Darby Girl's Perspective

I wrote this back in September on another blog. I am adding it here because I believe it is worth considering now that the President has slashed funds from the CDC just as H5N1 simmers around the world. Resources are being squandered by this administration which has led to an inability to respond to the real threats to US citizens. Sep. 11th, 2005 11:30 pm Four years ago the United States of America was shocked by the terrorist attack on the World Trade Center. In retrospect, had the towers not fallen, but merely burned on the upper floors, we'd probably have returned to business as usual without having created a Department of Homeland Security, Terror Alerts and the subsequent erosion of some basic constitutional rights. Perhaps even, we would not have been so aggressive in our quest to neutralize Saddam Hussein and may even have avoided the war in Iraq. The towers did fall and well, the rest of the story is history. Holding our collective breathe and waiting for the next attack ...

I promised to keep this blog up to date but am completely uninspired as well as extremely busy. I have chewed my nails off and am contemplating going to the nail place (salon, but it doesn't look like one) and get a fake set of nails. I will chew them as well, but not right away. It takes an hour and one-half to get a full set of fake nails with polish. That seems like forever and I get restless and anxious. It is not relaxing and it smells and I chew them off. But not right away. Not until I have pranced around waving my long, lovely fauxs at various cashiers and tapping them impatiently at key business meetings. I feel very feminine for about three days until I notice a little space where they have begun to grow out and then the chewing begins in earnest. I have no idea why I bite my nails. They really look ugly and sometimes (as any fellow biter will attest) they really are painful. I bite between typing words, while driving and especially when I read. I bite when I'm anxiou...

In a post early yesterday, I described my teenage kids amusement at my bird flu preparations and my secret research and stockpiling. Last night after I found the third half eaten, open jar of peanut butter, I figured I should remove my stockpile to a place far from the hungry eyes of my fifteen year old, two hundred pound son. My eighty-five year old dad lives in an apartment below our main house. He has a large storage area and an empty cabinet that I consider for seizure. Unfortunately, this would mean that I would have to divulge my plans to him. I eventually decide that I am willing to risk the ridicule for the benefit of the greater good. I enter his place with two overflowing bags of groceries and try to quickly explain that I need to store a few extra groceries in his store room (I end up making five trips to move all of the food). Normally, it takes three attempts to communicate anything to my father. It isn't that he is confused, he actually is quite sharp and physically f...

Lovely, old woman-Castelbasso, Abruzzo, Italy 

This was originally posted as a comment to The War at Home but I felt it deserved it's own post. I was referring to GW, not you, when I said "religious". Who wrote the Bible is a good question and one that I will tackle as best I can. I assume that we are speaking of both The Old and New Testaments. The Old Testament consists of the histories, prophesies and wisdom literature. There has never been any agreement from either historians or theologians about who actually wrote them and exactly when they were written. The New Testaments are attributed to Jesus' followers, the Apostles. I do believe that the Bible is a book written by men and I also believe that humans are divine. Is it the word of God or of man? To me it does not matter, because either way it is divine. As far as strangers guessing whether or not I was Christian-again who knows. I am not a perfect human being but I am a kind imperfection and I seek justice for all people, as much as possible in an imperfec...

My teenage kids have been socking away their milk money because of bird flu . Not, as one might think, to stock up on "tuna and powdered milk", which they wouldn't consider consuming, but for their dear mother's (that would be me) psychological evaluation. Two months ago when I began stockpiling food and supplies and placed mandatory handwashing in effect and increased my already diligent use of bleach on kitchen surfaces, they came to the consensus that I had finally gone the way of Howard Hughes. I became a household joke in my own household. I had to hide my rubber gloves so they wouldn't see me use them when I cleaned up the dead bird that one of our cats brought to me on a cold, January morning. I erased my tracks on the toolbar so they wouldn't know about my late night searches for "H5n1, unusual bird deaths, 1918 flu". So, this week when the major TV news outlets gave wide coverage to the possible (I am a realist, it may not happen) flu pandem...

"Only a person of deep faith can afford the luxury of skepticism" Friedrich Nietzche

To DD after scolding me for comparing George to Adolf: Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, of course, however, I do feel as though the present administration, from the president on down has exceeded their rights under the US Constitution. I accept that there are those people who do not feel threatened by this and feel that this is the sort of country that they WANT to live in. So be it. If you feel safer and more secure and if you believe that the poor and underserved are better off today than in the past, then you have every reason to be supportive of President Bush. I guess it all depends on your perspective. Just remember that those people who proclaim to be "religious" oftentimes do things in God's name that would be unacceptable in any other context. George Bush is a Christian but just calling oneself such does not make it so. Has he demonstrated Christ in his actions? If so, please point out these examples as I would not want to criticize anyone's good w...

July Morning in Castelbasso 

Monday's are not inspiring but I received sad news about a friend's son and am forced to contemplate, once again, the meaning of my (our) existence. I feel an intense envy at those whose work allows them to change the world in a profound way. It also seems unjust that many of those people are not particularly admirable-politicians come to mind. Our wonderful elected officials, many whose integrity is questionable, have the power to improve the lives of people all over the world. Or not. Much of what is accomplished in politics is self-serving and partisan without any regard to the greater good. Voters, like myself, are often making choices that are described as "the lesser of two evils". How can we allow this and why do we settle for leaders whose personal agendas don't match those of the general populace? Is it our two party system that gives us candidates that are big on financial resources but low on candor? Candidates that are politically connected but distanc...

It has been four days since I decided, or found out, that I shouldn't be talking so much. So far, no one has noticed. I went to a wild 5oth birthday party on Friday night. Wild and 50 may sound like an oxymoron but no one informed that crowd and we partied like it was still 1978. Maybe it was the 70's Disco music, certainly it was the waiters carrying around trays of cosmopolitans. Rolling into bed at 4:00 AM on Saturday morning kind of screwed up the remainder of the weekend. I cleaned off the porch late in the afternoon and fell asleep after that until 7PM. A hung over dinner at The Cracker Barrel where normal 50 year olds spend their evenings and then slept until noon today. Not much opportunity for talk, between the dancing, alcohol and protracted sleep. Unfortunately, this purposeful silence hasn't inspired my writing. Maybe someone will notice this week.

I found four old wooden clothespins in a pile of junk at an auction a while ago. One red. One green. One blue. And one unpainted. The wood was smooth from years of use. For some reason they gave me a good feeling, so I stuck them in my pocket. When I got home I sat them on the windowledge in the kitchen where I have been looking at them for the past six months. I think I have them figured out. They remind me of the alley at Winthrop Drive where my mom and loads of other mom's hung their wet laundry while we kids rode our bicycles in the obstacle course created by crooked clothes poles and clean sheets. On quiet days when everyone had gone off to school and I was left to play alone, I'd gather up the clothespins, sort them by color and pretend that they were armies at war and sometimes families at war and other times good girls and bad girls. The bad girls were always red. When my mother needed more clothespins, I'd pretend one died, or went to school, which was a lot like d...

Today I heard that a writer shouldn't talk too much about what one is writing. Somehow it ruins the creative process. This explains a lot. My first, best and greatest novel has been blown into the wind as carbon dioxide. Tonight, I will call my sister and break the news. In a sense, it is her fault anyway since she is the one who elicited all this verbal detritus. There will be no great American novel born here on Chiswell Drive, it is already buried as a long, languid conversation deep in the atmosphere. So, I expect that she and all the other wonderful conversationalist in my life will understand when I tell them that I will no longer be available for oral circumlocution. Daily briefings will be available here at blogspot. For free. Comments welcome, though not seriously considered. Not so much different from all that hot air that killed my novel.