Darby Girl's Perspective

Of all the intelligent and thought provoking things I've written on this humble blog of mine, I am surprised at the reaction to my "Birthday" post. Delighted and surprised. Always I want to be that thing that irritates you enough to stop and try to figure out what the hell it is that is making you so uncomfortable. If that thing is me, well then, I have done my job. Like the tag that scratches your neck all day long, the sock that slips off your heel and into your shoe, the tiny fleck of popcorn stuck in your left molar. That is me. I am more than delighted. I am ecstatic. If I knew that it would be this easy, I would have quit dying my hair long ago. Or never have started. To clarify a few fine points. We are born. We live one year and than we say we are one. But we are starting our second year. So, I am 48 this month, but really I am starting my 49th year. Math always fails me, but the truth never does. That, my dear friends is the truth. We are in our 49th year. Well, ...

Phillies won. Obama won. The stars are in the heavens and everything is all right with the world. I lost in Vegas. I took hundreds of photos and I am featured in exactly four. I am not pleased with the image but it is me as I wrap up the 48th year of my life. I am nearly fifty and I look okay. I look 50. I like the way my smile, nearly unchanged since the photo on my fridge that Uncle Buzzy gave me. I am just one year old and I look nearly the same except my eyes have shrunk and my chin has disappeared. I like the smile because it is devilish and that part of me is unmistakable. It is kept under wraps some of the time but it is there and if anyone would bother to notice, they'd see it too. The gift I have given myself this year is one of freedom. I cut my hair very short, sort of boyish. I am planning a surprise. I quit dying my hair. Soon I will surprise even myself as the image in the mirror changes from raven to white, or some place in between as the days go by. I've heard d...

Average yearly salary for these men in May 2008 was 950 million. I imagine times are really tough for them now. Donations can be sent in care of the US Taxpayer.

I received an e-mail from "Right Wing News" detailing all the stops Obama was making on Saturday. In addition to the disparaging comments and racial undertones, there was a creepy feeling that these people were stalking Obama. So, I did a web search on right wing groups and was appalled to see an advertisement for this T-Shirt. I thought these folks were Christians?

Ed Snider might own the Flyers but he doesn't own their fans. While Sarah Palin smiled for the camera, Flyers fans raised Obama/Biden signs in the background while the fans at center ice gave the thumbs down sign.

Watching McCain/Palin rallies on You-Tube tonight prompted me to say the rosary, maybe tomorrow I'll say a novena. These people are scarier than an NFL lineman on a cold, Sunday afternoon. The words, feelings and ideas they spew make me wonder if we are from the same country. Or even the same planet. While Palin continues to stoke the "Obama's buddy is a terrorist" speech, I am compelled to learn more about the infamous Bill Ayers. The Weather Underground, I remember in a vague way, mixed up with my first tie-dyed shirt and eating King Vitamin cereal while my dad watched the news. My research reveals that Bill Ayers was charged with "conspiracy to bomb" but the charges were dropped because of prosecutorial misconduct. What does that mean? I guess someone who should have known better did something that made the charges null and void. That was in the early seventies. I don't remember that at all, but by then I was busy acquiring a world class 45RPM record ...

Saturday morning mail was full of the usual store ads in addition to the pre-Christmas charity requests. I keep hearing that the credit market is tight, so it was amusing to find a credit card offer, no interest until 2010 with a line of credit to 30K dollars. Heading for the shredder I glanced at the return address-WaMu-and I realize that I am being offered cash by a bankrupt entity. The political pundits have assured me that without this bailout, credit markets would freeze and businesses across the US would grind to a halt. I am not naive, my partner owns a small business, I know about cash flow. For larger corporations, I know that cash on hand determines their bond ratings and that sort of thing. I am well aware that money makes the world go round. I just don't believe that a 700 billion dollar taxpayer financed bailout is going to improve the economy so long as Americans continue to spend money they don't really have on things they don't really need. Banks have been h...

I don't normally notice my age, or anyone else's for that matter but something interesting is happening to me and it is thoroughly age related. I have become a fount (or is it font, like print?)of historical knowledge mostly because I was there when it happened. Helping my college-aged daughter with some research, I came across an article about Jim O'Brien . Excitedly, I read on and saw another about Edie Huggins. My daughter has never heard of either of them and couldn't appreciate my story about interviewing these two local celebrities during my own college years. I even drove Jim O'Brien to my school in a musty old car that someone in the newspaper office borrowed from someone else's grandpop. I'd almost forgotten that period of my life, not long enough to even be considered a chapter, more like a non-sequiter that would have been removed by the editor. It was that short period just after high school, before I quit college, when I thought I would live my ...

Work and the economy. What does this little catch phrase mean? I am not sure but this week while the economy was on every one's mind, television and radio and sometimes simultaneously, I was thinking about work. More specifically, I am trying to devise a way to prove to my boss and her boss and probably his boss that their investment in me is worthwhile. There is plenty of anecdotal evidence to prove my value but when it comes to real numbers; dollars, cents and that sort of thing proving their return on investment has been a little, um, challenging. Frankly, I too would like to know that the work I produce results in a better bottom line. So, this week I gathered data, real numbers without funny stories attached and next week I intend to use that data to prove that I am worth the investment. This line of thinking has lead me to wonder if anyone has asked Mr. Paulson or Mr. Bernacke to reveal the data that suggests a 700 million dollar bailout is the antidote to Armageddon. A three...

In a previous post my poor math skills were revealed to the world and that deficit stands uncorrected. Nonetheless, economically speaking, I think I may be getting the shaft. Excuse the slang, there are probably nicer ways to say it, but I think it is time someone spoke clearly and didn't allow words to bundled up like the mortgage securities that are screwing me this very minute. For the past thirty years I have supported certain government programs that led many people to refer to me as a "socialist". I listened to your criticism, I sought understanding, I embraced your "free market capitalism" sermon. I was enlightened. I came to realize that healthcare, education, unemployment compensation, support for families with young children and many other social programs should not be supported by the federal government. In a free market economy, people should be encouraged to work and support themselves. People should not look to the federal government for handouts. ...

Loyal readers (all 3 of you) know that I supported Hillary Clinton for President of the United States and much of that support was related to the fact that she is a woman. Having a female fill the highest leadership role in the country, and possibly the world, would have been a real catalyst toward a more egalitarian society. Fortunately, Hillary Clinton had a remarkable legal and professional political career that made her suitable for many reasons other than her gender. I have been quietly adjusting to the reality that I will not have the opportunity to cast that vote and as much as I like Hillary for president, I did not support her as vice president. There is nothing second string about Hillary Clinton. Strategists are interested in people like me. If I am not in it for Obama, there might be a chance that I will be in it for McCain. McCain's advisers are looking closely at what people like me think, what I care about, what I relate to and dream about. They want to be my girlfri...

Photo Courtesy of Wikipedia In 1984 the Federal Government enacted a measure that withheld federal highway money from states where the legal drinking age was below 21. The goal, of course was to force states into raising the age to drink alcohol and it worked. For those of us in the Philadelphia region, it meant an end to long summer nights partying in the clubs down at the Jersey shore. The act was a death knell for places like Wildwood, NJ where the under 21 crowd filled dance and comedy clubs to capacity and made a "Vacancy" sign on a weekend night at any of the islands hotels rarer than a steak at Neil's. What it did not do in all of it's 24 years on the books was stop underage drinking. In fact, many people contend that it actually increased alcohol consumption by those under age 21. Instead of dancing and gathering together to hear the latest comedian while enjoying a cocktail, now young adults hole up in someones dorm room or basement where alcohol and the drun...

The evening we brought our puppy home, I remember thinking that she could be with us until the kids were teenagers. Watching Ali & Mark, not even school aged, as they argued over what we'd call her, imagining them grown was impossible. Since we brought her home on Friday the 13th, we decided to call her Lucky. And that we truly were. This tiny ball of fur grew into a dog that found the greatest joy in our company and we in turn felt safe and secure with her in our lives. She drove us crazy when she'd bark furiously when the kids dove into the pool. She embarrassed us when she'd try to eat the mailman or pizza delivery guy. She'd surprise us with her patience when the cats would stroke her fur or the kittens jump on her back. Lucky would always be ready for a late night Wawa run or a walk around the neighborhood with Melissa. She'd hang on the porch with Mark and Brian and the rest of the boys. She'd charm Ali's friends by stretching into their laps for ...

Yeah, the US is a big country but most people live on the coasts. I wonder why my grandfather didn't go to the other one. The one that is funky, where the weather is always pleasant and the people better looking. Too tired maybe after the long trek across the Atlantic or perhaps living on the East Coast allowed him a glimpse of home or at least a glance at the horizon that led the way back to the Adriatic Sea. Which makes me wonder why he ever left the place at all. That place more lovely than even California.

I woke up yesterday with a great plan that, because of my poor math skills, cannot come to fruition. I heard about a lottery with a three hundred million dollar jackpot. I also read that there are three hundred million Americans alive today. I believe in synchronicity and live by the mantra that "all things are meant to be". So, I woke up believing that I was meant to win the lottery and then share it with my fellow Americans. I announced at breakfast that I would soon be distributing a million dollars to every person in the country. My partner's choking sounds, as well as my son's blank stare were disappointing. "You two are so selfish. Our family will end up with five million dollars. What's so bad about sharing the rest? I don't need three hundred million. Think about how happy I could make others. Every person would be a millionaire. You guys are greedy!" I grabbed my bag and car keys, intent to get my tickets early. "Lorraine," my part...

I am recovering from a Valentine induced chocolate high and while I am sure that I am not totally sober, I am sober enough to have regretted accepting the chocolate in the first place. While in a stupor, I was told, by the man that gave me that succulent, calorie ridden treat, that he wasn't voting for Clinton. Big deal, you think, he gave you chocolate (and a wonderful home cooked meal), let him vote for whomever. I would agree except for what he said next, "because she has big hips". Hillary Clinton is a women and grown woman, on many occassions, have hips. They allow us to have laps big enough for multiple children to lie upon. They allow us to swing and sway as we flood the dance floor at family weddings during the Motown Medley. Hips give strength to our mid-sections as we heave and pull and squat and scrub during spring cleaning. Hips, like shiny, black patent leather Mary Jane shoes, are uniquely female. When my male counterpart said, "I am not voting for Cli...