Outrage

Last October, my friend H., a  Compuware employee for 16 years, was called into a conference room along with about 50 co-workers where they were all informed their positions were being eliminated.  They had 30 minutes to vacate the premises.   H., who at age 62 was looking forward to retirement in about three years, was denied the opportunity to say goodbye to friends or co-workers, or to make any preparations for his future. "Feel free to re-apply for another position within the company," the newly unemployed folks were told.  Right.

Yesterday,  along with announcing another round of approximately 300 lay-offs, Compuware announced one notable new hire.  It's  former Detroit Mayor, Kwame Kilpatrick, who was forced to resign from office in the wake of a major scandal involving cheating and lying of every possible sort, a scandal that dragged on for months and left this already beleagured city  9 million dollars poorer.  Kilpatrick,  recently released from jail after serving a (laughable) 99 day sentence as punishment for his crimes, will transfer to the company's Dallas office, where his job will entail getting governmental health care programs in the south and southeastern United States online.

"Regardless of what you think, regardless of all the stuff that has happened, people should understand this is a very, very talented human being, and frankly, I want to take advantage of that," Peter Karmanos, Compuware CEO, said in this morning's Detroit Free Press.

Talented? At what?  Cheating people? Being morally reprehensible?  Lying?  Mismanagement of city funds?   Could one of his "talents" lie in the fact that his mother, Congresswoman Carloyn Kilpatrick, sits on the House Ways and Means Committee?

Frankly, I wouldn't trust this man to take out my garbage.

This is just the sort of disheartening news which lands a sucker punch to this soul-weary state.  At a time when thousands of hardworking, honest people in the state of Michigan have lost their jobs, it is nothing short of  an outrage to hand over a plum position to a man who abused his power and defrauded an entire city.  How about a break for some of us ordinary folks, whose needs are simply taking care of our families, paying our bills on time, and trying to live the best life we possibly can?  

Sure, I know we can't all be as "extremely talented" as our vaunted ex-Mayor, but I'm willing to bet there's a few good minds wandering around out here somewhere.

Cafe Writing ~ Picture of My Heart

...should I draw you the picture of my heart it would be what I hope you would still love though it contained nothing new.  The early possession you obtained there, and the absolute power you have obtained over it, leaves not the smallest space unoccupied."   Abigail Adams (in a letter to John Adams)

Picture my heart 35 years ago, so young and supple, untouched by worry over children or jobs or parents failing health.  It was strong and open, ready to be taken and cherished, certain to be loyal and true.  Now picture you, a quiet and lonely young man, one whose heart was wary of love, for in his experience love was a tight fist, a choke hold, an agreement destined to be broken.

Yet you found the courage to pick up a pencil and began to draw, soft and velvety lines upon my heart.   The picture you drew in those early days remain...your endless wonder at love's ability to nurture and forgive, your amazement at the power of love's growth, your excitement at the possibilities love could open within a life. 

There in my heart the images remain... when I was first learning to drive, you would drive your car in front of mine on those mornings when fog hung thick in the air, the four square tailights on the black '71 Mach One my beacon to follow along the mysterious path before me.  And there you are, sitting on the floor playing games with our son, while I go to college classes at night.  Still later, when my parents divorce sends me reeling, you step in with your signature strenght and common sense to care for my mother and me.   Not very long ago, our only child grown and gone, you filled our empty nest with comfort, caring, and love.

So here I am, my heart older now and scarred with the hurts of time.  Yet these are the pictures which remain indelibly inked upon it.  The pictures that have given you power and provenance over this beating organ of mine.  It is yours now, forever.  There is no space unoccupied.

for Cafe Writing, February

Option Four, Timed Writing

Sunday Scribblings - Art

"It does no good to wire the world if you short circuit the spirit..."

Voices raised in song...rays of sunlight beaming through stained glass windows...the gentle undulations of a silk scarf draped round a woman's shoulder...art in many forms surrounded me this afternoon as I sat in a corner pew soaking up the unbelievable sounds of a college choir. 

Music feeds my soul -  especially choral music, because it combines the two art forms I love most dearly, it juxtaposes music and language together in a complete artistic thought.  Today's young musicians, The St. Olaf College Choir, exemplified the epitome of choral singing, their purity of tone and expression oozing directly from their souls.  The great Anton Armstrong, their conductor, spoke of music being an expression of their connection to God and a "dynamic means of grace."

Art is grace, isn't it?  For those who make it and those who partake of its essence.  Yes, the world depends on science and technology, depends on wires and engines.  But the soul depends on art- on the beauty of sound and melody, of colors of paint on a canvas, the perfect sentence in black and white on the page.   Art is what connects us to the spirit, to a mystical place of wonder where pain and suffering are mitigated, where we connect with our own deeper humanity.   

What good is all the wizardry of the modern world if the  soul is dark and bare? If only everyone could find an artistic spark with which to ignite their spirit,  then what a difference in the wiring of our whole world!

for Sunday Scribblings

 [youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SwH120A7aJU&hl=en&fs=1]

Old School

My father in law has been in my thoughts lately.  Born in 1903, he came of age during the Great Depression, and that event shaped his character.  He repeatedly told the story of going to his bank in Chicago one morning to find the doors locked and a sign saying "Out of Business"  on the window.  His life savings completely gone, hopes of buying back his family farm disappeared.  His life and his outlook were forever changed.  He became pessimistic, fearful, and unable to enjoy anything.  He never trusted banks again, and took to hiding large sums of cash in strange places -we've found money wrapped in tinfoil and hidden under the ceiling tiles in the basement. Although he wasn't formally educated, having left school in the eighth grade, he was a deep thinker on many levels.  But his extreme conservatism, both politically and religiously, made for some very unpleasant dinner table conversation.  Truthfully, he most often made all of us miserable with his bombastic approach and hard core didacticism.  So, as is the way of youth, we generally discounted everything he said simply because of the way he said it. 

But I've been thinking about some of the "predictions" he made as far back as the 1980's...that globalization would be the "death of America," that the media would one day "control the country," that a world currency would be "disastrous," and credit was "evil."  That banks and financial institutions, particularly the stock market, were "not to be trusted."

Hmm. 

I'm rather glad he's not here right now, because I'm quite sure he'd be saying "I told you so"  - over and over.

In the past couple of decades it seems we've all been focused on the future- on advancing technology, global entrepreneurship, and increasing personal wealth - that perhaps we've forgotten the lessons of the past.  We need to correct the excesses that have led us to this point - we need to return to values of honest work for decent pay, and we must return jobs to America so our citizens may reap the benefits of their labor

But just as importantly, we must overcome our feelings of fear and helplessness and look for practical ways to improve this situation.  It feels to me right now as if the world is collectively frozen like the proverbial deer in the headlights, standing stock still and helpless, not knowing which way to turn.  I don't know about you, but I'm trying to jump back from the road into the relative safety of the woods while I reconnoiter and make a new plan of action. 

Although it probably wouldn't hurt to take some cash and hide it in the ceiling.

What do you think?  Has your action plan changed?  Any ideas for things the average American can do to help alleviate the current situation?

Renewed

In the midst of winter, who could imagine the resorative power of spring?  For weeks and weeks I've been sludging through snow and ice, wind battering my face and stinging my eyes.  I took for granted that this was my lot, to live through this long winter with my shoulders hunched defensively around me. I had forgotten about his magical place where the sun shines every day, the grass is still green, where rhododendrons, impatiens, and geraniums blossom in gleeful profusion.  A place where the herons dive headfirst into the lake, and sandpipers skitter beside my bare feet in the sand.  I'd forgotten that, even in January, one might be able to slip off a sweater while sipping cofffe on the patio at Starbucks, or that it was possible to kick off your sandals and let the cool ocean waves wash over your feet and ankles.

Ahh, Florida. 

For the past year or so, I've struggled with some ambivalent feelings about this southwestern Florida "paradise."   In the seven years we've been coming here, I've become dismayed by the way the area has burgeoned into a mecca of materialisim and greed.  But within our gated community things have remained quiet and serene, and I've always found it a place to retreat, an oasis of calm in an otherwise busy, overcrowded city.

In light of our recent trip to Las Vegas, however, my feelings about Florida have mitigated somewhat.  The past three days here have reminded me just how refreshing it is to escape from the ravages of winter into the gentle pleasures of  a tropical clime.

So today, after breakfast with my father and stepmother, we drove to the beach (for the second day in a row).  For the true Floridian, it's too chilly for beach-ing - but for us, 76 degrees is just fine, thank you very much.  I'm perfectly happy to wear a gauzy long sleeved shirt over my tank top and capri's, and it doesn't bother me one bit to sit for two hours in full sun and never break a sweat.  Plus, I've soaked up enough pure Vitamin D in the past two days to replace those gigantic supplement pills my doctor just prescribed.

I took a long walk down the (nearly deserted) beach, just me and the sandpipers.  I couldn't resist picking up a few more shells, although the shelf in my laundry room where I display them is getting quite full.  One of them will come home with me, I think ~it's flat and powdery smooth, layered with all my favorite shades of ecru and cream.  I imagine tucking it into the pocket of my slacks so that on some cold day, when my fingers are chilled and I thrust them inside my pocket, it will be there waiting to remind me of this magical place where summer never ends and the sun always shines.

The place where I was renewed.