Dear Mr. President,
I've never read Truman Capote's A Christmas Memory. I'm not sure if this would earn me quite the same horrified look as referring to a picture of what was apparently the terminator as "some scary robot", but I'm sure it's some level of cultural failing. Tonight I went to listen as my very talented coworker read the story aloud at our bookstore. It was one of those perspective-changing experiences that reminds me how very not alone I am, no matter how often I'm convinced otherwise. Sitting in a small crowd that all laughed and cried at the same time, a group of people so different and yet so similarly moved, was exactly what I needed tonight. Maybe it's just the stress of finals week or the cold weather or the fact that every politician in the country (including you) seems to have gone Republican since November.
If you're not familiar with Capote's story, it describes the friendship between a young Capote and his much older relative, their adventures baking fruit cakes for beloved strangers and generally being misunderstood by the other members of their household. It's funny and sad and (having nothing else to compare it to, I can only assume) best when read by some one capable of doing all the character voices. Perhaps this, the Christmas tree on the Space Needle, and my roommate deciding to put the Christmas lights up in our apartment are nothing more than a happy confluence of holiday cheer, but the last few days have me actually looking forward to the holidays in a way I usually don't. The story made me remember my grandmother and appreciate both my strange family and my family of strangers. It made me miss my best friend more than ever. I think there's a reason why the joy of the holidays is so closely linked to lonely, nostalgic feelings. As we give ourselves time to feel the love we have for the people in our lives it's impossible not to also feel the loss of those loved ones who, for whatever reason, aren't with us.
I think this is why I don't want to talk about the tax cut deal you're making with Republicans. I know that not wanting to talk about it doesn't make it any less real (or any less of a terrible idea) but I just don't have the heart to criticize you for bad economics, bad politics and bad foreign policy every single day. As stressed out as I've been, I'm sure it's much worse for you. So I'm just going to enjoy my newfound (and likely short-lived) Christmas spirit, which is somehow both happily warm and terribly sad, and save criticizing you for tomorrow. Merry Christmas.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Showing posts with label Chev. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chev. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Day 329- Thankful
Kelsey --
When Michelle and I sit down with our family to give thanks today, I want you to know that we'll be especially grateful for folks like you.
Everything we have been able to accomplish in the last two years was possible because you have been willing to work for it and organize for it.
And every time we face a setback, or when progress doesn't happen as quickly as we would like, we know that you'll be right there with us, ready to fight another day.
So I want to thank you -- for everything.
I also hope you'll join me in taking a moment to remember that the freedoms and security we enjoy as Americans are protected by the brave men and women of the United States Armed Forces. These patriots are willing to lay down their lives in our defense, and each of us owes them and their families a debt of gratitude.
Have a wonderful day, and God bless.
Barack
Dear Mr. President,
Happy Thanksgiving. The e-mail you sent out to all of your supporters this morning made me think about the people in my life that I'm grateful for. Today seems like as good a day as any to thank them all.
I'm thankful for my family, who I don't see often enough. They are all wonderful and supportive and are doing/have done amazing things with their lives. They were my first and most important teachers and I love them.
I'm thankful for my friends, who are a part of my family. For my new coworkers, who, in making me love them, have made me love my new job. They are wonderful and unimaginably talented and so very welcoming. My friends around the world, especially those working with Peace Corps or the API and other volunteer projects, I appreciate them for spending thanksgiving away from home in the service of a better world. For all of my lovely, diverse, amazing friends in Seattle and around the country, who make my life so much better just by being in it (and who read these letters more than you do, Mr. President,) I am grateful. I am especially grateful for my roommates, my three adopted sisters who take great care of me and who prove that families come in many forms.
I'm thankful for all of my teachers and professors, the uncompromising courage of those academics who have inspired, encouraged and pushed me to be a better and more intellectually curious individual. From the elementary school classrooms of RuthAnn Wilson to the university lectures of Isam Ali, Keith Feldman, William Smaldone, and many, many others along the way I have become the person I am, have been shaped most significantly because of their guidance.
I'm thankful for those activists who are putting their lives and their safety and their freedom on the line to stand up for what is right. Marcy Newman, Diane Gee, George Rishmawi, every one at the US Boat to Gaza and so many others around the world who are fighting injustice at immense personal risk and cost. Too many of us are content to sit at home and hide behind our computer screens and blog angrily about injustice, while few among us have the courage to do whatever it takes to stop it.
I am thankful for those in the GLBTQ community, friends and strangers, who continue to struggle for basic rights to marry and to serve our country openly. I believe that one day our country will do the right thing by these men and women, but until then, I am grateful that they have not lost hope (or just moved to Canada.) Our country is better for our GLBTQ citizens and ought to do better by them.
I am thankful to live in such a great city, in a beautiful part of the country, full of artistic, adventurous, political people (who can't drive in the snow.)
I am thankful to live in a country where the kind of criticism I make of it every day don't land me in prison (or, at least, haven't yet.) Where I may speak out about the things we do wrong in hopes of making it a better, more just, place for every one. I am thankful to live in a country that can change, even if it it changes too slowly. I'm thankful to really every one who works for our country, for the military, the government, law enforcement and fire fighters and every one who tries to make this country a safer place.
I'm thankful for the Native Americans, who are too often forgotten on this day. Our country came about at their expense, at the cost of so many of their lives, and still they work to preserve the cultures, languages and traditions that many have tried so hard to wipe out. I'm grateful that they have not lost all hope in the face of overwhelming odds, and I am sorry that so many have forgotten.
I am thankful to you, Mr. President, and so glad that you beat John McCain. I'm thankful for the health care bill, for student loan reform, and other legislation you've passed, thankful for the political battles you've won and for those you lost (if not for those you gave up on without a fight.) I'm thankful that you haven't stopped trying, that you haven't lost faith, and that you continue to try to be a better President. I'm thankful that we elected you and I'm thankful that you serve our country even in these challenging times.
Thank you. (And thanks, all.)
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Friday, September 17, 2010
Day 260- SMART Grants, napkins and sea shores
Dear Mr. President,
Today has been a great day. First, I'd like to thank you for a bit of good news I received today. Instead of taking out the small subsidized loan I'd been offered this year, I've just been awarded a National SMART grant. This is incredibly reassuring. The loan I was planning to take out this year wasn't huge compared to my total debt, but I'm still happy to avoid borrowing at all. I know I am incredibly lucky to be given this grant, especially when so many other students in my situation are seeing their debt levels continue to rise dramatically. I'm so grateful for the help.
Also today, I received a letter from my friend serving in the Peace Corps. I miss hearing her voice and seeing her every day. I miss our pancake mondays, our walks around greenlake and our heated political discussions that usually devolved into a general discussion about how much we want to marry Jon Stewart. I love reading her letters and hearing the details of her life in Burkina Faso, but I think part of her letter to me was actually meant for you:
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It says: "I stole you a napkin from the embassy =) There is a sweet picture of Obama hanging in the embassy. It makes me so happy to see it. I'm still proud he's our president."
I don't think I could say it any better.
The last thing that made today great was this story a friend sent me on facebook about Israeli women helping Palestinian women sneak across the border for illegal day trips to the beach. A quote from one of the brave Israeli women interviewed struck me as particularly moving. "We want more Israelis to realise that there is nothing to be scared of. We want more people to refuse to accept the ideology that keeps us apart – and to just refuse to be enemies."
There is nothing to be scared of. I refuse to accept divisive ideology. I refuse to be enemies.
These are powerful, wise words. And the simple act of taking these Palestinian women and their children to see the ocean shows how ordinary citizens can fight injustice through simple acts of kindness. I think maybe these women should replace Netanyahu and Abbas for the peace talks. Something tells me they'd make a lot more progress.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Today has been a great day. First, I'd like to thank you for a bit of good news I received today. Instead of taking out the small subsidized loan I'd been offered this year, I've just been awarded a National SMART grant. This is incredibly reassuring. The loan I was planning to take out this year wasn't huge compared to my total debt, but I'm still happy to avoid borrowing at all. I know I am incredibly lucky to be given this grant, especially when so many other students in my situation are seeing their debt levels continue to rise dramatically. I'm so grateful for the help.
Also today, I received a letter from my friend serving in the Peace Corps. I miss hearing her voice and seeing her every day. I miss our pancake mondays, our walks around greenlake and our heated political discussions that usually devolved into a general discussion about how much we want to marry Jon Stewart. I love reading her letters and hearing the details of her life in Burkina Faso, but I think part of her letter to me was actually meant for you:
.jpg)
It says: "I stole you a napkin from the embassy =) There is a sweet picture of Obama hanging in the embassy. It makes me so happy to see it. I'm still proud he's our president."
I don't think I could say it any better.
The last thing that made today great was this story a friend sent me on facebook about Israeli women helping Palestinian women sneak across the border for illegal day trips to the beach. A quote from one of the brave Israeli women interviewed struck me as particularly moving. "We want more Israelis to realise that there is nothing to be scared of. We want more people to refuse to accept the ideology that keeps us apart – and to just refuse to be enemies."
There is nothing to be scared of. I refuse to accept divisive ideology. I refuse to be enemies.
These are powerful, wise words. And the simple act of taking these Palestinian women and their children to see the ocean shows how ordinary citizens can fight injustice through simple acts of kindness. I think maybe these women should replace Netanyahu and Abbas for the peace talks. Something tells me they'd make a lot more progress.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Day 248- 10.2.2010
Dear Mr. President,
We on the left aren't usually content to be outdone by Glenn Beck, especially now that he fancies himself a Televangelist. So progressives are having their own march on Washington. I hope that the One Nation march manages to generate the excitement many progressives will need to show up on election day. It isn't an enthusiastic or well-organized Republican base that worries me, it is the return to apathy that many on the left had been quick to make once holding your administration to its promises got hard. Will a unity rally in DC make it all better? I suppose it probably can't make things worse.
But an election shouldn't have to have the hype of a music festival to get people to turn up for it. Voting should be something every American does out of a sense of their own responsibility to participate in our democracy. I suppose this is why I get so irritated at the patronizing OFA e-mails asking me to pledge that I will vote. I vote because it is in my interest to do so and I don't need a flashy patronizing campaign to convince me to do it. I have many friends who feel differently. Several didn't vote in 2008 and, when I reacted to this information with my characteristic tactlessness, they grew quite defensive. One even tried to convince me that voting was playing into the hands of those in power. I guess OFA might have their work cut out for them.
I think if you want to turn people out on election day you've got to prove to them that their vote actually matters. No amount of youtube videos or t-shirts or clever campaign slogans will energize voters like evidence that they are actually being listend to would. Have one honest and unscripted conversation with the American people and watch how quickly they show up to tell you what they think of it. Talk to us like we're informed adults and maybe we'll start voting like it.
Tonight on CNN I saw a headline that stopped my heart for a moment. "Peace Corps Volunteer killed in Africa" it read. And for the eternity it took the full story to load and inform me the tragedy took place in Lesotho and not where my best friend is serving, I could do nothing but worry. Once it was cleared up, I got angry. Would you see a similar headline for Asia or Europe or North America? No! Had the victim died on any other continent, the headline likely would have specified a country. This may be due to the fact that CNN assumes its audience has no idea where Lesotho is. Whenever I see the media, or a campaign, dumbing things down to a level it anticipates its readers to be more comfortable with, I feel offended. Expect us to know where Lesotho is, and we will learn. Expect us to understand the complexity of your policies and we will. Expect us to vote because it is our responsibility as Americans and we will vote. Stop treating Americans like we are only as good as our worst tendencies.
I hope that the One Nation rally is a success. I hope that the midterms are somewhat less of a tragedy than expected. Most of all, I hope you find a way to speak to the American people the way you used to. It's the only way you'll ever inspire the kind of support you'll need to win re-election.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
We on the left aren't usually content to be outdone by Glenn Beck, especially now that he fancies himself a Televangelist. So progressives are having their own march on Washington. I hope that the One Nation march manages to generate the excitement many progressives will need to show up on election day. It isn't an enthusiastic or well-organized Republican base that worries me, it is the return to apathy that many on the left had been quick to make once holding your administration to its promises got hard. Will a unity rally in DC make it all better? I suppose it probably can't make things worse.
But an election shouldn't have to have the hype of a music festival to get people to turn up for it. Voting should be something every American does out of a sense of their own responsibility to participate in our democracy. I suppose this is why I get so irritated at the patronizing OFA e-mails asking me to pledge that I will vote. I vote because it is in my interest to do so and I don't need a flashy patronizing campaign to convince me to do it. I have many friends who feel differently. Several didn't vote in 2008 and, when I reacted to this information with my characteristic tactlessness, they grew quite defensive. One even tried to convince me that voting was playing into the hands of those in power. I guess OFA might have their work cut out for them.
I think if you want to turn people out on election day you've got to prove to them that their vote actually matters. No amount of youtube videos or t-shirts or clever campaign slogans will energize voters like evidence that they are actually being listend to would. Have one honest and unscripted conversation with the American people and watch how quickly they show up to tell you what they think of it. Talk to us like we're informed adults and maybe we'll start voting like it.
Tonight on CNN I saw a headline that stopped my heart for a moment. "Peace Corps Volunteer killed in Africa" it read. And for the eternity it took the full story to load and inform me the tragedy took place in Lesotho and not where my best friend is serving, I could do nothing but worry. Once it was cleared up, I got angry. Would you see a similar headline for Asia or Europe or North America? No! Had the victim died on any other continent, the headline likely would have specified a country. This may be due to the fact that CNN assumes its audience has no idea where Lesotho is. Whenever I see the media, or a campaign, dumbing things down to a level it anticipates its readers to be more comfortable with, I feel offended. Expect us to know where Lesotho is, and we will learn. Expect us to understand the complexity of your policies and we will. Expect us to vote because it is our responsibility as Americans and we will vote. Stop treating Americans like we are only as good as our worst tendencies.
I hope that the One Nation rally is a success. I hope that the midterms are somewhat less of a tragedy than expected. Most of all, I hope you find a way to speak to the American people the way you used to. It's the only way you'll ever inspire the kind of support you'll need to win re-election.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Day 245-Pumpkin chocolate-chip cookies
Dear Mr. President,
The night of the 2008 election, after my best friend shattered two glasses full of beer toasting too enthusiastically with the man who would, months later, become her boyfriend but before we joined the gleeful crowd of celebrating Seattlites in the 6-mile walk to Capitol hill, we went into a 24-hour QFC. We were there to take pictures with the arugula and to send them to every McCain supporter we knew. While there, Chev found pumpkin-chocolate chip cookies in the bakery section. To me, those cookies have tasted like election night ever since. They're only a seasonal offering at the bakery and these days they don't ever seem to be made properly, so I've developed my own recipe for whenever I need to remember that feeling.
Buying pumpkin outside of fall is an inexplicably difficult thing to do. Strawberries from New Zealand that taste like nothing can be purchased in December and yet canned pumpkin is a "seasonal" item at most grocery stores. Sometimes I really don't get our national food system. Anyway, I managed to find some and so I've been making pumpkin desserts for weeks now. I'm making them tonight, the memories they inspire lifting my spirits and making me miss my best friend more than ever. Also the fact that I can manage to smell cloves and cinnamon means my cold probably isn't going to kill me before it goes away.
I'm baking because I'm worried. Not about dying from a cold (because that would be silly, right?) but about the oil rig explosion, the poll showing that Dino Rossi has a pretty good chance at being the next Washington State junior senator, and the fragile peace talks between Abbas and Netanyahu. I'm worried and so I'm baking. I'm blending spices and chopping up chocolate and making a huge mess with my Kitchen Aid mixer. It's great. I have taken all of my anxiety over things I can't control and I'm making something that will make my writers group tonight a little sweeter. It isn't fixing anything, but sometimes keeping calm is the most I can ask of myself. My kitchen smells like election night tastes. Nothing against QFC, but I think that this version might be even better, actually. I'm not giving up on Patty Murray or on keeping the House or on keeping the White House in 2012. Winning just tastes too good.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Yes we can! Pumpkin Chocolate-Chip Cookies
Adapted from allrecipes.
Ingredients
2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1 teaspoon ground cloves
1 teaspoon ground ginger
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup butter, softened
1 cup white sugar
1/4 cup maple syrup
1 can pumpkin puree (15 oz)
1 egg
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
8-12oz chocolate chips or chopped very dark chocolate
Preheat oven to 350. Sift together flour, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, nutmeg, ground cloves, ginger and salt; set aside.
In a mixer, cream together the 1/2 cup of butter, maple syrup and sugar. Add pumpkin, egg, and 1 teaspoon vanilla to butter mixture, and beat until creamy. Mix in dry ingredients and then add chocolate.
Bake for 15 to 20 minutes.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Day 208- Home is other people
Dear Mr. President,
I was riding the bus back to Seattle from my hometown today, the air conditioning turned up so high that I had goosebumps, and I realized I'd been holding my breath. Arlington is a complicated place, or, I suppose, Arlington and I have a complicated relationship. I went to high school there, and the family that I knew there, the people who became my brothers and sisters, we all wanted to get out. We went away for college. We moved, and traveled and generally scattered. Arlington may not be my home, but this group of friends always will be. They still make me feel young, even as the remind me how responsible we've become. They inspire me with the choices they make, the lives they choose, the things they accomplish. They are not the type to overlook a person's flaws, and yet, they forgive me for being me. They are my feeling of home, wherever they might be.
The face of the town has changed a lot since I lived there. I still see the faded logos of local businesses that have been around since I was a kid, but now they're ducking behind towering Best Buys and Costcos and the roads are new and wide and dark. I feel so foreign in this town, these days. I can imagine what my life would be like still living there, needing a car, having wilderness and wildlife nearby, running in to old faces from high school at the grocery store. I just don't know when my life changed so drastically to make me so out of place here.
By the time I forced myself to take one deep, trembling inhalation I was well on my way back to the city. And the rest of the trip, I-5 rolled by, anonymous, while I relived days at my first job, school dances, fights with my parents, poker games played late into the night around a kitchen table. I thought of the boys who are still my brothers, how they are men now, how they will one day be husbands and fathers and professors and writers and engineers. How I will one day be, whatever it is I'm going to be. Are we becoming what we are because we left or because of where we came from? I had begun to doubt that I would ever feel as strongly about a place as I used to feel about Arlington, when my bus finally stopped in Seattle. I remembered why I love it, why the strangers that live here feel like home to me, almost in the same way my childhood friends do. I believe they will, for the most part, forgive me, too.
For now I am going to make dinner for every one and enjoy the feeling of having so many people I love so close. It won't be like that forever. A big part of home is over in Africa, and I'm going to have to go find her, before long. I wonder, does the White House feel like home? Or is it more like living in a museum? Is Chicago still home, or Hawaii? I suppose the list of places must inevitably grow longer with the transience of certain lives, but I wonder if these are places you could imagine returning to, or if, like me, you'll never know you belonged there until you wake up one morning and don't any longer.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
I was riding the bus back to Seattle from my hometown today, the air conditioning turned up so high that I had goosebumps, and I realized I'd been holding my breath. Arlington is a complicated place, or, I suppose, Arlington and I have a complicated relationship. I went to high school there, and the family that I knew there, the people who became my brothers and sisters, we all wanted to get out. We went away for college. We moved, and traveled and generally scattered. Arlington may not be my home, but this group of friends always will be. They still make me feel young, even as the remind me how responsible we've become. They inspire me with the choices they make, the lives they choose, the things they accomplish. They are not the type to overlook a person's flaws, and yet, they forgive me for being me. They are my feeling of home, wherever they might be.
The face of the town has changed a lot since I lived there. I still see the faded logos of local businesses that have been around since I was a kid, but now they're ducking behind towering Best Buys and Costcos and the roads are new and wide and dark. I feel so foreign in this town, these days. I can imagine what my life would be like still living there, needing a car, having wilderness and wildlife nearby, running in to old faces from high school at the grocery store. I just don't know when my life changed so drastically to make me so out of place here.
By the time I forced myself to take one deep, trembling inhalation I was well on my way back to the city. And the rest of the trip, I-5 rolled by, anonymous, while I relived days at my first job, school dances, fights with my parents, poker games played late into the night around a kitchen table. I thought of the boys who are still my brothers, how they are men now, how they will one day be husbands and fathers and professors and writers and engineers. How I will one day be, whatever it is I'm going to be. Are we becoming what we are because we left or because of where we came from? I had begun to doubt that I would ever feel as strongly about a place as I used to feel about Arlington, when my bus finally stopped in Seattle. I remembered why I love it, why the strangers that live here feel like home to me, almost in the same way my childhood friends do. I believe they will, for the most part, forgive me, too.
For now I am going to make dinner for every one and enjoy the feeling of having so many people I love so close. It won't be like that forever. A big part of home is over in Africa, and I'm going to have to go find her, before long. I wonder, does the White House feel like home? Or is it more like living in a museum? Is Chicago still home, or Hawaii? I suppose the list of places must inevitably grow longer with the transience of certain lives, but I wonder if these are places you could imagine returning to, or if, like me, you'll never know you belonged there until you wake up one morning and don't any longer.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Day 182- Control
Dear Mr. President,
I'm a control freak. I like to be in control of myself, my emotions, and the things that happen around me. Psychologically, this is probably due to the amount of time I spent feeling not in control of what what happening to me or what I was feeling as a child. I recognize that this is often problematic, as I can't control things like Al-Qaeda, or a person's access to a phone, or the time difference between here and Africa. My best friend, who has been in Burkina Faso for only a little more than a week, is being evacuated with the other Peace Corps volunteers. I'm assuming that this is related to the AP story I read earlier today, describing kidnapping threats from AQIM against westerners in Mali and northern Burkina Faso, though this is only speculation. Before she was evacuated, my friend was able to send me a text from a borrowed phone, and assure me that she is OK.
That was 9 hours ago. I have no reason to believe that she is not still safe, but, of course, my lack of control over the amount of information I'm receiving has me anxious and worried. Her friends and family have had sort of a phone circle going, making contact for the sake of our own comfort, as no one has any new information yet. It's funny the way that fear changes us. I've been angrier about this than I ever expected to be. Al-Qaeda's ability to disrupt and terrorize with just a threat is so frustrating. Also, while I believe that the wars we're fighting, the prisons we've built, and the murders we have sanctioned, ostensibly intended to keep us safe from these threats, are actually making the world more dangerous for Americans, I have no clear idea of what a solution would look like. I don't have any respect for the rhetoric, methods or goals of Al-Qaeda, but I do not believe that its members are wholly irrational beings, or that American foreign policy is not responsible for much of the antipathy that generates more Al-Qaeda members. What is most upsetting is that the people who will ultimately suffer in all of this are not the members of Al-Qaeda or the men making the decisions they find so objectionable, but those soldiers, civilians and volunteers like my friend who are caught in between.
I know that the US government will do everything in its power to make sure that my friend and the other volunteers are kept safe, or brought home, and I am grateful for this. I hope that it also finds a way to make more of the world safe for Americans who travel and work abroad- a goal that no amount of military might can achieve. We can't always help the way the Al-Qaedas of the world feels about us, but, speaking as a control freak, I think we'd win a great deal more good will if we accepted that there are some things we can't, and shouldn't, try to control.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
I'm a control freak. I like to be in control of myself, my emotions, and the things that happen around me. Psychologically, this is probably due to the amount of time I spent feeling not in control of what what happening to me or what I was feeling as a child. I recognize that this is often problematic, as I can't control things like Al-Qaeda, or a person's access to a phone, or the time difference between here and Africa. My best friend, who has been in Burkina Faso for only a little more than a week, is being evacuated with the other Peace Corps volunteers. I'm assuming that this is related to the AP story I read earlier today, describing kidnapping threats from AQIM against westerners in Mali and northern Burkina Faso, though this is only speculation. Before she was evacuated, my friend was able to send me a text from a borrowed phone, and assure me that she is OK.
That was 9 hours ago. I have no reason to believe that she is not still safe, but, of course, my lack of control over the amount of information I'm receiving has me anxious and worried. Her friends and family have had sort of a phone circle going, making contact for the sake of our own comfort, as no one has any new information yet. It's funny the way that fear changes us. I've been angrier about this than I ever expected to be. Al-Qaeda's ability to disrupt and terrorize with just a threat is so frustrating. Also, while I believe that the wars we're fighting, the prisons we've built, and the murders we have sanctioned, ostensibly intended to keep us safe from these threats, are actually making the world more dangerous for Americans, I have no clear idea of what a solution would look like. I don't have any respect for the rhetoric, methods or goals of Al-Qaeda, but I do not believe that its members are wholly irrational beings, or that American foreign policy is not responsible for much of the antipathy that generates more Al-Qaeda members. What is most upsetting is that the people who will ultimately suffer in all of this are not the members of Al-Qaeda or the men making the decisions they find so objectionable, but those soldiers, civilians and volunteers like my friend who are caught in between.
I know that the US government will do everything in its power to make sure that my friend and the other volunteers are kept safe, or brought home, and I am grateful for this. I hope that it also finds a way to make more of the world safe for Americans who travel and work abroad- a goal that no amount of military might can achieve. We can't always help the way the Al-Qaedas of the world feels about us, but, speaking as a control freak, I think we'd win a great deal more good will if we accepted that there are some things we can't, and shouldn't, try to control.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Day 166- All the ways we say goodbye
Dear Mr. President,
I saw your speech about the oil spill, and I do know that it is important and I do want to comment on it. But tonight I can't seem to get past the overwhelming sadness of my friend's impeding departure to think about anything else. I know that I'll be fine, and that she'll be fine, and that the work she'll do with the Peace Corps will be exciting and fulfilling. I know these things, intellectually, but emotionally all I know is that my best friend is leaving and I'm going to be left behind while she moves on to a new part of her life. Foolish, right? I can't explain or excuse it. I've been watching our other friends, taking cues from the ways they express their own sadness, and coming to a much clearer understanding that we all manage these types of challenges differently. So, forgive me for taking it personally, but reading yet another op-ed from Maureen Dowd about their being a "right" way to respond to the Oil spill and you not finding it was a bit exasperating.
I think i would not be so irritated by this, if Dowd were the only one saying it. Instead, it seems like every talking head in the media, save those on the White House payroll, are leaping at the chance to suggest that you say or feel or pretend some emotion that they feel is the "right" response. The truth is, nothing is going to make us feel better, short of the spill stopping and the gulf being cleaned up and us all getting to live the way we've always lived. But that isn't going to happen. Nothing is going to make us feel better, so I hope that the White House isn't wasting too much time trying to pin down the perfect tone. Maybe every one in the media could stop worrying about how you sound and go back to writing about actual news. Every one responds differently to tragedy, and any one who thinks you're not serious about handling this because your response doesn't have the allegedly correct tone is simply not going to be convinced by anything.
The Republican response to this, which seems to be, "Don't use this massive and obvious lesson about the dangers of our consumption habits to try and change our consumption habits," is equally infuriating. I would rather have a tragedy be exploited, if it led to honestly corrective measures that would prevent it from happening again. I think that learning from our mistakes ought to be one of those things that transcends party or ideology, and if the Republicans have an honest disagreement over the cause of this spill or the best course of preventative action, they should feel free to propose it. Simply disagreeing with any proposed action because it is based on a tragically hard lesson is not leadership.
I'm so sad, in such a selfish way, tonight, that I suppose my opinion can't matter much on this subject. The only thing I know for sure is that there is no correct way to feel about this, and there is no way for the President to feel that will solve this problem. I wish Maureen Dowd would find something else to write about, and I hope that people wake up and realize how much we're all to blame for this tragedy. For now, I'm just going to say that I think you're doing the best you can, and, even if it's a long way from good enough, I'm grateful that some one is taking care of the hard things, while I am wrapped up in my own, considerably smaller, world.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
I saw your speech about the oil spill, and I do know that it is important and I do want to comment on it. But tonight I can't seem to get past the overwhelming sadness of my friend's impeding departure to think about anything else. I know that I'll be fine, and that she'll be fine, and that the work she'll do with the Peace Corps will be exciting and fulfilling. I know these things, intellectually, but emotionally all I know is that my best friend is leaving and I'm going to be left behind while she moves on to a new part of her life. Foolish, right? I can't explain or excuse it. I've been watching our other friends, taking cues from the ways they express their own sadness, and coming to a much clearer understanding that we all manage these types of challenges differently. So, forgive me for taking it personally, but reading yet another op-ed from Maureen Dowd about their being a "right" way to respond to the Oil spill and you not finding it was a bit exasperating.
I think i would not be so irritated by this, if Dowd were the only one saying it. Instead, it seems like every talking head in the media, save those on the White House payroll, are leaping at the chance to suggest that you say or feel or pretend some emotion that they feel is the "right" response. The truth is, nothing is going to make us feel better, short of the spill stopping and the gulf being cleaned up and us all getting to live the way we've always lived. But that isn't going to happen. Nothing is going to make us feel better, so I hope that the White House isn't wasting too much time trying to pin down the perfect tone. Maybe every one in the media could stop worrying about how you sound and go back to writing about actual news. Every one responds differently to tragedy, and any one who thinks you're not serious about handling this because your response doesn't have the allegedly correct tone is simply not going to be convinced by anything.
The Republican response to this, which seems to be, "Don't use this massive and obvious lesson about the dangers of our consumption habits to try and change our consumption habits," is equally infuriating. I would rather have a tragedy be exploited, if it led to honestly corrective measures that would prevent it from happening again. I think that learning from our mistakes ought to be one of those things that transcends party or ideology, and if the Republicans have an honest disagreement over the cause of this spill or the best course of preventative action, they should feel free to propose it. Simply disagreeing with any proposed action because it is based on a tragically hard lesson is not leadership.
I'm so sad, in such a selfish way, tonight, that I suppose my opinion can't matter much on this subject. The only thing I know for sure is that there is no correct way to feel about this, and there is no way for the President to feel that will solve this problem. I wish Maureen Dowd would find something else to write about, and I hope that people wake up and realize how much we're all to blame for this tragedy. For now, I'm just going to say that I think you're doing the best you can, and, even if it's a long way from good enough, I'm grateful that some one is taking care of the hard things, while I am wrapped up in my own, considerably smaller, world.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Friday, June 4, 2010
Day 155-Hope & Change
Dear Mr. President,
Tonight a close friend, while we shared horror stories from our respective jobs, mused that, no matter how bad things got, he often cheered himself up by thinking, at least he doesn't have to deal with the President's job, or all of your problems. As some one who is frequently told by the very customers making it necessary for me to be at work at 4am how much they pity me for having to be up so early, I know this doesn't help to relieve the tremendous burden of your job. But I do hope you know we appreciate the magnitude of your struggle. On days like today, when I am so despairing of the ignorance and shallowness and petty crimes of so many, I like to remind myself of the people in this world who give me hope.
Emily Henochowicz lost an eye to the IDF this week, for daring to speak out against their attack on the humanitarian ship. She's 21. My best friend leaves in 3 weeks, giving up two years of comfort and delaying academic and professional success to work with community health clinics in rural West Africa. She's 24. My youngest sister supports her family working retail and living paycheck to paycheck, trying to ensure that her son has all he needs to grow up healthy and supported. She's 22. I am surrounded, daily, by examples from my life and from the lives of those I may never meet, of the hope you asked of us in your campaign. What could be more hopeful than giving up your time, energy, even your physical safety for the sake of the next generation and the world we will leave them? You asked us to hope, Mr. President, and I think that, despite all that would inspire only cynicism and despair, we are hopeful, yet.
In exchange for this, we asked you to change things. We asked that our hope be not in vain, that our country be remade in an image more of us could find reflective of our own features, our true nature. Your efforts have been honest, if the results have not always been as profound or as swift as many had expected. Right now it seems like, more than just oil, it is all of our political ambitions, our dearest hopes and grandest plans gushing out to be lost at sea. How will we fix this? Even after it is fixed, will the fallout consume your presidency? I am sure that no one feels this fear more acutely than you, sir.
I suppose the point of this letter is to remind you that, more than our relief at being able to entrust you with the most difficult job in the country, we share your struggles, too. That my generation will have ownership of whatever world you leave us is not lost on me. I am afraid, I am worried, I am angry; but I have not lost hope.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Tonight a close friend, while we shared horror stories from our respective jobs, mused that, no matter how bad things got, he often cheered himself up by thinking, at least he doesn't have to deal with the President's job, or all of your problems. As some one who is frequently told by the very customers making it necessary for me to be at work at 4am how much they pity me for having to be up so early, I know this doesn't help to relieve the tremendous burden of your job. But I do hope you know we appreciate the magnitude of your struggle. On days like today, when I am so despairing of the ignorance and shallowness and petty crimes of so many, I like to remind myself of the people in this world who give me hope.
Emily Henochowicz lost an eye to the IDF this week, for daring to speak out against their attack on the humanitarian ship. She's 21. My best friend leaves in 3 weeks, giving up two years of comfort and delaying academic and professional success to work with community health clinics in rural West Africa. She's 24. My youngest sister supports her family working retail and living paycheck to paycheck, trying to ensure that her son has all he needs to grow up healthy and supported. She's 22. I am surrounded, daily, by examples from my life and from the lives of those I may never meet, of the hope you asked of us in your campaign. What could be more hopeful than giving up your time, energy, even your physical safety for the sake of the next generation and the world we will leave them? You asked us to hope, Mr. President, and I think that, despite all that would inspire only cynicism and despair, we are hopeful, yet.
In exchange for this, we asked you to change things. We asked that our hope be not in vain, that our country be remade in an image more of us could find reflective of our own features, our true nature. Your efforts have been honest, if the results have not always been as profound or as swift as many had expected. Right now it seems like, more than just oil, it is all of our political ambitions, our dearest hopes and grandest plans gushing out to be lost at sea. How will we fix this? Even after it is fixed, will the fallout consume your presidency? I am sure that no one feels this fear more acutely than you, sir.
I suppose the point of this letter is to remind you that, more than our relief at being able to entrust you with the most difficult job in the country, we share your struggles, too. That my generation will have ownership of whatever world you leave us is not lost on me. I am afraid, I am worried, I am angry; but I have not lost hope.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Day 143- Seattle is a kind and loving city brownies
Dear Mr. President,
Tonight a few friends hosted a pot-luck dinner to feature local foods. We bought bread from local bakeries, vegetables and fruit from local farmers, chocolate and beer from local companies. The results were beautiful, and delicious.
I brought zucchini-peppermint-fudge brownies. I've made them before, but tonight they came out better than ever, rich and dark and minty. They're even vegan.
Eating locally in Seattle is probably easier than in other parts of the country. We have plenty of farmer's markets and a tremendous amount of community support that make locally-based choices convenient and even trendy. It's sometimes frustrating when our long rainy season makes it hard to find the produce that, imported, is available-year round. I've just gotten used to waiting all year for decent tomatoes, though, because the first time I had a local heirloom, I was pretty much ruined for the tasteless, hyper-red imitations still stocked in December.
Maybe it's pretentious, but eating food that hasn't been bred for durability during shipping, or disguised by shelf-life-lengthening additives, just tastes better. It gives me a greater appreciation for the people who supply our food and for the way our policies affect them, and also a greater concern for those who live in communities without access to local produce. I hope that this trend is more than just the whim of hipster culture and an indication of a growing commitment to local food. I think the First Family has done an impressive job of encouraging this. The First Lady's anti-obesity campaign has certainly made the connection between fresh, locally-grown food and the health of the community; I hope that tonight's dinner would make her proud.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Seattle is a kind and loving city brownies
Adapted from The Veganomicon's Fudgy Wudgy blueberry brownies, (Named the day a stranger gave me grocery money after my wallet was stolen.)
Ingredients:
2 med Zucchini, finely shredded
1 cup semisweet chocolate chips or chopped chocolate bar
1/4 cup almond milk
3/4 cup raw sugar
1 cup canola oil
2 tsp peppermint extract
1 1/2 cups flour
1/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1/4 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt
1-2 Theo dark-chocolate and mint bars, chopped into small pieces.
Preheat oven to 325 and lightly oil a glass, 9 x 13 baking pan.
Melt chocolate chips or chopped bar over a double broiler, set aside. Combine shredded zucchini, sugar, almond milk, oil, and extracts, mix until smooth. In a separate bowl, sift together flour, cocoa powder, salt, baking soda, baking powder, and slowly combine with liquid mixture. fold in melted chocolate and chopped mint-chocolate bars. Spread into pan, and bake 40 minutes.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Day 10
Dear Mr. President,
Tonight my best friend and I are having an African-themed dinner. She's preparing herself for a 2-year trip to Burkina Faso for the Peace Corps. Don't get me wrong, the idea of eating goat is pretty appalling to both of us vegetarians, but we recognize that she's probably going to have to adjust to it, somehow.
When we were seniors together in high school, our AP English teacher had us write letters to our future selves, which she promised to mail 5 years after graduation. At the time, I had my life planned out well enough to tell myself exactly where I should be. One year into my peace corps service, graduated from college, best friends with my best friend, and, preferably, still dating my boyfriend. As you can imagine, 5 years later, my future self has disappointed her high school past on all but one count.
My best friend and I have gone to school on opposite side of the country, spent a semester on different continents while she was in South Africa, and have stayed close through it all. Will two years apart change that? Since high school I've at least learned enough not to say for sure. But I wouldn't have her stay. I'm so proud of her willingness to give two years of her life to helping others, and inspired by the way she embraces the unknown. It is comforting to think that, even if I haven't lived up to my own expectations, she has.
I think most of my generation graduated High School and planned on changing the world. It seems daily I read or hear something about our generation being apathetic, uninformed, disengaged. Where did we go wrong? What happened between high school and real life that kept so many of us from living up to our own expectations?
For me, it was money. It's not that I feel like every one should just be given a college education. It should be a challenge. It should be something I invest enough of myself in to make it worthwhile. When I get my degree (and, mark my words, I will) it will have been hard won, and it will mean something to me, more than it will ever mean to the people reading about it on my resume. But, between trying to save to go back, and pay off the loans I already have, trying to choose between the benefits of a full-time job and the demands of a full load of classes, I wish going to college in America was just a little bit easier. Would a degree make me happy? Yes. Would it make me the person I thought I'd be by now? Probably not.
I'm still enjoying your book. At my age, you were more successful and more ambitious, but you were, in many ways, just a lost as I feel now. This gives me hope. Not so much that I could be elected president, but that I, too, could wind up a successful, well-adjusted adult with some idea of what my purpose ought to be. I'm looking forward to discovering how you pulled it off.
For now, I'm going to enjoy African food and the last few months with my friend. She's got a two-year plan, at least, and it will be interesting to see where we are whenever we meet again. I hope that in two years' time, I'm more like her, and more like the person I'd hoped to be in high school. For what it is worth, it is comforting to both of us to think that you'll still be in the White House, and that our country will, in all likelihood, be two years better off because of it.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Tonight my best friend and I are having an African-themed dinner. She's preparing herself for a 2-year trip to Burkina Faso for the Peace Corps. Don't get me wrong, the idea of eating goat is pretty appalling to both of us vegetarians, but we recognize that she's probably going to have to adjust to it, somehow.
When we were seniors together in high school, our AP English teacher had us write letters to our future selves, which she promised to mail 5 years after graduation. At the time, I had my life planned out well enough to tell myself exactly where I should be. One year into my peace corps service, graduated from college, best friends with my best friend, and, preferably, still dating my boyfriend. As you can imagine, 5 years later, my future self has disappointed her high school past on all but one count.
My best friend and I have gone to school on opposite side of the country, spent a semester on different continents while she was in South Africa, and have stayed close through it all. Will two years apart change that? Since high school I've at least learned enough not to say for sure. But I wouldn't have her stay. I'm so proud of her willingness to give two years of her life to helping others, and inspired by the way she embraces the unknown. It is comforting to think that, even if I haven't lived up to my own expectations, she has.
I think most of my generation graduated High School and planned on changing the world. It seems daily I read or hear something about our generation being apathetic, uninformed, disengaged. Where did we go wrong? What happened between high school and real life that kept so many of us from living up to our own expectations?
For me, it was money. It's not that I feel like every one should just be given a college education. It should be a challenge. It should be something I invest enough of myself in to make it worthwhile. When I get my degree (and, mark my words, I will) it will have been hard won, and it will mean something to me, more than it will ever mean to the people reading about it on my resume. But, between trying to save to go back, and pay off the loans I already have, trying to choose between the benefits of a full-time job and the demands of a full load of classes, I wish going to college in America was just a little bit easier. Would a degree make me happy? Yes. Would it make me the person I thought I'd be by now? Probably not.
I'm still enjoying your book. At my age, you were more successful and more ambitious, but you were, in many ways, just a lost as I feel now. This gives me hope. Not so much that I could be elected president, but that I, too, could wind up a successful, well-adjusted adult with some idea of what my purpose ought to be. I'm looking forward to discovering how you pulled it off.
For now, I'm going to enjoy African food and the last few months with my friend. She's got a two-year plan, at least, and it will be interesting to see where we are whenever we meet again. I hope that in two years' time, I'm more like her, and more like the person I'd hoped to be in high school. For what it is worth, it is comforting to both of us to think that you'll still be in the White House, and that our country will, in all likelihood, be two years better off because of it.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
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