politics, Uncategorized

beyond the palin

My roommate and I woke up this morning and discussed Sarah Palin for an hour. When I returned to the Internet, I found some context in an Alaskan perspective on Palin, from the Mudflats Alaska politics blog. (A fellow WordPresser.) The full post is very informative, and goes into a lot more details on the Wooten ethics scandal, among other things. Here’s a sample:

Before her meteoric rise to political success as governor, just two short years ago Sarah Palin was the mayor of Wasilla. I had a good chuckle at MSN.com’s claim that she had been the mayor of “Wasilla City”. It is not a city. Just Wasilla. Wasilla is the heart of the Alaska “Bible belt” and Sarah was raised amongst the tribe that believes creationism should be taught in our public schools, homosexuality is a sin, and life begins at conception. She’s a gun-toting, hang ‘em high conservative. Remember…this is where her approval ratings come from. There is no doubt that McCain again is making a strategic choice to appeal to a particular demographic – fundamentalist right-wing gun-owning Christians. And Republican bloggers are already gushing about how she has ‘more executive experience’ than Obama does! Above is a picture of lovely downtown Wasilla, for those of you unfamiliar with the area. Behind the Mug-Shot Saloon (the first bar I visited when I moved to Alaska long ago) is a little strip mall. There are street signs in Wasilla with bullet holes in them. Wasilla has a population of about 5500 people, and 1979 occupied housing units. This is where your potential Vice President was two short years ago. Can you imagine her negotiating a nuclear non-proliferation treaty? Discussing foreign policy? Understanding non-Alaskan issues?

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politics

dreams from the candidate

It doesn’t seem right to let the week go by without noting that Obama’s acceptance speech made me so proud to be a citizen of our country. I watched it with Robert from a Ravenswood television, eating Chicago pizza, and cheering. The next day, which was yesterday, I looked at everyone around me differently, on the train and on the streets. As if we were all agents of a collective force for change.

When I was in Vancouver in April, talking theater with another group of disgruntled artists, I was taken to task on the foreign policies of the Bush Administration, which is a little like taking candy from a baby. The only response I had to say was “I have a lot of hope for Obama.”

My Canadian theatrical interlocutor responded, “We all do, too,” which reminded me how many other nations have stakes in this election and in our politics.

That hope, which has grown as I’ve traveled around this country and heard people’s enthusiasm for him, and renewed sense of purpose, is now no more a dream. It’s a reality. We got him nominated, and now we can get him elected, and then we can get back to work. And not a moment too soon.

These words have been quoted everywhere words are quoted:

And Democrats, we must also admit that fulfilling America’s promise will require more than just money. It will require a renewed sense of responsibility from each of us to recover what John F. Kennedy called our “intellectual and moral strength.” Yes, government must lead on energy independence, but each of us must do our part to make our homes and businesses more efficient. Yes, we must provide more ladders to success for young men who fall into lives of crime and despair. But we must also admit that programs alone can’t replace parents; that government can’t turn off the television and make a child do her homework; that fathers must take more responsibility for providing the love and guidance their children need.

And these:

These are the policies I will pursue. And in the weeks ahead, I look forward to debating them with John McCain.

But what I will not do is suggest that the senator takes his positions for political purposes. Because one of the things that we have to change in our politics is the idea that people cannot disagree without challenging each other’s character and patriotism.

The times are too serious, the stakes are too high for this same partisan playbook. So let us agree that patriotism has no party. I love this country, and so do you, and so does John McCain. The men and women who serve in our battlefields may be Democrats and Republicans and Independents, but they have fought together and bled together and some died together under the same proud flag. They have not served a Red America or a Blue America, they have served the United States of America.

The full text of his speech is here.

Let us keep that promise, that American promise, and in the words of Scripture, hold firmly, without wavering, to the hope that we confess.

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politics, travel

(belated) dispatches from texas

I spent Memorial Day Weekend visiting my friend Sari in San Antonio. We drove from there to Brownsville, at the very southernmost tip of Texas.

We dropped off her aunt Rosa to travel further south, to a relative’s ranch in Monterrey, and the two of us spent a few days exploring Brownsville, Matamoros, and even, very briefly, the spring-break destination of South Padre Island. She used to be a reporter for the paper there, and so is very connected – and we got to catch up with folks from the Mexican consulate, the economic development commission, and the paper.

Brownsville is beautiful – it’s so close to the water that the air is always full of low, oceanic clouds. The streets have cracks and cobblestones. Tourists flock to South Padre Island, a beach-and-condo-coated island awash in T-shirt and seashell shops. You get to the island by hurtling across a long freeway bridge, that turns into a parking lot when you try to leave.

(Lots of interesting Jewish dynamics in this part of Texas, too – I was assured by everyone I met that Israelis run all the T-shirt shops and Mexicans the seashell shops on SPI, and even told by one person that the T-shirt shops were “laundering money for Israel.” I didn’t have time to be offended by this before it was explained to me that cartel-based money laundering is so prevalent in those environs that no one means anything particular by it.)

Sari also took me to see the old Jewish cemetery in Brownsville, next to the much larger town/Mexican/Catholic cemetery. The Jewish cemetery is surrounded by a wall and has better groundskeeping – the graves are spaced, the grass is cut. It looks like a postage stamp of excessive order on an envelope of a larger, overgrown graveyard. We talked about the origins of separate graveyards, and how religious customs can come off as racism sometimes.

Border Patrol cops were ubiquitous. On the drive down, we passed an enormous detainment camp for immigrants who are being deported. Sari and I walked down the beach to the end of the United States, to the Rio Grande and the border, where you can look across the water to Mexico. We saw people swimming and fishing in the water on both and all sides, oblivious of – or in defiance of – the national dividing line.

We met with a farmer who’s arguing with Homeland Security about them putting “the wall” across his land – issues of compensation, of the land losing its value, of them not knowing what kind of a wall it’s going to be. The whole operation seems disorganized, but it moves forward anyway, despite its lunacy. As one of Sari’s friends said to us this weekend, “If you build a sixteen-foot wall, they’re just going to get a seventeen-foot ladder.”

After all, building enormous walls is always such a great political move. With the upcoming election and (hopeful) change in political parties, this idiotic wall may yet not happen. But they continue to move forward, trying to buy up land at less than its value and impact the livelihood of small Texas farmers.

This farmer, whose name I won’t mention (because we didn’t tell him we’d be writing about him) was as pro-enforcement and conservative as you can get. He doesn’t want any illegal immigration happening on or around his land. But he’s also a practical man who makes his living farming, and he knows the wall’s
a) not going to work
b) a terrible idea.
c) not going to work.

On a less political note, the food was amazing. I ate the best huevos rancheros I’ve ever experienced in my life, at the Toddle Inn. We were greeted as old friends at Captain Bob’s, a self-run fishing operation and sea food restaurant. Bob is also the purveyor of a local blog. Brownsville is blog-crazy, both for politics and for gossip – everyone we met was talking about the comments on such-and-such’s blog.

I loved it – the community, the people, and the landscape – and I hope I get to spend more time there soon.

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journalism, politics

press free

I can’t go to this but I wish I could – a media reform conference in Minneapolis, June 6-8. MoveOn sent it to me.

“Please consider joining members of Congress, new media visionaries, civil rights trailblazers, top grassroots organizers, and thousands of concerned citizens at the National Conference for Media Reform in Minneapolis/St. Paul this June 6-8 (Fri-Sun)—organized by our friends at Free Press.”

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politics

senator from california

From CNN: Feinstein waiting to hear from Clinton about superdelegate strategy.

Sen. Dianne Feinstein, a key supporter of Clinton’s White House bid, said Wednesday that the drawn-out race for the Democratic presidential nomination is producing “negative dividends in terms of strife within the party.”

Feinstein, D-California, said she wants to talk to Clinton to “see what her view is on the rest of the race, what the strategy is.”

Feinstein, who described herself as “very loyal” to Clinton, said “the question comes whether she can get the delegates that she needs, and I’d like to know what the strategy is to do that.”

She said she called Clinton two days ago but hasn’t heard back.

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politics

it’s-about-time-ary

I find it very interesting to read all this stuff about the character of Indiana after spending February doing experimental theater there. I fell in love with the state, as I think everyone we brought in from out of town did – and especially with the honesty, integrity, and friendliness of the folks we worked with. And now it’s interesting to think of them deciding, in effect, the Democratic nomination. A tiebreaker, as Obama said today. A good metaphor for a sports-loving state.

I think what’s going to break that tie is a sense of character. Really. That’s what seemed to be the most important to everyone who I met in the state of Indiana. Character, family, community.
I felt like I understood the US much better, for better and for worse – but mostly for better – after my month there. I’m looking forward to returning to Indiana next February, and every February for the foreseeable future, for the Convergence. Of all the places I’ve stayed this year, Indiana felt like it had the most to do with home. That surprised me, but it’s true.

I really don’t believe that the Indiana citizens I met would vote against Obama because of his race. Not for a second. I also think that they are not going to be distracted by bad economic gas-tax gimmicks, or by the dead-horse political issue of Rev. Wright. I think they’re going to vote on a sense of who they respect – whose character, whose values (remember that word? maybe I should say whose ethics, whose political philosophy – but I think the Democrats should make a stab at reclaiming the word “values”) they admire.

From the Washington Post:
Brian Howey: Indiana does not have a lengthy history of minority representation. In our 192 year history, we’ve had three African-American mayors, all from Gary. We’ve elected two African-American sheriffs. We’ve elected three black Members of Congress and Katie Hall of Gary lost to Pete Visclosky after just one term (the third, Rep. Andre Carson, is fighting a tough primary to keep his grandmother’s seat). We’ve had two Hispanic mayors. Indiana has not elected a female governor, though the past two lieutenant governors have been female. So while we’ve had lots of minority city councilmen, there hasn’t been much congressional or executive power in black hands. An Obama victory would be historic.

Historic and timely. More Q and As with Brian here.

Brian Howey: […] The national media has sometimes portrayed us as a change resistant state. In the last three election cycles, Hoosier voters have tossed out an incumbent governor, three incumbent congressmen, the President of the Indiana Senate, the Senate Finance Chairman, the mayor of Indianapolis and about 40 percent of his incumbent brethren. We’ve switched to Daylight Saving Time. We can change and do change if someone can logically make the case for such change. If Obama wins Indiana, it will say volumes about our shift as a progressive state. By the way, Hoosiers helped invent the automobile, TV, 2 percent milk and tomato juice. The Bloody Mary wouldn’t exist without Hoosiers.

I have refrained from asking my Indiana Democrat friends who they are voting for in this primary. It’s none of my business. I am thinking of them a lot today, though, and wishing them luck in making this decision that the whole nation has had such a tough time with. Gentlemen, and ladies, cast your ballots.

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politics, writing

words to write a candle by

“Literature, like magic, has always been about the handling of secrets, about the pain, the destruction, and the marvelous liberation that can result when they are revealed. If a writer doesn’t give away secrets, his own or those of the people he loves, if he doesn’t court disapproval, reproach and general wrath, whether of friends, family or party apparatchiks… the result is pallid, inanimate, a lump of earth.”
– Michael Chabon

And on Obama’s candidacy: “To support Obama, we must permit ourselves to feel hope…”

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politics, writing

64 crayons

After a day between Astoria and the Astor St. Station, I went out to dinner with my aunt and uncle, and we discussed the 1973 Antioch College student strike. The Antioch alumni association is now trying to raise money to save the college, which has suffered more and more from low finances and low enrollment since then. (It was almost shut down in 2007.) They told me a number of stories about the actual strike.

From the Yellow Springs News Online:

” During the winter quarter of 1973, cutbacks in education spending by the Nixon administration seemed likely. Antioch allocated $300,000 for student loans, but students in the New Directions program, which was created in 1970 to increase the enrollment of minority and low-income students at the college, felt Antioch wasn’t providing sufficient guarantee that they would be supported until graduation.

On April 18, 1973, the New Directions and financial aid students said that they would strike within 48 hours if the Antioch Board of Trustees didn’t guarantee financial support to keep the students at the college.”

The campus was effectively shut down through the beginning of June, and my aunt was involved both in the strike itself and the actions to reinstate expelled students after it was over. I’m crazy, but I think there’s definitely a play in it – a big, messy, historical play about America, the 60s aftermath, education, financial aid, social class, and everything else you want a play to be about. I’m going to come back in April to interview her, and try to talk to some of the other major participants around the country. I may go to the school, too, assuming it stays open – even if it doesn’t. This feels like one of the most significant ideas I’ve ever come across. I feel the way I did when I first read LYSISTRATA. It means something. What remains to be seen, but it’s something unwieldy, large, exciting. (Adjectives.)

We also talked about governments subsidizing the arts, and they pointed out what I should have thought of before – that nonprofit status is effectively government subsidy within this country, and our tax code. The European countries that have more direct government subsidies of the arts take that tradition from a history of monarchy or theocracy, and patronage systems. Since this country doesn’t have that tradition, it doesn’t have that system.
Boy, does that shake up my brain’s opinions on the arts in the US and Europe. Color me having too many different ideas at once.

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family, Lydia, politics, travel

turn the page

I’m packing – tomorrow I fly to NYC, after the evening’s preview, on a red-eye. I’ve been in Denver since Dec 6th, the longest I’ve been anywhere since Ashland.

Today I met my great-aunt and great-uncle by marriage, Rose and Floyd, who have been in Denver since 1944. We had a really great conversation over dinner at Hotel Teatro Cafe on 14th before they came to LYDIA this evening – we talked about WWII, Japan, Hawaii, the 100th Battalion, the segregated units, the internment camps, the GI Bill, the US, Israel, the concept of apikoros (non-practicing believer), Judaism, Unitarianism, theater, city planning, architecture, and our families. And borders. And the meaning of global citizenship. And my brother Zack, who they haven’t seen since Lew and Susan’s wedding – fifteen years ago? – playing the piano. It was a conversation of memory and history and I’m still spinning around from the ideas in it.

Looking over the past few blog entries I can smell homesickness, longing for LA, even second-guessing my decision to spend this year running around the country like a chicken with its head cut off. But meeting people like this, even if it’s briefly, makes the entire project seem worthwhile. I never would have known them if I hadn’t come to Denver.

I hope they enjoyed the play – well, as I was saying to a departing audience member, enjoyed isn’t the right word – but I hope they were moved by it. I sat four rows from the stage tonight, and it was amazing how O.R. could make her eyes look like a brain-damaged person. Her portrayal is naturalistic in detail but theatrical in scale.

I also had a phone work session with Tony on Oedipus today, and with Amina on Medea yesterday, and the Convergence proceeds inexorably.

It’s a disjointed life I’m leading, but a full one. If there doesn’t seem to be a plot right now, maybe that’s all right. Maybe this part of my existence is more of a montage. Or an overture to an unwritten opera.

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