Bold Soldiers

Wherever each of us is on the hawk to dove continuum, I think we have to admit that soldiers are bold. They act on their convictions and risk their lives in that action. They also risk coming home with brain damage and/or missing limbs.

So, here's to the bold soldiers of all stripes!

Happy Memorial Day to you and the warriors closest to your heart.


Add to del.icio.us - Stumble It! - Subscribe to this feed - Digg it

---

Gutsy Obama

However you feel about the healthcare reform bill passed this week(and I'm heartily in favor), it's surely clear that Obama is a president who has stuck his neck out. Who bet the farm. Who put his eggs in one basket. And any of the other cliches that stand for high-risk persistence over a long haul in the face of stubborn obstacles.

And he succeeded.

Obama was my candidate. And, though I don't agree with everything he has done (the war business), I'm immensely proud of him. Especially for the courageous and pragmatic way he has pursued this legislation.

---

Add to del.icio.us - Stumble It! - Subscribe to this feed - Digg it

---

Getting Focused

I keep ducking out of the task before me today to cruise celebrity gossip web sites. Partly because I've worked too much lately and partly because of the disaster in Haiti.

Here's the Haiti connection: when something huge is going on, it feels wrong not to be somehow involved in the moment. It reminds me of the feeling I had once in the early 70s when I was working as a reporter for the local afternoon paper, The Raleigh Times. Some big local story broke; I have a vague memory of a hijacking attempt at the airport. I was working on another story and wasn't shifted to the big news of the day. In the newsroom I was surrounded by people madly working at deadline on this one overwhelming event. It made what I was doing feel trivial, or disrespectful, or just beside the point.

Curiously the opposite was true during the 9/11 morning. I was creating a set of book club questions about themes in my novel Sister India. I learned that one tower had gone down. Then I went back to work. Somehow the impulse to find a TV to watch felt like prurient interest. (It somehow didn't occur to me that another building might fall. I foolishly optimistically assumed it was over.)

In any case, the fact that my novel was about Hindu-Muslim clashes in an Indian holy city made what I was doing feel intensely relevant.

I have no such feeling about my schedule for today and any connection with the collapsed city of Port-au-Prince. And I'm distracted.

The bold thing -- the right thing -- is to send money, say a prayer, and go back to doing the stuff that is mine to do. Certainly my dawdling at Page Six Celebrity Gossip isn't going to help anything.

---

Add to del.icio.us - Stumble It! - Subscribe to this feed - Digg it

---

Help Haiti

Prayers for Haiti and... here's a good annotated Guide to Haiti Relief Funds


Welcome to doni_ione, carmen_tourney2, ktr2, and jsuddath.

---

Add to del.icio.us - Stumble It! - Subscribe to this feed - Digg it

---

The Courage to Make a Controversial Stand

A new hero of mine: Olympia Snowe, Republican senator from Maine.

She's the only senator of her party to vote for the Obama-backed healthcare reform bill this week. And she has ignored right-wing doctrine before: voting against a bill to ban gay marriage.

Hail, Ms. Snowe.

I hope her courage and her thinking set a good example for others on votes to come. I'd never heard of her before this week, but I won't forget her now.

---

Add to del.icio.us - Stumble It! - Subscribe to this feed - Digg it

---

Gavriel Lipkind, Carrie Knowles, and the B.C.O.

I don't know how to say this properly, because I know so little about classical music. I'm a fan of hip-hop and old rock and roll. I play the serious stuff mainly as background while I'm reading, and go to classical concerts mainly to get dressed up and go out on the town with friends and sit under nice chandeliers and listen to pretty music that I don't usually recognize.

But last night I went to a concert that was extraordinary. Even for a clunk like me.

Israeli cellist Gavriel Lipkind played with the Brussels Chamber Orchestra (of Belgium) in Raleigh in the official opening night of the Cross Currents Chamber Music Arts Festival, an international chamber music festival created and put on single-handedly by my friend and office partner Carrie Knowles whose son Neil Leiter plays viola in the Brussels group.

For most of the last year, Carrie has sat in the office next to mine and raised money and gotten visas and such and made this ten-day festival happen. What she has done is an amazing demonstration of what one person can accomplish (in spite of my telling her repeatedly and unhelpfully that she was mad to attempt such a thing. Just watching the process from next door was like having an office next to a heliport)

Well, the Brussels Chamber Orchestra, a conductor-free group of a dozen or so young musicians from half a dozen countries, played beautifully and were intriguing to watch. Then they brought out their soloist, Lipkind, whom I'd had no special interest in because I was mainly listening for Neil whom I've known since he was a wee fellow. The Belgium-based musicians had met the Israeli cellist in Norway.

Lipkind and the BCO together were an astonishing treat. And at intermission, I caught sight of Mamie, a regular here, who called out: I'm looking forward to reading about how bold he is.

I hadn't even thought about writing of the experience. Sitting on the second row, I was too overwhelmed. Lipkind, in a black "bat" shirt and long gold curls, is the most physically expressive, playful, and joyous musician I've ever seen. It's not reaching for a metaphor to say that he was making love to the music.

I can't tell you a thing about his or anyone's pizzicati (and I'm not sure if that's a word or if it's a word meaning little pasta), but it was thrilling music to watch and to listen to. And the interaction between him and the other musicians was like watching a celestial drama.

Seriously bold. Nobody holding back.

And this group of musicians and Carrie did their job well, at least in my case, since it's part of their mission to bring chamber music to new audiences.

---

Add to del.icio.us - Stumble It! - Subscribe to this feed - Digg it

---

Call Your Congressman Monday

An invitation arrived here that's open to anyone who has things to say about improved health insurance coverage:


"Event: National Strike for Health Care Reform

"Put an end to murder by spreadsheet. Demand an alternative to private, for-profit health insurance. Demand public, universal health care coverage."

What: Protest
Host: You -- and as many fellow citizens as you can assemble
Start Time: Monday, July 6 at 8:00am
End Time: Monday, July 6 at 6:00pm
Where: Everywhere in the United States of America

To see more details and RSVP, follow the link below:
http://www.facebook.com/n/?event.php&eid=93893269141&mid=a8e182G4b0e108aG8f29dbG7"

I don't have a detailed plan in mind myself for health care insurance reform. But I know for sure that we need it.

This invitation, as you'll see if you follow the link, suggests staying home from work and buying nothing and calling Congressmen all day.

I disagree, especially in this economy, with the idea of skipping out on a job and boycotting already-endangered retailers.

I do heartily endorse the idea of a nation-wide call-in insisting on reform that makes sure everybody has good affordable health insurance, with coverage that is pro-health rather than a Catch-22 system where, for example, it's impossible to know whether a procedure is covered until it's done.

---

Add to del.icio.us - Stumble It! - Subscribe to this feed - Digg it

---

Live at "Dancing Like the Stars"

On Sunday afternoon, Ruth Sheehan, one of my intrepid sisters-in-law, engaged in a public dance competition at the N.C. State Fairgrounds on behalf of children with special needs and the honor of the newspaper industry. She and her dance partner won!

That's her in the pink sequins, as photographed on my phone by her nine year old son Tucker who was sitting beside me at Dancing Like The Stars. She's dancing with Dick Hensley, a dance instructor who performed in the movie Dirty Dancing.

Ruth is a columnist at Raleigh's News & Observer, and she was competing against TV people (accustomed to performing in person). Each of the media contestants had a professional dance partner who rehearsed with her/him for six weeks. Then they all got dolled up like those on the TV show, "Dancing With the Stars" and each couple danced for the live audience.

People could vote on-line, after watching a video of a rehearsal, or at the performance. Votes cost $10 for the first and $1 for any additional. The money went to the Bubel/Aiken Foundation, for programs that promote inclusion of kids with special needs. The show was emceed by Clay Aiken's mother, Faye Parker. (Clay's from here in Raleigh.)

Ruth and Dick got the most votes. No way could a devout newspaper person let a broadcaster win. Never mind that one of them was a former Washington Redskins cheerleader and Ruth has long been known for bumping into doorjambs and the edges of things. But you can't beat a crusading columnist like her; as one of the judges, a waggish Simon Cowell wannabe, said: Ruth, your dancing, like your column was all over the place and leaning a little to the left.

I don't know how much money the children's foundation took in, but I'm guessing it was a fair amount. Because the competition was seriously bold. One 6'5" sportscaster did "the worm" across the stage and jumped over his partner. The dancers went all out, and what a lot of fun it was.... There's nothing like getting fiercely competitive and bold in pink sequins--and for a good cause.




If you like this post, please bookmark it on del.icio.us, share it on StumbleUpon, vote for it on Digg. Thanks so much.

Dancing Like The Stars

The dancer in pink took action beyond-bold for a good cause on Sunday. More to come on this story tomorrow.




If you like this post, please bookmark it on del.icio.us, share it on StumbleUpon, vote for it on Digg. Thanks so much.

Never Shake a Baby

Seems like it's either Pickle Day or Fork Lift Operator Month or some such, every time the calendar page turns over.

This month is one we might take notice of: National Child Abuse Prevention Month. Here's something you can do in observance that is so easy it barely counts as bold. But it's important: Go to the site of the Child Abuse Prevention Center and take the Never-Shake-A-Baby pledge, on the right below the kiddo with enormous eyes and a pacifier. Raising awareness of the danger will help to educate and pacify babysitters and parents who have run out of patience.

Here are a few other actions you can take. Intervening in child abuse is truly bold.



If you like this post, please bookmark it on del.icio.us, share it on StumbleUpon, vote for it on Digg. Thanks so much.

Stand By Someone

Take some inspiration from street musicians around the world who "Play for Change." Listen to "Stand By Me." Click on the big screen-filling picture of Grandpa Elliott in New Orleans.



If you like this post, please bookmark it on del.icio.us, share it on StumbleUpon, vote for it on Digg. Thanks so much.

The Boldest Business

I'm alarmed and saddened by the ongoing disaster in the newspaper industry.

Yesterday was a sort of Black Monday here in Raleigh, another long list of very good reporters and editors got their pink slips at The News & Observer. In the last few weeks, one major American paper has died and another has cut back to a very trimmed-down online existence. Newspapers' very continuation is threatened.

I'm frightened by the thought of an America without serious daily news reporting. Imagine what some of our sneakier administrations would have gotten away with if no one were looking. Blogging, as we now know it, is not enough. Blogging is rarely more than comments on recycled news. And the advertising on blogs will not support the kind of news gathering operation that is adequate to covering what's going on. Who knows when that revenue rise, if ever? Our country can't go a minute without reporters.

Reporting is the bold business of poking into places that often tell you to stay out. We need that as much as we need police and firemen and a whole lot of other basic services.

I'm hoping someone will come up with a bold solution fast to SAVE THE NEWSPAPERS.






If you like this post, please bookmark it on del.icio.us, share it on StumbleUpon, vote for it on Digg. Thanks so much.

Blood Done Sign My Name

Saturday night I went to see a one-man play based on the nonfiction book Blood Done Sign My Name, the story of a racial conflict and killing of a young black man in Oxford, NC, back when author Tim Tyson was living there as a young son of a liberal minister.

His book, a bestseller that deserves to be, began when he, now an American studies historian at Duke, went back to Oxford to do some research and dig into what happened.

First example of boldness: to go to the small town where the white accused was acquitted and interview people about what they saw. (The anger at Tyson is still hot.)

Second example of boldness: to be the liberal minister (Vernon Tyson) holding a bi-racial service in a town divided by segregation and violence.

Third example of boldness: to live day to day as the mother of young black men, as does psalmist Mary D. Williams who sang gospel for the play. To be one of any minority group that isn't surprised by injustice.

Seeing the play made me think again about my rage when Blue Cross treated me unfairly recently. That kind of treatment I think of as simply unacceptable; as my mother used to say to her misbehaving children, "We're not going to have that." (That edict extended even to having diseases and once to having a hurricane.) My daily expectation is that injustice is behavior that "will not do."

For myself, I unthinkingly expect straight-up dealings because I have always been so privileged. Any exception to that is a shocking event.

And yet I grew up seeing and not-seeing and being a silent part of that kind of injustice during legally segregated years in Wilmington (where the racial violence occurred that makes up the last section of Blood Done Sign My Name.)

I read the book years ago, after my brother Harry read it and said: you have to read this. If you haven't already, do. And if Mike Wiley's one-man performance of 17 different roles in this story happens to play near you, be sure to see it. If you're like me, your eyes need constant re-awaking.




If you like this post, please bookmark it on del.icio.us, share it on StumbleUpon, vote for it on Digg. Thanks so much.

Jury Duty!

We showed up at 9 a.m. at the courthouse, half a courtroom full of varied individuals. The man sitting beside me, Sean, was an art director maybe in his late 30s.

In front of me were two black women who seemed to know each other. A lot of men in shirtsleeves, not a single tie. One 65ish woman in a tres svelte suit and a killer good haircut. A tired-looking blonde girl within days of having a baby. A very tall lanky young fellow with a Dutch name several rows ahead. (I know his name because he was one of the nine mildly stunned when their names were drawn, not for the trial of the day, but for a year-long appointment to the Grand Jury which meets once a month.)

At about 11 a.m. we were dismissed for three hours for the court to do preliminary business. I worked on my novel--minor changes on hard copy in pen--first at the hip, granola-ish General Store Cafe (caramel apple cake and decaf) and then when the Council on Aging started pouring in for their lunch meeting, at Hardee's (medium-sized sweet iced tea, if you must know; could have done worse.)

At 2 p.m., we all returned and filled the pews again. All of us on time, nobody skipping town. The judge Narley Cashwell, who'd done an impressive job of being clear in his explanations without being condescending, then dismissed us. The defendant, charged with assaulting a policeman, possession of drugs, etc., had decided at lunch to plead guilty. The jury pool erupted in applause at the news.

While it was an interesting little adventure in, for me, a different town than usual, none of us really longed to be there, it seemed. We were all taking time away from something else.

My point: we have a bold system of government that relies on people showing up, I do know there'd be trouble for anyone who didn't, but trouble is not always a deterrent. Our system really does rely on any and every person. I know it makes mistakes, but still... It made me kinda proud to see it again, genuinely democratic, in action.





If you like this post, please bookmark it on del.icio.us, share it on StumbleUpon, vote for it on Digg. Thanks so much.

What Roy Blount Wants for Christmas

Roy Blount, Jr., that jolly old elf, is current King Pen of the Authors Guild, and just sent this out to the membership. I think it's a great idea.


"We don't want bookstores to die. Authors need them, and so do neighborhoods. So let's mount a book-buying splurge. Get your friends together, go to your local bookstore and have a book-buying party. Buy the rest of your Christmas presents, but that's just for starters.

Clear out the mysteries,
wrap up the histories,
beam up the science fiction!

Round up the westerns,
go crazy for self-help,
say yes to the university press books!

Get a load of those coffee-table books,
fatten up on slim volumes of verse,
and take a chance on romance!

There will be birthdays in the next twelve months; books keep well; they're easy to wrap: buy those books now. Buy replacements for any books looking raggedy on your shelves. Stockpile children's books as gifts for friends who look like they may eventually give birth. Hold off on the flat-screen TV and the GPS (they'll be cheaper after Christmas) and buy many, many books. Then tell the grateful booksellers, who by this time will be hanging onto your legs begging you to stay and live with their cat in the stockroom: 'Got to move on, folks. Got some books to write now.'"

(Okay, you're not an old elf, Roy, but jolly good funny.)

If you happen to be a Durhamite, you might choose to party at The Regulator, or in Raleigh at Quail Ridge Books & Music.

(Note: the line breaks and boldfacing are all mine.)





If you like this post, please bookmark it on del.icio.us, share it on StumbleUpon, vote for it on Digg. Thanks so much.

Terrorism in India

What has happened in Mumbai -- the attacks at hotels, train station, other sites -- disturbs me in one way that I'm not hearing mentioned in the interviews I've seen.

This dreadful assault is getting worldwide attention, apparently because there have been foreign victims and because the site is a world financial center.

But there have been many other outbreaks of communal violence, in India and elsewhere, that did not register more than a flicker on the world media screen.

I wrote about one of those rounds, which occurred in the Indian city Varanasi where I was living to research my novel Sister India.

Those events became part of the novel. Taking notes and writing are probably my major coping mechanism.

The street fighting broke out about a week and a half after I arrived, and the city of a million people was then shut down in curfew for 24 hours a day for most of the next two weeks. All businesses closed. Everyone to stay inside.

A bomb blew up an apartment building about a kilometer away from my flat. I could hear gunfire from my rooftop patio.

I had flashbacks for two years after my return about a grisly incident in a nearby street that I hadn't even witnessed, but only read about. A rickshaw full of Hindu women was hacked to death. I couldn't stop myself from re-imagining it.

But no foreigners were involved. I was in almost no danger, because being neither Hindu nor Muslim, I wasn't a target. And the news was barely a flicker back in the USA.

I can only imagine what it was like to be holed up in the Taj (where I once spent a few days) while terrorists were hunting people to shoot, with a special interest in those who looked like me.

Even so, it feels wrong to me that events of similar magnitude stir so little outrage when the targets aren't American. I do understand press coverage that focuses on a local angle; but I don't like that an event becomes a global outrage more often when well-heeled foreigners are involved.

(An aside: the most elegant party I have ever attended was a night-time torchlit reception in the gardens of one of the homes of the Oberoi family of the Oberoi hotel that was a target of these attacks. It was on my first visit to India in the late 70s with the Society of American Travel Writers.)

I am grieved by what has happened, hated seeing the grand old waterfront Taj ablaze.
And want, for whatever good it does, for every random violent death to get the same indignation.



If you like this post, please bookmark it on del.icio.us, share it on StumbleUpon, vote for it on Digg. Thanks so much.

Your Vote Counts: Winning by a GASP

In the little I did about campaigning, I was plagued and hindered by the thought that I wasn't doing any good for my candidate. Phone-banking--well, I did it, but at the same time I know I've never been persuaded of anything by somebody calling me from a campaign. Same thing with door-to-door canvassing.

However, when I look at the campaign group that formed and blossomed in my town in only the last weeks of the campaign, I'm convinced as never before that every single vote matters, and that every effort to help a voter get registered and to the polling place counts.

Here's the persuasive (to me) data: GASP began with ten women about six weeks before the election. By election night, there were more than a thousand: registering people to vote, cooking meals for volunteers, writing, making calls, and giving many thousands of dollars.

Then when the votes were in, North Carolina went for Obama, first time for a Democrat since Carter in 1976, by roughly 14,000 votes. Wake, where GASP was at work, went for Obama by about 15 percentage points. Had Obama led in Wake by only 12 points, Obama would have lacked the votes to win the state.

Though it cannot be absolutely nailed down, I am convinced that the 1,000 + women made the difference. Disclosure: I'm not even officially a GASPER, never went to the first meeting. But from now on, when doubts arise about whether my effort will help, I'm going to remember this, and do what I can.

Addendum: GASP is now looking at what their next effort should be.


If you like this post, please bookmark it on del.icio.us, share it on StumbleUpon, vote for it on Digg. Thanks so much.

Toughness and Serenity

A hope I have for this new administration: that the uncommonly calm-seeming Obama will make it hip to be understated.

I have a stake in this. While I strive to be bold and clear, I'm naturally inclined toward saying things only once and none too loudly.

Now we have a leader who has managed this enormous political feat while seeming almost serene. In the last week, Charlie Rose asked of one of his guests: "Does he have any outrage?"

I very much admire the combo of leadership and calm.

See?! Soft-spoken does not mean wimpy.

A person can boldly step to the front of the free world without getting all rowdy about it.

I thought I'd seen someone else writing to the same effect, with the title "Born to Be Mild." But it was about a motorcycle.



If you like this post, please bookmark it on del.icio.us, share it on StumbleUpon, vote for it on Digg. Thanks so much.

America the Bold!

I am happy! and grateful! at the election results.

John McCain was heroic, showed true leadership, in his concession speech. It couldn't have been more graceful.

Barack Obama--well, you know how I feel. He makes me so proud of my country. The only moment I thought he showed his own pride and joy last night was when he introduced his wife as: "the next First Lady of the United States." In a gut way, that was the moment that stirred me the most.

I know also that many are disappointed this morning, people who worked hard for McCain. Listening to him last night, I could understand why. I'm trusting that, as was promised last night, Obama will prove himself to you, that he will be your president too.



If you like this post, please bookmark it on del.icio.us, share it on StumbleUpon, vote for it on Digg. Thanks so much.

The Eve of Election

If you haven't already voted, please figure out when you're going to do it tomorrow. Allow plenty of time. Take a book. Take a neighbor. I don't think there has been a more crucial election in my lifetime (except, of course, when my brother has been on the ballot in NC.)

Today it seems that everybody I see is a little agitated and excited. The security guards in a state office building wanted to know where to get the particular Obama pin I was wearing (the one with Martin Luther King on it.) When I said where I'd gotten it, one of them lit out down the street on foot to get one.

Or maybe it's just me seeing the whole world as excited. If I wake up tightly wound, I realize it first when I can't decide what to wear. If I simply can't accessorize. This morning it was scarf fever. I tried so many different things around my neck that finally my husband, who thinks scarves are silly and unnecessary, started telling me that each one looked good.

I gave up. No scarf.

Tomorrow, I'm signed on to spend the last hours of the voting day as an IMPARTIAL observer at polling place. I'm just to watch and make sure everybody gets to vote and report any problems to an on-call lawyer or technical problems guy. To seem impartial, I will have to calm down. This would indeed be bold.



If you like this post, please bookmark it on del.icio.us, share it on StumbleUpon, vote for it on Digg. Thanks so much.