reading about the people of Zeniff and their troubles stemming from an extremely tyrannical leader (Noah) and the fall out for years after his death.
In this section, there are two different groups of people that come under hardship because of oppression from a government that, in the beginning, they had willingly pledged themselves to live under. But because they are outsiders--different culturally and religiously--they become extremely persecuted. Additionally, one of the groups has false charges laid to them of serious wrongdoing. The upshot is, that largely through no fault of their own, the people are living under a lot of stress. They pray for deliverance that is not forthcoming.
However, in both instances, it causes the people to have great humility before God as they pray for their enemies' hearts to be softened. Additionally, the scriptures tell us that God didn't deliver them right away, but instead made their backs strong so they could bear their burdens.
I think it is easy to discount teenage girls' problems as "drama." And while, yes, teenage girls do create plenty of drama, my experience at camp this time around was that many of them experience trials that are deadly serious, for which there is no immediate or easy resolution. This time at girls' camp, I really tried to hear their stories.
I met a girl who anxiously awaits her father's release from prison next year--her family has tenaciously stood by him and attested to his innocence in his white-collar crime from the beginning. It was an LDS prosecutor who relentlessly assassinated his character during the trial and is responsible for putting him in prison.
I met a girl who is one of five siblings (some half/some full) who were adopted by members of her family when her mother was in danger of losing all of them to foster care. Her parents are also her aunt and uncle. One girl, who is more like a cousin, is biologically her sister and legally her aunt.
I met a young woman who has spent most of her childhood homeless and was shown by our camp nurse how to use the shower and wash her hair. One girl in her unit was complaining relentlessly about how much she disliked camp; this sweet girl replied, "I like it here." It may be the first week in her life when she got to act like a kid . . . and know where her three meals a day were coming from.
I met a girl whose mom suffers from depression--which suffering really translates to this girl trying to act as mom to the boys in her family.
I met a girl whose mom just got a clean cancer diagnosis after months of being told that she only had weeks to live.
I met a girl whose life was deeply changed by a stillborn brother, and whose mom is pregnant with a due date very near the due date of the previous baby.
I met lots of girls seeking for testimony they aren't sure they have.
It occurred to me that Girls' Camp is a fun place for these sweet (and sometimes bitter/salty/sour) young women to put all those burdens on hold for a few days. And while camp cannot take their burdens, it is a place for them to strengthen their backs. Our mortal experience is what it is. We are each a unique combination of biology, culture, personality and opportunity. Some of this is given by God, some of it is given to us by circumstance, some of it we choose. But I am coming to see that God will always strengthen us if we ask. He may not change our circumstances, but he teaches us to change the way we view them.
But enough about that. Two weeks ago I finished my second week-long stint at Girls' Camp. Part of my thoughts here come from a mini-talk I gave the Sunday after.
My scripture study for the week had me in the book of Mosiah. I have been reading the Book of Mormon very slowly this year because I have a newish set of scriptures and lots of lovely white pages and blank margins for new thoughts. I think Mosiah, and the first half of Alma, are my favorite parts of the Book of Mormon. There is much to be gleaned about society, personal conversion, service, community and trials in this portion. Every chapter seems to offer deep and applicable truths. Anyway, I was reading about the people of Zeniff and their troubles stemming from an extremely tyrannical leader (Noah) and the fall out for years after his death.
In this section, there are two different groups of people that come under hardship because of oppression from a government that, in the beginning, they had willingly pledged themselves to live under. But because they are outsiders--different culturally and religiously--they become extremely persecuted. Additionally, one of the groups has false charges laid to them of serious wrongdoing. The upshot is, that largely through no fault of their own, the people are living under a lot of stress. They pray for deliverance that is not forthcoming.
However, in both instances, it causes the people to have great humility before God as they pray for their enemies' hearts to be softened. Additionally, the scriptures tell us that God didn't deliver them right away, but instead made their backs strong so they could bear their burdens.
I think it is easy to discount teenage girls' problems as "drama." And while, yes, teenage girls do create plenty of drama, my experience at camp this time around was that many of them experience trials that are deadly serious, for which there is no immediate or easy resolution. This time at girls' camp, I really tried to hear their stories.
I met a girl who anxiously awaits her father's release from prison next year--her family has tenaciously stood by him and attested to his innocence in his white-collar crime from the beginning. It was an LDS prosecutor who relentlessly assassinated his character during the trial and is responsible for putting him in prison.
I met a girl who is one of five siblings (some half/some full) who were adopted by members of her family when her mother was in danger of losing all of them to foster care. Her parents are also her aunt and uncle. One girl, who is more like a cousin, is biologically her sister and legally her aunt.
I met a young woman who has spent most of her childhood homeless and was shown by our camp nurse how to use the shower and wash her hair. One girl in her unit was complaining relentlessly about how much she disliked camp; this sweet girl replied, "I like it here." It may be the first week in her life when she got to act like a kid . . . and know where her three meals a day were coming from.
I met a girl whose mom suffers from depression--which suffering really translates to this girl trying to act as mom to the boys in her family.
I met a girl whose mom just got a clean cancer diagnosis after months of being told that she only had weeks to live.
I met a girl whose life was deeply changed by a stillborn brother, and whose mom is pregnant with a due date very near the due date of the previous baby.
I met lots of girls seeking for testimony they aren't sure they have.
It occurred to me that Girls' Camp is a fun place for these sweet (and sometimes bitter/salty/sour) young women to put all those burdens on hold for a few days. And while camp cannot take their burdens, it is a place for them to strengthen their backs. Our mortal experience is what it is. We are each a unique combination of biology, culture, personality and opportunity. Some of this is given by God, some of it is given to us by circumstance, some of it we choose. But I am coming to see that God will always strengthen us if we ask. He may not change our circumstances, but he teaches us to change the way we view them.
Wednesday, July 20, 2016
Once Upon a Time Without a Happily Ever After: How the Eternal Sequel has Ruined Artful Storytelling
I mentioned in my last post about starting to binge-watch Once Upon a Time. It took me until two days ago to catch up to Netflix and will now wait until sometime in August or September for the next season to load. It isn't particularly great, and good performances are spotty. The premise is clever, however, and might have been quite good as a single season's effort. There is enough time to tell the story (stories) of Snow White that you have a lot of empathy for each character. In fact, by the end of Season Five or whatever it is on now, I find myself wishing that Snow White would just go away and we could focus more on the Evil Queen.
That being said, I have had some thoughts in the past few months about the never-ending sequel. This has hit me quite powerfully in two franchise-movie blockbusters as well as the aforementioned television show. How do characters ever reach resolution and closure if they must be placed in mortal peril every week? And if stories help us escape reality, does this new model effectively do that, or only mirror our own chaotic and roller coaster lives?
Star Wars: The Force Awakens. Disclaimer first. I am a huge geek. I loved this movie. I have probably seen it three or four times, and fully expect it to become a fantastic addition to the Star Wars Universe created initially by Lucas. Episodes I, II and III are already fading to unpleasant memories.
Having said as much, however, even as I sat in the movie I had several unhappy thoughts. "What??? Han and Leia did not stay together???" "What??? After the whole return-of-the-Jedi-thing they didn't really return after all???" "Are you kidding me??? After all the efforts of the Rebellion they succeeded in accomplishing exactly nothing???"
I remember going to see Return of the Jedi, after growing up for years on those films, and crying my eyes out through the ending (it happens nearly every time I watch it, honestly). Leia and Han were going to live happily ever after. Peace would now reign in the galaxy. Jedi would begin to grow up and train again. This was the happy fan-fiction I lived with in my brain for 30 years.
From a characterization standpoint, many of the choices made in the new film make perfect sense. There is a great line about how Leia and Han just went back to what they did best after their lives fell apart. But splitting up--divorce, troubled children and irreconcilable differences are so . . . well . . . NORMAL. So real-world. I wanted more for these characters I had invested so many hours in. I want to believe in happily ever after.
Captain America: Civil War. Hey, I already gave the geek disclaimer above. Go with it. I'm a big fan of the Avengers franchise. I've seen all of the films--usually when they come out in theater--and I'm happy to talk about them to anyone who won't look at me like I'm a little bit off. But when you choose to do a dozen films about the same collective of people, stuff is going to happen that isn't always pretty. Civil War severs loyalties and raises deep, philosophical questions about the nature of war, government and security that is deeply unsettling. It also erases so much of the fun of earlier movies when questions about the destruction wreaked by the Avengers as they "save" the planet; with the argument that their very presence creates the threat to begin with.
Congressional oversight of the Avengers??? It is like the first few minutes of Disney's The Incredibles when Mr. Incredible is subject to a lawsuit after causing horrific property damage to a train he was supposed to be "saving," among other things.
I already spoke above about Once Upon a Time. This isn't a phenomenon limited to television and movies, nor is it a recent problem. (Watch any procedural drama from any era and you'll wonder how the cops/detectives/analysts/doctors don't have PTSD for all the terrible things that happen to them.) It is much easier to publish a second novel than a first, and if a first novel has any degree of success, there is much clamor to find out what happens to those characters. Stories don't really end anymore, and, like a drug, the situations in which characters are placed must continue to escalate to continue to give the reader the same "high" they got the first time their favorite characters were put into mortal peril.
Some series get it right. Hunger Games, at three books, is very nearly perfect (though the first installment is a brilliant stand-alone). Seven Harry Potter books, particularly knowing from the beginning there would be one for each year, was likewise wonderful, with Rowling cognizant of the effects of Harry's experiences on his psyche and personality and writing it as such. And while, yes, I will read the sequel/screenplay, I cannot help but think. Really? After all he did, doesn't Harry just get a break with some well-deserved happiness??
I just fear that really great storytelling has been reduced to whatever pays the bills.
That being said, I have had some thoughts in the past few months about the never-ending sequel. This has hit me quite powerfully in two franchise-movie blockbusters as well as the aforementioned television show. How do characters ever reach resolution and closure if they must be placed in mortal peril every week? And if stories help us escape reality, does this new model effectively do that, or only mirror our own chaotic and roller coaster lives?
Star Wars: The Force Awakens. Disclaimer first. I am a huge geek. I loved this movie. I have probably seen it three or four times, and fully expect it to become a fantastic addition to the Star Wars Universe created initially by Lucas. Episodes I, II and III are already fading to unpleasant memories.
Having said as much, however, even as I sat in the movie I had several unhappy thoughts. "What??? Han and Leia did not stay together???" "What??? After the whole return-of-the-Jedi-thing they didn't really return after all???" "Are you kidding me??? After all the efforts of the Rebellion they succeeded in accomplishing exactly nothing???"
I remember going to see Return of the Jedi, after growing up for years on those films, and crying my eyes out through the ending (it happens nearly every time I watch it, honestly). Leia and Han were going to live happily ever after. Peace would now reign in the galaxy. Jedi would begin to grow up and train again. This was the happy fan-fiction I lived with in my brain for 30 years.
From a characterization standpoint, many of the choices made in the new film make perfect sense. There is a great line about how Leia and Han just went back to what they did best after their lives fell apart. But splitting up--divorce, troubled children and irreconcilable differences are so . . . well . . . NORMAL. So real-world. I wanted more for these characters I had invested so many hours in. I want to believe in happily ever after.
Captain America: Civil War. Hey, I already gave the geek disclaimer above. Go with it. I'm a big fan of the Avengers franchise. I've seen all of the films--usually when they come out in theater--and I'm happy to talk about them to anyone who won't look at me like I'm a little bit off. But when you choose to do a dozen films about the same collective of people, stuff is going to happen that isn't always pretty. Civil War severs loyalties and raises deep, philosophical questions about the nature of war, government and security that is deeply unsettling. It also erases so much of the fun of earlier movies when questions about the destruction wreaked by the Avengers as they "save" the planet; with the argument that their very presence creates the threat to begin with.
Congressional oversight of the Avengers??? It is like the first few minutes of Disney's The Incredibles when Mr. Incredible is subject to a lawsuit after causing horrific property damage to a train he was supposed to be "saving," among other things.
I already spoke above about Once Upon a Time. This isn't a phenomenon limited to television and movies, nor is it a recent problem. (Watch any procedural drama from any era and you'll wonder how the cops/detectives/analysts/doctors don't have PTSD for all the terrible things that happen to them.) It is much easier to publish a second novel than a first, and if a first novel has any degree of success, there is much clamor to find out what happens to those characters. Stories don't really end anymore, and, like a drug, the situations in which characters are placed must continue to escalate to continue to give the reader the same "high" they got the first time their favorite characters were put into mortal peril.
Some series get it right. Hunger Games, at three books, is very nearly perfect (though the first installment is a brilliant stand-alone). Seven Harry Potter books, particularly knowing from the beginning there would be one for each year, was likewise wonderful, with Rowling cognizant of the effects of Harry's experiences on his psyche and personality and writing it as such. And while, yes, I will read the sequel/screenplay, I cannot help but think. Really? After all he did, doesn't Harry just get a break with some well-deserved happiness??
I just fear that really great storytelling has been reduced to whatever pays the bills.
Wednesday, May 11, 2016
In Which I Get a Hug From God
Two weeks ago, my husband and boys went on the annual Fathers' and Sons' campout. It may potentially be my favorite weekend of the year to only have boys. Not really, but, admittedly, by-myself time is sort of awesome. I put a lot of things on the to-do list, including a temple trip for the Saturday.
I waved the boys goodbye on Friday night and the started in on my list. It included some working. Stupid on my night to myself, yes, but I love working when I can just get EVERYthing done without having to keep somebody else's agenda. Then there was a trip to the mall where I bought shoes and sat in the food court and read cheesy chick lit and ate fries. I cleaned the house and started in on my girlie movie WAY too late. After the girlie movie, the first season of Once Upon a Time beckoned to me from my library DVD rentals.
It was one o'clock in the morning, but what is the harm in just ONE episode, right? Wrong! Three episodes . . . or was it four? later it was nearing 3:30 in the morning. The temple wasn't looking so good (nor was the series, by the way, but I'm pretty much completely hooked on it now), and I fell asleep on the couch, disliking myself. For the late night and the fact that popcorn after fries might be too much.
Alarm goes off. I can't sleep anyway because I'm too warm and uncomfortable, so I lay there a long time debating whether or not I was even safe to take the three hour plus round trip in the car to get there and back. Duty won out and I hit the road about two hours later than my original intention.
On the way I decided that initiatories would need to be the order of the day, as there was no possible way I could stay awake in a session. As I pulled into the last parking lot available in the entire lot of the Portland temple, I noted that I was right next to our visitor center. It is pretty small potatoes, but still lovely, and manned (womaned?) by the sister missionaries in the Portland mission. My lovely friend from Texas, SarahB, who was present for the birth of Padawan, has a daughter that was called to the Portland mission a year or so ago. I have inquired after her a few times in the visitor's center but haven't had any luck. I considered stopping that day, but decided not to as I was already running so far behind.
And then, it happened, on my way up the stairs, I saw SisterB, whom I've only seen in photos for eleven years. She is lovely and grown up, and so like her mother that I nearly cried. I introduced myself and she had a vague recollection of our living down there. I gushed a bit about how much I love her mom and what it meant for me to have SarahB there when Padawan was born. Bless her sister missionary heart, she took the crazy lady in stride, and I walked into the temple feeling unexpectedly overcome by emotion.
The feeling persisted, niggling in around the edges, when I saw one of the sisters I served my mission with. This was not a huge coincidence, incidentally. SistaT works in our temple on Saturdays and I often see her there--what is crazy, however, is that she is actually from Tonga and moved to this area years after our mission service. She is the only one from my mission days that I see regularly, oddly enough. And yet, despite seeing this lovely, huggable sister regularly, there was something more meaningful about it that day.
The initiatory room was a little backed up, so I sat and waiting. As I waited and listened to the soft murmuring of priesthood blessings given in women's voices, that feeling around the edges just crept into my heart and the tears started pouring. I thought of SarahB's strong voice and hands the night of Padawan's birth. I thought of those lovely sisters from my mission from whom I learned so much about heartache and trial and lasting joy. I let the murmured blessings of the priesthood pour over me--and I felt myself to be an integral part of them. Birth as sacrament. Mission as consecration. Priesthood as the shared gift to men and women. Power. Glory. Dominion without end.
At that moment, my former relief society president walked into the room and did a double take as she saw me crying. No doubt she felt compelled to comfort but was unsure if I wanted to be left in peace. It was really a lot of crying. But crying for such happiness that I couldn't contain it. When I saw Sister RS my mind turned to all those powerful women in my life who have blessed me--if not with their hands directly, then with their sincere service, abiding love and powerful examples.
I felt the love of my Father, and, dare I say it? My Mother. It was a feeling profound and deep and special. It was not an entirely unfamiliar feeling, but it has been a long time since the Spirit has overcome me so. In that sacred place of women, I felt an enveloping love of feminine divine--my own, and Something so much larger than myself that I wept for trying to hold it. In the hour afterward I tried to write about it and couldn't express what I wanted to say; the following Sunday I bore testimony, and powerfully, but still missed the heart of what I was trying to get at. Even now, I find myself clumsy and awkward and without adequate words for describing what it was that I knew down into my very cells in that moment. She is real. We are Her daughters. We will see Her lovely face one day.
The love of thousands of generations of women was held in my heart for a brief time--and it was such a awesome blend of gratitude and humility and power that I went forward changed. The experience has lingered in my mind and heart for these many days, and it has compelled me to say thank you. To any woman reading here. Thank you. In both small and large ways you have touched and changed me. The love that women have is powerful, profound, priestly. It sanctifies and blesses all that we touch. It makes us like Her. And oh, how I want to be.
I waved the boys goodbye on Friday night and the started in on my list. It included some working. Stupid on my night to myself, yes, but I love working when I can just get EVERYthing done without having to keep somebody else's agenda. Then there was a trip to the mall where I bought shoes and sat in the food court and read cheesy chick lit and ate fries. I cleaned the house and started in on my girlie movie WAY too late. After the girlie movie, the first season of Once Upon a Time beckoned to me from my library DVD rentals.
It was one o'clock in the morning, but what is the harm in just ONE episode, right? Wrong! Three episodes . . . or was it four? later it was nearing 3:30 in the morning. The temple wasn't looking so good (nor was the series, by the way, but I'm pretty much completely hooked on it now), and I fell asleep on the couch, disliking myself. For the late night and the fact that popcorn after fries might be too much.
Alarm goes off. I can't sleep anyway because I'm too warm and uncomfortable, so I lay there a long time debating whether or not I was even safe to take the three hour plus round trip in the car to get there and back. Duty won out and I hit the road about two hours later than my original intention.
On the way I decided that initiatories would need to be the order of the day, as there was no possible way I could stay awake in a session. As I pulled into the last parking lot available in the entire lot of the Portland temple, I noted that I was right next to our visitor center. It is pretty small potatoes, but still lovely, and manned (womaned?) by the sister missionaries in the Portland mission. My lovely friend from Texas, SarahB, who was present for the birth of Padawan, has a daughter that was called to the Portland mission a year or so ago. I have inquired after her a few times in the visitor's center but haven't had any luck. I considered stopping that day, but decided not to as I was already running so far behind.
And then, it happened, on my way up the stairs, I saw SisterB, whom I've only seen in photos for eleven years. She is lovely and grown up, and so like her mother that I nearly cried. I introduced myself and she had a vague recollection of our living down there. I gushed a bit about how much I love her mom and what it meant for me to have SarahB there when Padawan was born. Bless her sister missionary heart, she took the crazy lady in stride, and I walked into the temple feeling unexpectedly overcome by emotion.
The feeling persisted, niggling in around the edges, when I saw one of the sisters I served my mission with. This was not a huge coincidence, incidentally. SistaT works in our temple on Saturdays and I often see her there--what is crazy, however, is that she is actually from Tonga and moved to this area years after our mission service. She is the only one from my mission days that I see regularly, oddly enough. And yet, despite seeing this lovely, huggable sister regularly, there was something more meaningful about it that day.
The initiatory room was a little backed up, so I sat and waiting. As I waited and listened to the soft murmuring of priesthood blessings given in women's voices, that feeling around the edges just crept into my heart and the tears started pouring. I thought of SarahB's strong voice and hands the night of Padawan's birth. I thought of those lovely sisters from my mission from whom I learned so much about heartache and trial and lasting joy. I let the murmured blessings of the priesthood pour over me--and I felt myself to be an integral part of them. Birth as sacrament. Mission as consecration. Priesthood as the shared gift to men and women. Power. Glory. Dominion without end.
At that moment, my former relief society president walked into the room and did a double take as she saw me crying. No doubt she felt compelled to comfort but was unsure if I wanted to be left in peace. It was really a lot of crying. But crying for such happiness that I couldn't contain it. When I saw Sister RS my mind turned to all those powerful women in my life who have blessed me--if not with their hands directly, then with their sincere service, abiding love and powerful examples.
I felt the love of my Father, and, dare I say it? My Mother. It was a feeling profound and deep and special. It was not an entirely unfamiliar feeling, but it has been a long time since the Spirit has overcome me so. In that sacred place of women, I felt an enveloping love of feminine divine--my own, and Something so much larger than myself that I wept for trying to hold it. In the hour afterward I tried to write about it and couldn't express what I wanted to say; the following Sunday I bore testimony, and powerfully, but still missed the heart of what I was trying to get at. Even now, I find myself clumsy and awkward and without adequate words for describing what it was that I knew down into my very cells in that moment. She is real. We are Her daughters. We will see Her lovely face one day.
The love of thousands of generations of women was held in my heart for a brief time--and it was such a awesome blend of gratitude and humility and power that I went forward changed. The experience has lingered in my mind and heart for these many days, and it has compelled me to say thank you. To any woman reading here. Thank you. In both small and large ways you have touched and changed me. The love that women have is powerful, profound, priestly. It sanctifies and blesses all that we touch. It makes us like Her. And oh, how I want to be.
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