Professionalism in Politics

 It wasn't all that long ago that Americans were freaking out over the POTUS wearing a tan suit.  Cries across the land of "unpresidential" "unprofessional" and even "tacky" echoed from the purple mountain majesties and the fruited plain.  

Maybe it's because I'm nonpartisan, I saw nothing wrong with the tan suit.  I thought it made a nice change from the usual navy or black, a bit of individuality in a cookie-cutter profession, but ultimately I'm more invested the the POTUS's policies and character.   

Today I'm sure I'm not the only one wishing for the tan suit scandal. Not because of how the current POTUS dresses, but because of how he and many of our elected officials are behaving.  I'm not talking about what these people say and do in private, or even in a casual public moment.  I'm talking about official communications (and yes, that includes the social media of any given office.)  

Partisans are quick to point out that the other party forced a dementia patient onto us.  Some nonpartisans suspect said patients were put into place by "handlers".  But dementia is not so much a question of professionalism as it is a question of capability.   So I'm going to ignore that question. 

It upsets me that two of the most common current political catchphrases -- ones used by professionals -- are FJB and FDT.  Imagine walking into a job interview and saying that about the other applicants.  Imagine telling the interviewer mean things about the previous holders of the position.  Smear campaigns used to be the most unprofessional thing they did... not any more. 

Politics has always been an ugly thing.  But up until 2016 (yes, I'm beating that dead horse again) everyone put on their company manners.  Profanity, especially words that get bleeped on TV, would be career suicide.  But now... slogans like FDT and FJB are shouted in the streets.  

I don't want a POTUS who looks like he just mowed the lawn, but I'd prefer that to one who acts and sounds like a frat boy.  Or something worse.  

Another Gladys Box (Part Two)

 

Remember this?  I finally got it sorted through and put away.  It was quite a job.

I found a huge bin for Family Archives, to replace the little one I could no longer fit them into.

Which led to a storage dilemma.  It was simply too big for any of my hidey-holes and I don't want to have to go down to my storage for archives.  

So I started playing bin roulette.  

The one on the floor I bought for Lego blocks, intending to slide it under my loveseat.  It was too tall.

The quilting supplies on the loveseat went to their intended recipient, but I kept the bin.

The green lid is what I was keeping the archives in, Barbie bin held my Lego blocks until it overflowed, and I don't remember were the purple-latch one came from.  

(The little one with the purple lid and checkerboard tin are for gift wrapping.)

The Lego got divided into Barbie and Purple Latch.  For now, anyway.  More on that in a bit.

The two flat bins hold the archives now.  Photos in the smaller, other stuff in the larger. They fit under the bed, where it simply did not occur to me to put Lego.  

This lady remains unidentified.  I still feel very strongly that she's close kin to those surrounding her.

The tinted tots did turn out to be the same kids as in the black-and-white.  Arthur and Marian Parker, my uncle and my mother. 

The storage where I keep holiday decorations is big enough to hold the new huge bin!  Halloween abandoned its red bin for that one.  I think I'll dump all the Lego blocks into the red one, which will fit into a hidey-hole.  Barely. 

Another Gladys Box (Part One)

 These pictures are all kinds of out of order.  Bear with me.  

Second Sister discovered a box of things we believed to have been passed down from our Great-aunt Gladys, socked away in her closet since before I was appointed Family Archivist.  She promptly contacted me and Eldest Sister so we could see what kind of treasure we had.

I kept this felt bookmark-thing because it has my name on it. 

Turns out this Bible belonged originally to our great-grandmother Maggie!  

We figure it went to Gladys at Maggie's death, then possibly to our grandmother (Gladys's sister-in-law) and then to the granddaughter most known for photo albums and keepsakes.

There were two other Bibles, both in better condition than this.  No identification of ownership on them and they've been adopted by The Boy.

The Bible was crammed with newspaper clippings.  Most of the dates were in the 1920s.  A relative few could be connected to my tree, which were taped into the Family Tree Binder.  That gallon baggie up top holds the rest. 

The Bible in question and a few larger, flat keepsakes.

The box after the Bible-in-a-bag was removed.   

Ignore the messy apartment. 

One of the keepsakes.  James Cox ran for President in 1920, with FDR as a running mate!

Photo compare for possible identification.  

The larger ones were in the box, the smaller ones are known to be Arthur and Marian Parker.  

Another comparison for hopeful identification.  The center lady gave us Purkiser vibes, so here she is with some possible kin or even herself.  The known elements are Maggie Purkiser Parker (original owner of the Bible and our great-grandmother), Dora/Anna  Hayes Purkiser (Maggie's mother), and Lida/Lydia Purkiser (Maggie's sister).

One of the few identified photos in the box.  Maggie Purkiser.

Notice the different handwriting as the Bible changed hands.

The Dora on these pages is not Maggie's mother, but her stepdaughter.

*****

More to come... 

Thoughts on July Fourth

 Today is one of my favorite holidays, because it's about the ideals this country was founded on.  Not the nation as it is, fallen short of those ideals, but the nation as it could and should be.  The Great American Melting Pot.  The American Dream.  Also, we get to pig out and blow things up. 

I've got friends and family all over the political and religious spectrums.  Among us, Republicans sit down with Democrats and Independents and even those who choose not to vote at all.  The religious grab a drink for the atheist.  We focus on what we have in common instead of the differences.  Which is exactly what one of the aforementioned ideals is.  

I could go on and on about how Americans have failed The Founders, but not today.  Today is about what we can be if we chose to be.  Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.   E Pluribus Unum.  We The People.  All that jazz. 

Let's not dwell on negativity.  It's on us to protect and nurture that more perfect union that The Founders and countless others since have fought and even died for.  A place where people of diverse cultures can break bread and laugh together. Have your junk food and your boom-booms.  Embrace (literally or otherwise) someone the nay-sayers call your enemy.  

America's turned out to be more a stew than a melt, but when was the last time you saw a potato duking it out with a carrot?  Or even a hunk of meat?  Hmmm.... maybe we're a Mixing Pot instead of a Melting Pot?  

Anyway....  Enjoy the holiday.  I intend to. 

 

DNA

 My brother took an Ancestry DNA test.  The results are....  interesting.  

Our paternal grandparents were barely removed from the Old Country  (Germany in his case, Ireland in hers).  The majority of my brother's DNA is "Northern Europe".  "Germanic Europe" was a single digit percentage.  Knowing what I do about both DNA and history, I figure our Germans descended from invaders. Celts or Vikings are my best guess.  

Our maternal ancestors have been in this country much longer, so there's lots of cross-pollination potential.  The lines I've traced across the sea almost always go to Germany or Ireland, but so many generations in the Great American Melting Pot make them unpredictable.  

The Parkers having native heritage is one bit of family lore I've yet to prove or disprove, but anyone who has seen my mother or her father sees it.  I hoped my brother's results would help with that, but nothing has come of it so far.  

The way DNA mixes and sometimes gets lost in the shuffle, one of my other siblings could be bearing the genes we expected.  I'm just annoyed he didn't immediately match some Parker relative who knows all about *Great-grandpa the Indian Princess*!  

So far, I've had about a 50% success in proving family lore.  Some are disproven, some are proven, most are half-truths, and one or two linger in Limbo.  But a lot of my Parker lines stop at paywalls or simply peter out.  A lot of natives passed as something else to avoid The Removal.  A lot of births, adoptions, and marriages went undocumented.  

Maybe it's an amazing coincidence that everyone who looks at a picture of my mother asks if she was American Indian.  Scientists use physical traits to identify the racial identity of a skeleton, and most of us have some of those traits.  Logically, it doesn't fit to think my ancestors were lying or mistaken.  

This mystery ancestor is so far back the line, there's no way we qualify for any tribal membership.  Ultimately, it really doesn't matter to the big picture.  I just hate unanswered questions.  It doesn't matter if that one fellow died in a logging accident, either, but I want to know!  

Everything I find about how to research this tells me to start with the tribe.  One of my siblings believes we come from Miami stock, another Shawnee.  Both are indigenous to my area.  Both make sense.  My mother even went to far as to investigate a link to Quanah Parker of the Comanches.  Some of these Parker lines came from Virginia - maybe I'm one of the bazillion descendants of Pocahontas.   

It's quite maddening.  Like a Rubik's Cube.  

*Stole that bit from a book called How To Talk Trash in Cherokee.

Small Town

Jason Aldean may not be the brightest bulb in the chandelier, but I don't believe he's advocating lynch mobs.  I'll clarify. 

First:  Pairing footage from a BLM protest gone bad with those lyrics?  Incredibly ignorant move.  Small towns, particularly in the south, have historically dealt with black "troublemakers" by way of a noose.  Jason Aldean may not have made that connection because he isn't and never was black.  He didn't grow up being warned about Sundown Towns or Emmet Till.  But ignorance is not malice, people.  

Second: Jason, dear, they do have a point.  A simple "Oh crap I didn't realize" could have gone a long way to defuse the situation.  There should be no shame in admitting your ignorance or your error.  I've said and done a lot of things from in my straight white ignorance - and usually been forgiven when I admitted it.  

Third: It's more reasonable to believe the entire thing is a publicity stunt.  The song has been out for a while, but few seemed to notice until the video was released. Jason Aldean just happens to be opening a bar/restaurant the same summer.  I'm more inclined to think he's greedy than ignorant or racist.  

Fourth: Jason Aldean is a city boy.  He's got no idea about small towns, especially the ones with a church on every corner.  The list of people who died because they tried something in a small town is growing every day.  There is a tragic drive in small towns to conform.  Especially in towns with strong political or religious leanings.  That's what killed Brandon Teena and Matthew Shepard.  That's what got the West Memphis Three convicted of murder. 

Remembering Our Dead

Graveyards have good associations for me: Visiting the graves of her husband and son with my beloved grandmother, sledding at the rear of the Settler's Cemetery.  I found them tangible history, a solid reminder that those things happened to real people.  They're an excellent place to go if you just want to be alone and think - most people who see you will assume you are mourning and respect that.  

The family plot has gotten crowded in the years since I visited with Mamma.  In the intervening years, she was interred there.  Others were.  I used to think there was something wrong with me because, when I go there, the only memories that return to me are of Mamma.  Looking at Mother's headstone, for example, might bring back memories of the funeral.  No rich, full memories.  The family plot is a Mamma place and it doesn't matter who is buried there.

I find the memories come to me more in daily life.  A patch of daisies or a song on the radio evokes them more than a slab of marble with a name engraved.  I once wept in the grocery store over a display of Kit-Kat bars, for a man whose grave I've never even seen.  But in the graveyard? Not so much. 

Years ago, I made the decision to donate my body to science.  Explaining to one of my minions that this decision meant I'd likely have no grave, at least not one chosen by the family, she asked where she was supposed to go to remember me.  I gave her examples, but I know that when the time comes, she won't have to make any effort to remember me.  

She'll be weeping in the Barbie aisle over a woman whose grave she's never seen.  Because graves are for formal occasions and remembering our dead, really remembering them, is informal.  

Costumes

 Lots of fuss this time of year, every year, about insensitive costumes and stereotypes.  I don't really take offense at stereotyped costuming because I understand that it's all in fun and no one with more than 5 brain cells believes them.  However,  I thought I'd toss out a few work-arounds just in case.  

The witch, for example, goes back to earth religions (most obviously Wicca) and therefore could be seen as insensitive to modern adherents of those faiths.  If you want to be a witch for Halloween, yet still be thoughtful of your witchy friends and neighbors, consider choosing a specific witch from pop culture.  Wicked Witch of the West and Witchypoo even have the whole pointy-hat thing going on.  Variations could be a more colorful or modern take like one of the Halliwell sisters or a Hogwarts professor.   Mix up the tropes - maybe the Neutral Witch of the South? 

The cultures native to North America seem to take a beating every fall.  Often costumes include things that, in the real world, are sacred.  Those beautiful feathered headdresses are earned, usually through combat or wise leadership.  Would it be acceptable for me to wear a Medal of Honor as part of a costume?  If you go the buckskin-and-braids route, you're playing with the stereotype.  You can mix it up there - be a "mountain man" or even a "caveman".   Or go specific again.  Little Suzie wants to be an "Indian Princess" for Halloween, go Disney.  Pocahontas in reality had very little in common with the cartoon, and you can make that a teaching moment if you want.  For a real teaching moment, get historical.  Buckskin-and-braids-and baby = Sacagawea. 

The classic hobo, a staple of poor kids and dummies who wait til the last minute, is said to mock the homeless. You can easily turn the hobo into a scarecrow if that concerns you.  

I see stereotyped ethnicities trick-or-treating every year.  I have family and friends who I could claim these people are mocking.  I see it as playful teasing among friends.  I'm a hillbilly/redneck, a mental patient, a single woman over 40, and probably other "costumes" that I can't think of at the moment.  

Some costumes are more problematic than others, obviously.  Usually based on a negative stereotype.  Usually worn by the politically polarized or satirists.  Sometimes just heart breaking (Anne Frank).  Those I advise against across the board.  But let's be honest - almost every costume out there might be offensive to someone.  I suggest we all, on both sides of the issue, be more sensitive to others.  

Sex, Gender, and Shut Up

 Had two different conversations recently that bear on the sex/gender issue.  Now, to review - when I say sex I mean biology or the reproductive act.  When I say gender, I refer to society's notions of how we should look or behave because of our biology.  I'm also going to touch on sexuality, but just a bit. 

The first conversation was with a male teenager.  He's slender and has shoulder-length hair.  Someone tried to shame him by telling him he looks "like a girl from the back".  I say tried to, because the young man really doesn't care!  The incident actually bothers me more than it did him.  Why does it matter to anyone if he looks "like a girl from the back"?  Why would anyone be ashamed of this, as he was expected to be?   The only explanation I can come up with is Toxic Masculinity - one of the media's current hobbyhorses. Long hair on a boy threatened this person's personal image of himself.  Something the media likes to ignore, though, is that Toxic Femininity is also a thing.  So is Toxic Maturity, but I digress.  

Humans of both sexes are from birth (and even before that with ultrasounds) to conform to Gender Roles.  If we don't, we are generally mocked if not outright shunned.  Especially males.  A female child can be a tomboy, after all.  But for purposes of this particular rant, I'm going to be discussing adults or those approaching adulthood.  

My mother used to tell stories beginning with "When I was a little boy..."  not because she was actually male, but because she was commiserating with a male child.  She wanted to get that pesky division out of the way, because the story related to children of both sexes.  She was a female - but never a GIRL.  I have childhood photos of her, and she's wearing a dress (it was the 1940s) but that's where it ended. I probably have peers who thought she was a lesbian.  Yo momma wears combat boots wasn't playing the dozens for me, it was just the truth.  I have no memory of her ever wearing a dress.  A child walked up to her in a store and said "Excuse me, sir..."  She thought that was funny. 

Imagine catcalling a hot chick in an amusement park and my brother, with a full beard and mustache, answers you.  Again, it was funny.  If he reads this, he will laugh heartily at the memory.  The only gender roles we were expected to follow applied to chores, and I strongly suspect that was a holdover from when my parents were married.  

I tell these two stories to show that I've always had a very clear division in my head between Sex and Gender.  And you thought I was digressing again, didn't you?  

The second conversation was with a gay male couple.  These men have two children.  The children have lots of female role models despite the fact that they don't have a mommy.  Even if they didn't, I think they'll grow up just fine.  What is a woman going to teach them that a man or a book can't?

Anyone out there who thinks a parent's genitalia keeps them from parenting, shut up.  My momma wore combat boots and that was not one of the things she got wrong, so shut up.  If you cat-called some hippie dude and are now having an existential crisis, that's your problem, so shut up.  Unless people are hurting somebody, just shut up.  

As always, I invite civil debate of these points.  If you just wanna call names and insult people, shut up. 

Who Are We To Judge?

Humans judge.  It's just something we do, and I accept that fact.  Maybe it's even part of our evolved instincts.  I'm not up on my soap box today about normal day-to-day judging.  I'm here to clarify a few things about The Pearly Gates.  

Prince Phillip died the same day as rapper DMX.  Actress Kerry Washington said something on her social media about the two of them meeting at the Pearly Gates and caught (no pun intended) Holy Hell for it.  Apparently, Phillip would not be there because he was a racist.  DMX would be there because he was a Good Christian.  

RANT 1: 

Even when I was a Good Little Christian Girl, I did not believe it was my place to decide who was and wasn't going to Heaven.  I believed that was God's job.  I believed that if you sinned, it was between you and God to sort out.  So... a mighty presumption on the part of all these people.   

DMX had more than a dozen children, only four of which were born to his wife.  That makes him a fornicator and possibly an adulterer.  Adultery is one of the Top Ten Sins.  Fornication is mentioned often in The Bible as a sin.  We could also talk about his addiction issues vs that whole body-as-a-temple thing, but I'm not going to attack a fellow mental health patient.  

Phillip was a racist, at least by modern standards.  There's no denying that. Many Biblical passages have been interpreted to support the notion of racism.  The first that comes to mind is the Curse Of Ham.  Many sects of Christianity used Ham's Curse to justify slavery and opposition to racial intermarriage.  By that thinking, Phillip's bigger sin would have been welcoming his grandson's mixed-race bride into the family (as she has gone on record he did). 

But as I said, that's between them and God.  Not my call. 

RANT TWO:

The Pearly Gates are often seen in popular culture as a death metaphor.  One of my favorite comics is three clerics, one from each major world religion, standing before a pagan goddess at the Pearly Gates.  It makes me giggle every time. 

Popular culture tells us that the dead stand before St Peter (not God) at the Pearly Gates.  It makes sense that Phillip and DMX would meet there.  Them meeting there just means they died about the same time.  It doesn't mean that either one is going to get wings. Peter still has to check the list, like a bouncer at an exclusive nightclub.  Peter.  Not you, not me, not even God. 

RANT THREE:  

Both these men had faults.  They were human beings, after all.  Both these men leave families who should be allowed to grieve without the entire world sitting in judgement.  

Gender Reveals

Another wild fire started by another gender reveal party has opened up the whole can of gender worms.  Not that it was ever really closed.  And no one seems to be focusing on the real issue.  So I'm dusting off the ole soap box. 

1. Any celebration can lead to injury or even disaster if the celebrants are careless. I'm sure people have been injured and even killed at birthday parties or holiday celebrations, but try telling people to ban those and see how far it gets you. Letting unqualified people handle (or build) pyrotechnics for any reason is downright foolish, and that's what causes things like wild fires and homemade pipe bombs.  

2. Social Media is no more to blame for people showing off than a skateboard or a sports car.  The people who are impressed by whatever the stunt might be are not to blame.  The person showing off chose to do it, and are therefore responsible for any damage done.   It's no different than "Billy dared me." 

3. Yes, people do care what sex someone's baby is.  Family and friends do, and for celebrities of all stripes, the fans do.  For one thing, knowing that fact makes gift shopping much easier.  If you want to complain about people being gendered before birth, refer to my next point.

4. "Gender" has also become the polite term for the biological fact, which is why Sex Reveal Parties aren't causing wild fires, and that does confuse the issue.  If I announce the child in my womb has a penis and testicles, all that means is that his biological sex is male.  Stating a biological fact is not gendering.  Dividing toy departments by the sex of the child is gendering.  Telling a male child he can't wear pink is gendering. 

5. Often the decor is quite gendered at these parties. (Imagine what these parties would look like if decor stuck to biology!)   Cakes say things like "Tiaras or trucks" and "Glitter or guns".  Pink and blue everything is everywhere.  Parents who take those stereotypes to heart are going to have more impact on the child than a party that happens before birth. Parents who are having fun with it, just for the day?  Not so much. 

6.  No one is hurting you by having, or not having, a party to announce the sex of their child.  At least not if they do it responsibly. If you feel these parties are morally wrong, don't attend.  I don't go to drunken orgies for just that reason. 

Back to the original point. People are losing their homes and lives while we bicker over sex and gendering.  If you must be negative, blame the careless, not the thing they were celebrating.

Doing Christmas Right

Every year at this time, I see a lot of debate about the correct way to do the holiday season.  Since I do Christmas, that's the one I have the most knowledge and experience with, but I believe a lot of these thoughts can apply to any holiday, at any time of the year.

When does the tree/decor go up?  In my little world, this is after Thanksgiving.  That weekend is full of activities with the larger family and in the spaces between them, my apartment gets decorated.  I don't get upset at others for decorating earlier or later because they aren't hurting anyone. (I do think they're silly, but silly is harmless fun.) They have their reasons, and it's none of my beeswax. 

When does the tree/decor come down?  One of my sisters is Catholic and her decor stays up until Epiphany - also known as Twelfth Night or The Twelfth Day of Christmas.  Her son takes his tree down (quite methodically, I might add) on the evening of the day itself.  The rest of the extended family does it at their leisure, me included.  My decor does stay up until after the new year begins, but beyond that, who knows? 

How much decor to use?  Some are minimalist.  Others have front lawns that rival professional displays.  Some do strict themes and others just embrace utter chaos.  Again, it's a matter of taste.  Again, it's harmless fun.  Don't stress out over what other people do.  Just have a giggle if you think they're silly, let them have a giggle at you, and move along.

What is the proper procedure for opening the gifts?  This one is a bit trickier, since so many of us do gift exchanges in the homes of others.  It boils down to one question:  Who owns/rents the home you are in?  THAT PERSON SETS THE RULES.  If in your home the proper method is utter chaos, fine.  If the gifts have to be opened alphabetically by height, fine.  But if you are at Uncle Bob's, you follow Uncle Bob's rules.  This is the exception to the taste/fun/beeswax rule. 

For my sister, Christmas is a holy day.  For me, it's a wonderful way to love and be loved.  What works for me may not work for her.  We spend the day together.  We compromise.  Because in the end, it's each other that matters.  That is doing Christmas right.

Beggars' Night Is Not Halloween

Halloween (aka All Hallows' Eve or All Saints' Eve) is celebrated on October 31.  It is the Eve of November 1, All Hallows' or All Saints' Day. This is a time in the liturgical year dedicated to remembering the dead, particularly saints and martyrs.  It is not a movable holiday.  

Christianity is not the only religion to hold the date sacred. This is not a movable holiday for the Pagans, either.  Samhain is the end of summer and the beginning of winter, a sign of death and rebirth.  As my sister is wont to say "The veil is thinning" at this time of year.  What veil?  The veil between worlds. Thus all the ghosts and things.

There is currently a movement afoot to move Halloween to, I believe, the last Saturday of October.  They want to move a religious holiday for the sake, frankly, of profit and convenience.  And they don't even know what they are talking about.  

These people are talking about Beggars' Night, not about Halloween.  Many of the trappings of a secular Halloween are tied into Celtic and Gaelic harvest festivals and Beggars' Night (aka Trick or Treat) is one of those things.  This movement is rather akin to moving Christmas to make caroling more convenient and profitable.

All the local communities in my area already move Beggars' Night to the weekend.  Trick-or-treaters can hit one town on Friday and another on Saturday.  Spend Sunday with a belly ache... but I digress.  Since I don't hold the date sacred, I move my totally secular Halloween party in the same manner.  But for those who hold the holiday sacred, those for whom it is a holy day, Halloween cannot be moved. 

Why, if we're already moving around what they think is Halloween, are they calling for a law to do so?   In this age of diversity training, is Big Candy really this ignorant of the religious meaning of October 31?   

Mermaids

Oh, dear god, y'all!  First things first, not everyone objecting to the casting of the live-action Ariel are doing it for racist reasons.  At least, not that they're aware of.  Some people just don't like change and would be complaining if ANYONE but a blue eyed ginger got the role.  (Personally, I'm just upset that Divine can't play Ursula.) Put on your thinking caps, y'all, we're going in.

POINT: In the original tale, the mermaid is described as having skin "like a rose leaf".  So she was green? The mermaid also dies at the end, so there's that....

POINT: Disney named their mermaid after a male character in Shakespeare's The Tempest.  They gave her red hair for artistic reasons - something about wanting not-a-blond and brunette being hard to animate underwater, if I recall correctly.    There's also something about her being the only redhead in her family, but I'm not sure what version of the tale this came from.  Disney changed the ending.  Ariel is not, and never was, the original.

POINT: In historical sightings - and yes, I have a book here to back me up - merfolk have been described as follows:  Roaring. Scaled even in the human section. Having green hair.  Long green hair. Having purple blood. Mossy hair. Black or tawny skin. Different colors on belly and back. Gray.

I've listed only the descriptions that differ from the European-based archetype.  One description even says they are "frequently taken for Indian women bathing" until the tail is seen. 

POINT:  We're talking about nearly universal folklore.  Cultures all over the world have mermaids, sirens, lorelei, naiads, ri...  I could go on but you get the idea.  Merfolk come in all the same colors as humans.  And a few others if you believe the reported sightings.

POINT: Ariel is a Disney character and they can change her up any way they want. 

I personally won't be seeing the live action movie.  I just don't care for live action versions of classic cartoons.  The only live action Disney remake I've seen was Beauty and the Beast.  I only watched it because I wanted to see how it was possible to make it any more obvious Lefou was in love with Gaston. 

On The Fringes

I'm going to start this blog with a little background information.  Bear with me, readers who already know this stuff.  I am a middle aged woman, never married, never had children of my own.  I come from a large family - seven siblings, all of whom have gifted me with at least one minion.  I became The Aunt.  You know, the one all families used to have: She babysat for free and caused a kid stampede every time she showed up, but she wasn't part of the nuclear family.  She lived on the fringes and was okay with it.

Several years ago, I moved in with a nephew.  The fringes I lived on got a lot shorter.  He and his wife said things like "I've got two kids.  A six year old and a forty year old."  They were in their late twenties/early thirties, so that was always good for a giggle.

Fast forward a little over a decade.  We didn't fight, not any more than any family would.  They didn't throw me out.  I didn't leave in a fit of rage.  I was simply ready to return to adulthood, which frankly had not been kind to me the first time around. 

Determining the new length of the fringes I live on, though...  WOW.  We treat it rather like I'm their grown child, gone off to college or something.  I do holidays with them.  His wife and I frequently run errands together.  I do laundry at their house and keep the boy overnight on a regular basis.

Some things have taken a little getting used to on all sides.  For most of the boy's life, it was the norm that Jeanie was going along on vacation or that he'd stay with Jeanie during one of Mom and Dad's weekend runaways. Mom "stealing Jeanie's truck" is no longer a given.  He's had to do the most adjusting, but even the extended family gets tangled in those changeable fringes.

My mental illness complicates things further.  Despite my meds and all the coping methods, that demon is still whispering constantly.  Despite the fact that my last major episode was fifteen years ago, those around me are concerned about my fragility.  I have to be very careful to make sure people know I'm okay with these changes, that I know they are healthy and sometimes even necessary.

All I can say it that it's a good thing I developed what little fashion sense I have in the early seventies.  I love fringes.  They're fun, if sometimes problematic.

Baby It's Cold Outside

People are calling for a ban of a classic song based on their own personal interpretation of the lyrics. 

"Baby, It's Cold Outside" is basically a conversation between a man and a woman, one in which she thinks she should go home and he wants her to stay.  While some of the lines can be problematic ("what's in this drink") it really does boil down to our own interpretation. 

Can it be seen as him sexually harassing her and possibly setting her up for date rape?  Yes.  Can it be seen as both of them wanting more time together and her being concerned about gossip?  Yes.  It's all a matter of interpretation, and if we see something problematic in it, why not use it as a teaching moment? 

My sister loathes "Santa Baby" because of the singer's obvious greed.  Others say it sexualizes Santa because the singer is using her feminine wiles on him.  (Santa's not allowed to be sexual?  Poor Mrs. Claus)  These people have, for decades, simply turned the station.

I hate "Blue Christmas" because, to me, it's a guilt trip.  You go on and have fun - I'll sit in the corner and eat wet cigarette butts. If you hear nothing more than "I miss you", that's fine.  That's probably the actual intent of the song.  But what I hear is what I hear. So I just turn the station.

Does "Rudolph The Red-Nose Reindeer" imply bullying is okay?  Does "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" support the Patriot Act?  "12 Days of Christmas" has human beings as gifts - slavery, anyone?  Should anything be banned because of what you or I read into it? 

It's not like any of these songs are coming right out and saying these things.  We're reading into them, as human beings do, and even if they did...  this is called a teaching moment. 

Elizabeth Warren's DNA

I'm going start off with this:  Any comments about Warren's politics will be deleted.  

Elizabeth Warren has, for years, claimed to be an American Indian.  I have no doubt she believed it to be true and now DNA testing has validated the claim - to a point.  I doubt she can meet the blood quantum of any recognized tribe.  My point here is that Elizabeth Warren is not alone.  There are probably more of us claiming "great-grandpa was an Indian princess" than there are doing the opposite. (That line in quotes?  I totally stole it from a book called How To Talk Trash In Cherokee.)

Like Elizabeth Warren, I've grown up with stories of American Indian ancestry.  I've never claimed to be anything but the white girl I am, because I've got no documentation and because it's so far back I've probably got like one chromosome.  Most of the tales agree it came down the Parker line, and photographs of my mother and her father enforce that theory.

All the documentation I've found on my genealogy, however, lists the race as white.  This isn't proof that we're "lying" about the DNA being there.  Many American Indians chose to pass as other races, largely to avoid things like The Trail Of Tears.  Some claimed to be black, which speaks volumes about how they were treated... they'd prefer to be seen as black even before the Civil War!  I suspect something like this happened in my family.

Why do I insist on still believing it?  Because there is other evidence.  Physical Anthropology recognizes three skeletal types - one of which is Asian/American Indian.  Some of the physical markers?  High arches in the foot -- My mother had trouble finding shoes that fit comfortably. (Not that she wore them often, but I digress.)  Winged incisors and shovel-shaped teeth. High cheekbones, of course.  Shape of the eye socket.

With the skin on, of course, you also get the skin color.  All of these things are present in my documented-white family, varying in degree by individual.  Other physical indicators I've heard, but honestly have not deeply researched:  second toe being longer and slightly separated from the big toe.  Tendency toward diabetes and thyroid issues. All present in my family.

A note about DNA tests:  DNA can "fall away".  If Elizabeth Warren's test had not shown her native ancestor, it's possible he might still exist, especially considering the number of ensuing generations.  There is also the possibility that said ancestor was adopted into the tribe and therefore not genetically a part of said tribe.

When all the fuss started about Elizabeth Warren lying about her heritage, I was insulted.  She believed it to be true.  Just like me. If the university in question took her at her word, not requiring documentation, that's hardly her fault.  To say she lied is to say every one of us seeking our own hiding ancestry is a liar. 

Regifting

I have a niece who, for reasons beyond the control of either of us, I did not know very well.  I bought her gifts using her age and sex as a guideline. So, Barbies.  Eventually, I learned that she just wasn't a Barbie girl.  Simple communication could have prevented the whole situation, but that's beside my point.  She got unwanted and unneeded gifts.  What should she have done with them?    Kept them forever?  Threw them at me?

Regift like you have some sense, of course.  Don't open it and blurt out "I don't want this."  Don't turn around and hand it to Aunt Martha right in front of the giver.  But by all means, if I give you something you can't or won't use, pass it on.  Thank me for the thought, take it home (or wait til I leave) and wrap it up pretty to give Aunt Martha at her birthday.  Donate it to the charity of your choice,even.

The best course of action is to know what the receiver wants, of course.  I love the idea of registering for gifts when you marry or have a baby.  Kids write letters to Santa.  If you're close enough to them, you don't even need a list.  Items will jump off the shelves and scream their names at you.

Anyway, I have no problem with and even encourage regifting done well.  I'd much rather see Aunt Martha with it, if she'd love it and you don't.  If I get rich, I promise not to cut you out of my will for it.  Unless you did throw it at me.

Appropriation or Appreciation?

We hear so much about Cultural Appropriation like it's a bad thing.  Appropriate can mean steal or usurp, but it can also mean borrow or adopt.  Borrowing and adopting come from appreciation.  The Great American Melting Pot is and was all about appropriation - we borrow ideas from one another. The whites came here from Europe and took some ideas from the folks that already lived here.  Those folks took some ideas from the Europeans.  Corn for metal tools, maybe, or booze for tobacco. Italian immigrants traded recipes with their German neighbors.  

My own lineage is mostly German and Irish.  I have a friend who is Sioux.  Are we not allowed to celebrate Christmas because it's largely based on Mediterranean traditions?  Of course we can - we appropriated it because we appreciated it.  The Mother Earth/Father Sky motif reflects my beliefs much more accurately than anything else.  Ethnic foods are just plain yummy.  I am not victimizing anyone by braiding my hair.  No one is being hurt because my names are (in order of appearance) Latin, French, and German.  

That's not to say it's never a problem.  Plagiarism is a form of appropriation and the only people that approve of it are the plagiarists.  Eminent Domain is appropriation, but every time a government uses it, there is an outcry.  But it's hardly the problem it's made out to be.

A white dude that wears dreadlocks is not appropriating black culture.  Many European cultures (and some native to the Americas) wore similar styles or maybe he just appreciates the look.  There are legitimate reasons why a non-Asian might wear a kimono.  

Most Americans, regardless of race or religion, start the day with a cup of coffee.  Coffee was invented by Arabs and adopted by Europeans.  Sometimes they have grits, made from corn and borrowed from the natives of North America, for breakfast.  If they eat spaghetti or pizza, they're appreciating Italian food.  Maybe they have popcorn in the evening (see previous mentions of corn) for a snack.  

Think for a moment of all the things you enjoy that came from a different place than your DNA. Those things were all appropriated, borrowed, adopted...  because they were appreciated.  Some of the things others enjoy were benignly filched from your ancestors.  And that's okay.  No harm, no foul.  Usually.  

Nothing New

I don't remember how the conversation started, as it is with conversations, but my nephew and I were talking about how people like to label something a rip-off.  The example he used was within the sci-fi genre, specifically Star Trek's phasers and Star Wars' blasters, but then he moved on to another genre - the romance novel.  They all seem to start with the main characters hating each other but then they fall in love.  My response: "The Walking Dead totally ripped that off."

That was about the entire exchange, but it got me thinking.  Don't most iconic relationships, in any genre, follow that pattern?  Not just romances - buddy films come to mind.  The relationship in which you meet, are compatible, and remain friends just isn't compelling storytelling.  Even Han Solo and Chewbacca are more entertaining when bickering.

People who do what Josh and I were talking about don't understand a few things.  "Ray guns" are a staple of science fiction.  Sharing a staple with something else in the same genre is not ripping it off.  Using a tried-and-true storytelling technique is not a rip-off of anything that's used it before.  

If I were to write the story of an ordinary young man who finds himself swept into an epic adventure, I would not be ripping off Star Wars.  Or The Legend of Zelda.   It's a classic story called The Hero's Journey.  

There is nothing new under the sun, as the saying goes.  Everything is derivative of something that's gone before.  So what makes a rip-off?  That's a difficult thing to explain - ask any judge asked to decide a plagiarism case. As another saying (sort of) goes, I may not know what a rip-off is, but I know what it ain't.