Day 358- Ancestry

Dear Mr. President,

Tonight my family had our Christmas celebration a bit early to accommodate our various work schedules. Around a non-traditional (and largely gluten-free, out of respect to my mother and sister's new dietary guidelines) assortment of gourmet foods we kept up the family tradition of being, to a man, loud and incredibly opinionated. Asher, my 2-year old nephew and the only child in our immediate family, seemed to sense that this day was mostly for his benefit, and ran around happily watching cartoons and playing with toys while the grown-ups mulled over boring assessments of roast chicken, maple-glazed squash, mushroom quinoa pilaf and scalloped corn. Gifts came after dinner (but long before the dishes) and we gushed over beautiful new sweaters, intriguing new books and appliances that had the adults even more excited even than Asher at the sight of his giant stuffed dragon.

Spoiled by generous siblings and our mother who never fails to make Christmas just as magical as it was when we were Asher's age, I got a poker chip heart;



Beautiful new scarves and shawls and sweaters:



The tools to marry my two great loves:



even my macbook got a little something:



but the most unexpected gift was a simple family tree from my older sister, and photos of ancestors I'd never even heard of before tonight.









The men and women in these photos are strangers to me. If there are traces of my own features in eyes or noses or cheeks I see no evidence of it. My ancestors came from Germany, Bohemia and England. They married and bore children and died in Minnesota, Pennsylvania and Michigan. Some settled the west, some owned slaves, some arrived with the Puritans in Massachusetts. My sisters and I kept remarking in surprise at how shockingly American the whole story is. To know that these formally-attired, stiffly-posed subjects of photographs are connected to us is strange for me, especially in my urban tribe of familial bonds forged by forces stronger than blood. What significance, if any, do these lives have on my own? Staring at so much small-scale history makes me feel dizzy with the implications, so much more personal than the characters from my textbooks.

I hope that Christmases to come will feel this way, bright and warm and full to bursting with affection for the people near me. In a few generations, when my sisters, brothers and mother and I are all just tiny branches on some one else's family tree, I know they won't understand nights like this one. They won't know about the way we teased and laughed and talked too loudly as we passed around plates of food. They won't know that three cats and two dogs tread happily around our feet, or sulked angrily under beds. They won't know that my mother's Christmas tree had one string of lights in off-white instead of snow-white and why, exactly, that would bother her. They might see photos of me in my strange clothes and find nothing to connect them to me besides the sharing of some significant amount of genes. I think this gift, more than any of the others, reminded me to pay attention, to take in the details before they were lost in whatever next century's black and white photos will be. To look around at my family and feel connected to them, for all of our differences and for all of our faults. My ancestors' Christmas celebrations looked and sounded very different than my own and certainly meant something very different than this night means to our family now, but I hope that they felt a similarly overwhelmed by the love of those around them.

I hope that you have a good Christmas, Mr. President, and that even your job allows you a few hours of beautifully mundane moments like this to remind you of the sustaining love for and from your family.

Respectfully yours,

Kelsey

Day 345- Family, Finals, and Tolstoy

Dear Mr. President,

I've been thinking a lot about family dynamics today. My aunt is visiting, and, especially with the holidays approaching, I'm observing the complicated way that my family and the families of those around me interact. This afternoon, as I returned from my final (by the way, can you issue an executive order forbidding Saturday morning finals? More on this later.) I was discussing college with a coworker and mentioned that as a younger person I'd dreamed of attending NYU. I lamented that, had I gone, my life would be different, I wouldn't be struggling as a 24 year old to finish my undergraduate degree and subjected to the indignities of Saturday morning final exams. It wasn't ultimately grades or distance or even money that kept me out of NYU- it was my father. And, while the wisdom of the intervening 6 years may have taught me that I likely would have made plenty of my own mistakes, or encountered obstacles and tragedies no matter what he decided about my college possibilities, I still resent him as the reason my life is what it is. It is a resentment that is wholly unproductive, of course, and no excuse for my own faults, but his discouragement mattered so much more at that stage in my life because he was family. I think of him more around the holidays, inevitably, but this year, at least when I'm not having my entire day thrown off by inexplicably scheduled exams, I'm not as troubled as I usually am. I have the love of those people who have supported and encouraged me, and that is so much easier to hold on to and so much easier to think of as family.

No life is simple enough to blame all struggles and problems and Saturday finals on one person or once choice. Mine certainly isn't. Surely one of the essential things that we gain from these experiences are the skills necessary to interact with other humans once we're old enough to be more selective about who we spend our time with. I think the news story that brought all of this rambling about families on is probably pretty obviously the tragedy of Mark Madoff's suicide on the anniversary of his father's arrest, but I sort of lost the nerve to write about it. For one thing, I don't want to read any more, it feels like a private tragedy for a family, the kind that shouldn't be headline news. For another, I can't judge any one in this story. Families are complicated and messy and maybe the one thing that unites all of humanity. I'm sure fathers are screwing up their kids in Afghanistan and Portugal and Senegal and every other country on this planet, and the fierce love and protectiveness I feel for my own current family (blood and otherwise) is reflected in every human in every culture. We're all differently damaged by our families, of course, but I don't believe Tolstoy for a second that this is only true for the damage. Happy families are not all alike. Our happiness, the way we love one another, is surely as varied as our humanity. So I will not speak about the Madoff family, or any family, when it is only mine that I can begin to understand.

My family is simultaneously small and sprawling, the product of choice and circumstance and happy coincidence. They put up with me when I grumble too much about finals on Saturdays. I am grateful for them and for all of their quirks and complexity. And while I challenge myself to put aside my resentful feelings towards the people in my past, it is the people in my life presently that make me appreciative of where I have been and what I have experienced. Perhaps it has more to do with the inevitable reflection caused by the end of this year drawing closer, but I am certain that, however different you and I may be and however differently we may feel about the events that brought us to our current lives, we're both experiencing our own gratitude for the presence of those we love right now in a perfectly un-Tolstoy-like way. So I hope that in the coming weeks you, too, have time to enjoy (and, more than likely at times, suffer through) the presence of family without worrying about anything bigger than that.

Respectfully yours,

Kelsey

PS

Please think about that Executive Order.

Day 341- Christmas spirit

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

Day 337- A different path

Dear Mr. President,

Today I caught a girl my own age shoplifting. She told us she's been using heroin since the age of 17. She has two children, who she no longer has custody of, and was visibly suffering the effects of her addiction. While I have no regrets about catching her and sending her to jail, I was a little shocked by how much sympathy I felt for her situation. I couldn't help but wonder how easily I might have found myself down a similar path. I can't imagine the life decisions that lead to an existence like hers, but, even after I clocked out for the night, her story lingered in my mind.

It reminds me that criminals, the anonymous numbers filling prisons around the country, are all stories and decisions and pieces of families. That they are not anonymous. When a friend pointed out to me that you finally got around to issuing pardons for non-turkeys, I was hopeful that you'd had a similar reminder, that your compassion for those who have wandered too far down the wrong path was guiding you to act.

Sadly, your 9 pardons all went to offenders who were not currently serving prison time (and a few who never received prison time at all.) Instead of using your Presidential powers to commute sentences and give worthy applicants a second chance at life, you seem to be on track to match Presiden't Bush's abysmally thin pardon record.

Mr. President, you have a difficult job. Getting legislation passed, appointees confirmed, or policies changed requires the cooperation of the near-useless houses of congress. You don't get to wave your hand and change the world, or even the country. But the pardon is one power that is left almost entirely to your own discretion. You could make a difference, change the lives of so many who have been unjustly punished. This is something you don't need the Republicans to agree to, something you don't have to negotiate through endless bureaucratic nonsense. You have the power to look past the numbers and the sentencing minimums and recognize the human stories behind the charges. I was reminded today how random and cruel life can be, how any of us could find ourselves years down the wrong path with no viable way out. If I had your power, I'd want to do whatever I could to help give people a second chance.

I hope that, going forward, you make better use of that power.

Respectfully yours,

Kelsey

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

Day 320- Friends

Dear Mr. President,

Sometimes I find it strange the way friend have taken the place of family as the care takers in my life. I love the way they take care of me, and put up with me, and I appreciate them for it. I feel like many people my age have seen that transition from surrounding yourself with people you're related to, into surrounding ourselves with a family we get to chose. It is a strange kind of family, but, for the most part, we do OK.

My friends, besides being brilliant in their own right, tend also to have similar political values. I have a few libertarian or outright conservative friends, but I tend to avoid making new ones. I have no problem relating to people of other ages, races, or sexual orientations, but my political beliefs tend to exclude me from friendship with those who outright disagree with my political values.

I'm not a professional politician, and I'd say this polarization of beliefs would probably be much worse if I were. Avoiding those I disagree with doesn't help me, and it certainly doesn't help those whose minds I would attempt to change. When the photo-ops are over and the cameras and microphones have subsided, do you find yourself, honestly relating well to republicans? Do you have republican friends? Or do ideological divides determine your friendships, as well?

Respectfully yours,

Kelsey

Day 313- Life is weird.

Dear Mr. President,

Lately I've had a number of conversations with friends about the kind of people we want in our lives, and the kind of people we want to be ourselves. It comforts me to know that other people also struggle with their own conceptions of themselves and their desire to see the good even in the deeply flawed. Over the last three days I've spent time with my mother and with friends long-standing and brand-new. I've been reminded of the things I've always loved about them, or come to realize their magnificent qualities, in the smallest ways. Waiting semi-patiently in a tiny lobby for a table at a restaurant I've wanted to try forever with my mother. Group high-fiving with friends as we enjoyed an especially successful kitchen adventure. Sharing meals, or cupcakes or a few pitchers of beer. I've been remembering these encounters in a series of moments that don't mean anything but just make me feel happy. Happier than I've been in a while. Happier than maybe I believed I could be while so many other things are so uncertain.

This sense of connection with the people in my life calms my usual anxiety about what I'm doing with my life and if I'm doing it fast enough. Goals are important, (and I have them,) but pausing to enjoy the company of the many, many amazing people around me is also important. Maybe even more so. My inclination to feel like I'm alone or, at least, unforgivably messed up and strange, is beaten back by the affection of these incredible friends and family who seem to like me well enough anyway.

With this sense of elation comes an intense desire to see the best in others. Even President Bush just seems to have some severe Mommy issues. Those idiots who post angry comments on the White House facebook page (please, for the sake of your own sanity, never read those,) are just lonely and desperate and frightened. All of my peers who decided not to vote (even the ones in Washington State who only have to mail an envelope) were.... Ok, that did it, I'm back to my cynical mistrust for all of humanity. (Thanks, young voters.) Some things are actually just inexcusable.

But as my friend today so wisely put it, life is weird. We try to do the best we can, to make the right choices and to find the best in people and to appreciate those we love. The strange and the complicated and the rare moments of contentment just make it all worth it. And while talking heads might try to claim your trip to Indonesia and India as an unforgivable indulgence of a desire to see Diwali celebrations, I would be so much happier if I could believe you were actually relaxing and having fun. Mommy issues or no, President Bush spent most of his time on vacation. I think you've earned a few weeks of physical distance from the frustration of domestic politics. Whenever I'm happy and content and particularly pleased with the people in my life, the one thing I want most is for every one else to feel the same way. That's something that not even the apathetic, fair-weather-activist, youth voters can ruin, either.

Life is weird. Isn't it great?

Respectfully yours,

Kelsey

Day 308- Bitch

Dear Mr. President,

While I'm certainly not going to win any prizes for equanimity, I'm not particularly short tempered. Being called "bitch" by a man, however, is perhaps the quickest way to trigger a really irrational amount of anger. So tonight, when a man trying unsuccessfully to steal from my store called me "bitch" I just about lost control of my temper. I won't claim it is at all the same level of offense, but I think this is the closest emotional experience I, as a white, straight, woman, will ever have to being called a racial or homophobic slur. There might be worse things to call a woman, but I doubt there are many words that have so frequently accompanied by physical violence. And while my female roommates and I may toss it back and forth casually, the sound of it in a man's mouth makes my skin crawl. Perhaps it's irrational, perhaps it's an unfair double standard, but I think there are some emotional reactions that simply can't be entirely logical.

Once I calmed down and dispassionately contemplated the incident, it was clear that the man was just trying to intimidate me. I like to think that, regardless of how it made me feel, I managed not to exhibit the kind of weakness he was hoping to find. While discussing the encounter with a female coworker, she recalled a similar incident with a man on the bus with her. "It just makes me mad," she said, "because he never would have acted that way if I were a man. I hate being seen as an easier target just because I'm a woman." Maybe it's because I'm three books in to a series that describes an actual war between armies of men and armies of women, but I definitely have felt what she's talking about. I want to walk down my street at any time of night (and in any length of skirt) without getting shouted at. I want to live free from those who would assume that my abilities and vulnerabilities are defined by my sex. For a moment I was caught up in that simplistic us versus them mentality that I so often dismiss as intellectually lazy. Then I thought about Michele Bachmann. And Sarah Palin. I remembered that no classification as broad or as simple as gender (or, to be fair, political party) is an apt indicator of friend or foe.

While the narrative about the role of female candidates in the most recent election cycle was repeated often enough to seriously grow annoying, i do have to appreciate the effects. I think we've come a long way from McCain's "beat the bitch" rallying cry against Hillary Clinton. Carly Fiorina and Meg Whitman and Sharon Angle lost, not because they were too smart or too assertive, or not attractive enough, but because they were not effective or qualified candidates. Their opponents beat them on merit- not on sexist stereotypes. Patty Murray and the other women who won their races demonstrated that a smart, dedicated candidate with a persuasive enough message and the courage of her convictions can prevail, no matter what gender.

When I came home tonight I saw this story about a mother who had to defend her 5-year old son's decision to dress as a female character for halloween. While her impassioned defense of her son's choice and condemnation of the judgement he encountered from the mothers of the other students was inspiring, the sad reality of her contention, "If my daughter had dressed as Batman, no one would have thought twice about it. No one" reminded me that being a man isn't exactly easy, either. I'm glad that I'm able to calmly and reasonably analyze this tendency I have to view all men as opposition, and hopefully overcome that immature prejudice. I would imagine that this is far from the last time that a man is going to call me bitch and I will have to walk away let it go. It will probably always make me angry. Still, I suppose I can take comfort in the fact that, even if I am kind of a bitch, at least I'm not a scrawny skateboarding punk who tries to steal hats.

And that's enough, for now.


Respectfully yours,

Kelsey

Day 303-Love and Sanity

Dear Mr. President,

250,000 people showed up to restore sanity in Washington DC. In Seattle, and in cities around the world, satellite rallies were held by those who couldn't make the trip to DC. I don't know if this speaks to the mood of the country or merely to the size of Jon Stewart's fan base, but it certainly lifted my spirits. I feel like, no matter the differences between my views and each of theirs, the people at those rallies are my kind of people. It's nice to know we're not nearly as alone as many of us feel.

Sanity has probably been my number one goal in life for the last year or so. I spent so much of my life feeling like I was at the whim of my impossible to predict emotions and the equally confusing way others treated me. For me this has meant avoiding intense romantic relationships. Being in love has only brought out the worst in me. Witnessing the way it has had similar destructive effects on family members and friends hadn't done much to convince me otherwise. This year, as I've worked to figure out what it is I want from the people in my life, I've started to realize how much my political passions have always played a role in grounding me. When I was going through one of the more difficult break-ups of my life, campaigning for you helped keep me sane because it kept my life in a much more reasonable perspective. Once the campaign was over, I felt completely lost and, not surprisingly, basically lost my mind. Getting back to that sense of perspective through this project has been amazingly good for me. One of the best parts of this blog has been the way it has helped me find the people in my life who value me for my political passions and who support me even when they don't agree with me. And, as I begin to define what is important to me and what is important about me, I've begun to notice more and more examples of healthy relationships among my friends. Watching one couple today, who act like their remarkable affection and respect for one another is the most normal thing in the world (much to my unending puzzlement) I even began to imagine I might one day find that for myself. It makes me think that perhaps my cynicism came not from observation and experience, but was itself shaping my perceptions in order to reaffirm a belief I'd already held.

I think many liberals feel like we're constantly surrounded by crazy people. I feel like this rally offered an opportunity for many of us to realize we're not alone, that our outsider status was a product of our own cynicism and not a reflection of reality. We're not at odds with the rest of the country; we are the majority. The majority of this country is pro-choice, pro-gay rights, pro-reasonable regulation, taxation, and social services. There is more that unites us then divides us. The system frustrates us, the corruption and stagnation that prevent our country from fulfilling its promise and potential for good. I think that being told we're not the crazy ones will be helpful and inspiring to many on the left who have struggled for years to understand our place in a national discourse dictated by FOX news. If no greater good comes from today's rally than the reassurance that we're not outsiders, that we have a place at the table, well, I think it was probably worth inconveniencing really all of Washington DC for a day or so. Who knows, if I had managed to make it to DC, I might even have found myself a boyfriend.

Respectfully yours,

Kelsey

Day 276- Roads taken and otherwise

Dear Mr. President,

I'm having one of those weeks where everything in my life is up for questioning. Am I happy? Am I doing the right thing? Am I making the right choices? What are my goals? Maybe it's back-to-school time getting to me, or the overabundance of sentimental movies I've been watching lately. Facing this general uncertainty always inclines me to look back, to evaluate the decision and compromises and mistakes I've made in the past. (It also leads to a lot of baking.) I see old boyfriends and high school classmates getting married, settling down, having children. Sometimes I worry that kind of normal adulthood is just never going to appeal to me. People my age want careers, houses, cars, families. I want something much less tangible. Perhaps my constant need to question the path I'm walking has held me back, slowing my journey and putting me through more emotional turmoil than otherwise necessary. I suspect, however, that I'm just built this way, there's nothing to be done about it.

This letter isn't particularly political. I know people with Real Problems- worries over where their next meal, the new roof, the health insurance, the unemployment benefits, the job or the right to marry their partner will come from, if it comes at all. I'm lucky to be wallowing in a state of mild existential crisis. It will surely pass. And while I may wish I could go back and do a number of things differently, it is far more important to focus on my current situation and try to steer in a better direction. I want to find happiness, and I think that a big part of that, for me, is feeling good about what I do, and that requires a certain amount of constant questioning.

Do you find yourself doing the same thing with your own goals? I can't imagine that you have the luxury of being anywhere near as self-reflective as my lack of significance affords me. The importance of your job simply wouldn't permit it. But surely you have to take stock of things, occasionally, to measure your progress and question your course. Especially given the grim forecast for the midterms and the recent media narrative, I'd imagine you must be seriously considering your Presidency's goals and strategies. While I'm sure that conventional wisdom says you ought to be moving to the center, pandering to the vocal movement of intractable conservatism, I hope that you refuse to listen to it. You can't take back the promises you made in the campaign, or lower expectations before you took office. The only thing left to do is figure out a way to keep those promises and rise to those expectations- something that an ostensibly safe veer toward the center will never allow you.

Respectfully yours,

Kelsey

Day 233-Never-never land

Dear Mr. President,

Recently I've read several articles on my generation and our refusal to grow up. We're living with our parents, or relocating every year. We're working dead-end jobs, struggling under mountains of student debt, and working on our blogs. We're riding our bikes and living with our boyfriends with no intentions to get married or have babies. We travel, we volunteer, we hobby and create and use irony as an excuse to never be accused of taking anything, especially ourselves too seriously. While I'm glad that these (much older) journalists have no problem generalizing about 20-somethings like we're all the same, I am only confident enough to speak for myself. I can't answer these charges for a whole generation, but I think I at least ought to explain my own failure to achieve the socially accepted milestones for adulthood.

Some weeks, when money is really tight, my mother still pays for my groceries. I live in a 2-bedroom apartment with 3 roommates. I work part-time, with no benefits, for about $10/hr. Student loan payments run me $250 a month, and I haven't graduated yet. It isn't that I don't want to grow up. I want my degree, I want health insurance and I want to make enough money to help out my family, instead of depending upon them. I want a house with a garden and I want a stable relationship. But I also want to travel, to keep learning, to help others, to find a way to live without adding to the destruction of the planet and the exploitation of the poor. The kind of experiences I still look for aren't always comfortable or safe or conducive to settling down and having children. But delaying the trappings of traditional adulthood for the sake of a better world (or at least a better understanding of it) isn't exactly cause for the kind of hysteria I see in these articles.

The traditional cycle seems to have gone off course, as young people remain un tethered to romantic partners or to permanent homes, going back to school for lack of better options, traveling, avoiding commitments, competing ferociously for unpaid internships or temporary (and often grueling) Teach for America jobs, forestalling the beginning of adult life.

The New York Times might sneer at this as whimsical and immature, but I'm not convinced that the traditional model works particularly well. What kind of country have you left us? The environment is being destroyed and destroying us (and Pakistan) as a result. The rest of the world hates us for our consumption, our pollution, or the way we've manipulated the histories of their own nations to suit our fear-mongering of the moment. Our economy is collapsing, college costs are skyrocketing and divorce rates in our parents' generation left more than a few of us disillusioned about running down the aisle with the first person we want to sleep with.

Sorry, I seem to be falling into that dangerous trap of generalization. Again, I can't speak for any one but me. I may not do much more than write this silly blog and send you these naive letters but, to be frank, I don't know that you've left me a lot of better options. Maybe we are languishing in entry-level jobs, DIY-ing, blogging, painting and otherwise skipping through life like we're still kids at summer camp. Personally, I'm just trying to live the best way I know how. The world our parents left us is not sustainable. We know it, they know it, and you know it. I appreciate that your administration hasn't jumped on the bandwagon of lamenting my generation's everlasting adolescence, (perhaps because so many of us are fetching coffee for no wages while we teach your staff how to use twitter.) If you do come across these laundry lists of complaints your generation seems to have about mine, take it from this 20-something and don't try to help us live lives that look more like our parents. In spite of all your well-intentioned plans for us, we've got our own ideas about growing up and all you need to know is that we're a lot more likely to figure it out if we're not so wrapped up in looking and buying and earning like adults we lose sight of that hallmark of true maturity- concern for the condition of the world we're leaving to the next generation.

Respectfully yours,

Kelsey

Day 215- Birthright

“We all feel and understand the hearts of children, but on the other hand, there are Zionist considerations and ensuring the Jewish character of the state of Israel. The problem is that these two components clash.” Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu


Dear Mr. President,

I agree with Lou Dobbs. That's actually too weird for me to feel comfortable saying out loud, so let me say instead, Lou Dobbs agrees with me about the growing number of GOP senators who want to repeal the 14th amendement, in that we both think they're ridiculous. It reminded me of an article I'd read recently about the Israeli decision to deport 400 children born in Israel to foreign laborers. While the decision made could have been much worse, the idea that it was done, as PM Netanyahu stated, to ensure "the Jewish character of the state of Israel" did not sit well with me. In general, I'm opposed to systems of government where a person's religion determines their rights. The idea that several of my friends born in America have a birthright to Israeli citizenship that these children (not to mention the millions of Palestinians forced out in 1948 and 1967) born in Israel do not have, it just doesn't seem right. It's not a debate I'm likely to win, and I do understand the need for Jews to have a protected place and the means to defend themselves against another holocaust. I just don't think that denying the rights of non-Jews born in Israel is an acceptable cost.

I wonder, what character of our nation would we be trying to preserve in repealing 14th amendment rights? Our white, English-speaking character? Or, perhaps, the illusion that white Americans who took this land from the native people have a superior right to its resources than the descendants of non-white populations that have lived on this continent for generations before Europeans knew its name? I, for one, do not think that character, or that illusion, is worth protecting at all, but especially not if it means devaluing our constitution. I think that the rights guaranteed in our constitution, the spirit of freedom and equality enshrined in its words, that lofty and yet to be perfected ideal is the only character we ought to fight to ensure. Denying these basic values to persecute immigrants and minorities for the sake of keeping our white, English-speaking, Christian majority is simply not what this country stands for.

And I'm glad to know that Lou Dobbs agrees with me.

Respectfully yours,

Kelsey

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

Day 190- DOMA

Dear Mr. President,

I applaud Judge Joseph Tauro's decision to reject federal legislation against gay marriage. DOMA is a shameful relic of our country's bigoted past and should be repealed. I hope that the kind of wisdom he demonstrated in his decision will not go unheralded by your administration. This is another step, albeit much too small and much too slow, in the direction of equality and justice for gay and lesbian Americans. The arguments posed by proponents of DOMA during congressional debate simply do not stand up against evidence. Gay mariage is legal in Canada, South Africa, Sweden and many other European countries. As far as I know, these countries haven't experienced a tremendous breakdown in traditional mariages. The basic family unit has not been destroyed. Plagues of locusts have not descended. The fear and hatred expressed by those who feel threatened by the gay community is simply not based on anything resembling legitimate grounds.

In preparation for this letter I decided to read some pro-DOMA arguments, from news sites I don't normally visit. (This, by they way, is still your fault. Remember that commencement speech in Michigan?) This jewel, from world net daily, is what I found:

"President Obama has been actively promoting an agenda to undermine the nation's marriage laws," said Staver, who also is dean of Liberty University School of Law. "When you weaken the family, as President Obama is doing by his policies, you weaken society. Children fare best when raised with a mom and a dad. Redefining marriage to something it was not intended to be weakens the family and is not in the best interest of children or society. President Obama and Attorney General Eric Holder must defend the nation’s marriage laws. The Obama administration must defend DOMA, not sabotage the law."

I don't see how the speaker has made his case that your policies "weaken the family", or how this affects "children and society." I do find it amusing that these far-right nut jobs are attacking you for advancing the homosexual agenda when, no offense, your administration has moved pretty slowly on issues of gay rights. I suppose my point is that, if you're going to upset these people no matter what you do (and, let's face it, they weren't voting for you, anyway,) why not own the charges they make? Why not actually, vocally, publicly support repealing DOMA and granting marriage equality to homosexual couples? Civil rights issues shouldn't have to wait for a show of hands from every one; acceptance of interracial couples is still a problem for some people, but no one is arguing that we should let them steer national marriage policy for every one. If you're holding out for more public support, I think that's just poor leadership. Legalizing gay marriage is the right thing to do, and I think you know that. Why miss the opportunity to show that you're a courageous leader for the sake of voters who will blame you for it no matter how slowly the changes are made? I don't see what you gain, and I don't see how it is best for the country. I sincerely hope that you find the courage to stand up against DOMA, and to praise Judge Tauro for his wise decision.

Respectfully yours,

Kelsey

Day 187- Man hands

Dear Mr. President,

In high school, they called me man hands. It sounds cruel, but it was sort of an endearment. I do have big hands. The people who love me best still call me this, occasionally, and I love them for it. But it started earlier than that. It started when I was 4 years old and saw The Neverending Story. I promptly convinced my mother to cut off my long golden curls so that I could look like Atreyu. When my older sister told me Atreyu was a boy, I was pretty skeptical; I identified with the character enough to believe that he must be female, like me. After that, it was being the only girl on the soccer field at recess, or picked first for kickball because, as a 5th grader, my 5'+ frame and size 9 shoes made me awkward and strange, but damn good at kicking a ball. These days, I work in a physical, occasionally dangerous and adrenaline-filled job. While my supervisor is female, she acknowledged to me that I'm the first woman to apply in a long time. So, I suppose, she and I work what some would call a man's job. I don't want to be a mother and I don't want to be some one's wife, but I like romantic movies and make-up and Jane Austen novels as much as the next girl. What does this make me?

Abnormally masculine, according to Pediatric endocrinologist Maria New, of Mount Sinai School of Medicine and Florida International University. That my aspirations for a life outside of motherhood, marriage and so-called feminine traditions are traits some (ironically, female) doctors would attempt to prevent in utero is kind of horrifying. Considering my upbringing, watching my parents come home from the same work, with the same weapons and tools, knowing that my mother worked just as hard as my father, had more education, made more money than him, outranked him and still had to come home and be responsible for the domestic chores while he relaxed in front of the TV, maybe my abnormality isn't genetic so much as experience? Of course, my father and stepmother tried hard to break me out of my tomboyish tendencies, forbidding certain masculine clothing, encouraging and even emphasizing the importance of cosmetic beauty. But I never outgrew it. I'm not dainty or delicate. I don't aspire to be. I can't change this, any more than I could change the size of my hands. Even my handwriting (as the unfortunate readers of your mail must surely be aware) is undeniably masculine.

If my parents had been given the choice, if they had been offered a pill to take with prenatal vitamins that ensured them a "normal" daughter, would they have taken it? How does a parent justify making decisions about a person's disposition, their preferences and temperament, the things that make up their personality, all without their consent? I think that science is pretty awesome, that genetics and the prenatal prevention of disease are important and fascinating fields. But reading about this research and the reasoning used to justify it, I can't help but wonder who gets to decide what is a problem, an abnormality that needs correction or prevention, and where the checks on that kind of power could possibly come from. What's feminine today is different than 24 years ago, and by the time children receiving this treatment reach their own adulthood, I'm sure it will be even more so. That 4 year old girl who looked back at me from the mirror as our mother cut our hair and turned us into a warrior, she could have grown up to be anything, a mother, a Supreme Court nominee, even a pediatric endocrinologist. So far, all she's become is a loss prevent agent and blogger, a chronically opinionated and ambitious young adult with giant hands. But I'd hate to think that, even before she was born, there could have been a medically sanctioned definition of what the correct choice would be.

Girls of all ages have a role model in Elena Kagan, so thank you for nominating her to the bench. I believe that her life's work is no less valuable than any children she might have born, instead. I am grateful for her and for all of the other abnormal women who have come before me. They have made the world safer for women like me, and improved it for all of us- even Dr. New. I'm not promising that I'll cut my hair to look more like her, but, if she gets a luckdragon name Falkor, it may be cause to reconsider.

Respectfully yours,

Kelsey

Day 185

Dear Mr. President,

Happy 4th of July. Here in Seattle, it's gray and raining, which is neither surprising not particularly disappointing when you consider the beautiful green life it supplies. I hope that you're having a relaxing day in a more july-appropriate climate. Yesterday I wrote about my conflicted emotions regarding independence day, and today I'd like to keep things short, to enjoy the assembled company who, friend and stranger alike, remind me that there are plenty of things about Americans with celebrating.

So, I'm sorry for the short letter. I'm grateful, especially tonight, for all the Americans who are working to serve our county, making this lovely, relaxing celebration possible for me. Thank you, Mr. President.

Respectfully yours,


Kelsey

Day 178- Pride

Dear Mr. President,

The Space Needle, arguably the most easily recognized icon in our city, is flying a rainbow flag this week. This has, of course, caused its share of grumbling, but it makes me proud to be a Seattlite. I went to a high school in a small town where being gay was not acceptable. I saw the struggles of my gay, lesbian, bisexual and not-entirely-straight friends. Some bore the antipathy they received well. Some stayed in the closet, or, at least, out of the way. Personally, I was on a crusade to get the boys on my cross-country team to stop calling things they disliked "gay", and earned their annoyance and even the wrath of my coach, when I called him out about it, as well. This was only 6 years ago, and, while I'm sure that Arlington is a long way away from flying any rainbow flags of its own, every time I see the Space Needle, I'm reminded of how far we've come. I'm proud to live in a city that celebrates its gay community.

As a general rule, I don't date Republicans. I believe that people of different political opinions can be friends, can have mutual respect, but, for me, there are aspects of the Republican party's platform that are so contrary to my values, that I could never be in a relationship with a person who believes in them. The opposition to gay marriage is the most significant of these. One can argue the separation of politics and personal values to a point, but too many people I love are being kept from full rights as Americans because of who they love, and for me, that's as personal as it gets. If a person can cast a ballot for that kind of bigoted ignorance, or a candidate who perpetuates it, they have no place in my life.

Who we love and who we hate define who we are, and, as I am proud of my city for showing its love, I am ashamed of my country for being guided by those who hate. It is 2010, in a nation ostensibly founded on the promise of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. How is it still possible that two consenting adults in love cannot be allowed to marry? What does that say about us, as a nation? Isn't our freedom the root of our national pride? Patriotism is so difficult to muster in the face of such unapologetic hypocrisy. Flying a rainbow flag may be easy, but my state is also beginning to walk the walk legislatively, as well. It is too little, and it is too slow, but it is a lot better than the practices of the federal government.

I think that the opponents of gay marriage in this country need to hear some hard truths. Their fears are based in ignorance, their religions do not and must not dictate the laws of this land or the lives of other Americans. Their prejudices have no place in our legislation. We should repeal DOMA, because it is the right thing to do, and because it would give so many Americans cause to be proud of our country again.

Respectfully yours,

Kelsey

Day 177- Warner Brown

Dear Mr. President,

My Grandfather passed away today. He was almost 89 years old. He served his country in World War II, raised 5 children, lived to see his first great-grandchild, and, even just a few years ago, could beat my sister handily on the tennis court. His ashes will be scattered in Florida, the place he was undoubtedly the happiest, and, if there is any afterlife, he is happily reunited with my grandmother. Theirs was the family's one love story, a brief courtship followed by a wedding and a long deployment. When the war ended they were together until her death, six years ago, and my Grandfather never loved anyone else.

I did not know him well, but I believe he was a good man. He lived a continent away, but when I look back on the crowd of hands that have held me up and gently pushed me onward, his is undoubtedly among them. He barely knew my sisters and I, but every month while we were in college he sent us $25, which he insisted that we spend, not on books or bills or anything sensible, but on something fun. (I confess, sometimes groceries were fun.) I was never as thankful as I ought to have been, but I hope he knew my gratitude. He was stubborn and funny and totally independent. He lived well, and I am glad, for his sake, that death found him before he suffered.

I don't feel particularly sad, to be honest. My Grandpa lived a long, respectable life, had a loving family, and died a quiet death. This is certainly more than is promised to any one. I don't think I've contemplated death much more or less than any other 24 year old, but I know it has never frightened me. It is all any of us is owed, without exception. As dazzlingly complex as life on this planet may seem at times, every one succumbs to the forces of entropy, and, at the end, we are all the same. Walking home tonight, I felt oddly close to every one, from the tired bus driver, to the tribe of punks drinking and smoking in their back yard, even to Presidents and rich oil executives, because I am reminded that when our unique stories end, when the trigger is pulled or the breaks fail or the organs shut down, the same night awaits us all. And I believe it is peaceful, and beautiful, and calm.

Respectfully yours,

Kelsey

Day 171- The Most Important Job

As the father of two young daughters, I know that being a father is one of the most important jobs any man can have.

President Barack Obama, 6/20/2010

Dear Mr. President,

The most important job any man can have. I've never heard a better, or more heartbreaking description of fatherhood. This day has made me a bit sensitive for years, a dedicated celebration of a role that the my father never lived up to. This year it is particularly hard, both because my mother is facing the loss of her own dad, who had a massive stroke and will likely not live to see his 89th birthday in a few weeks, and because my best friend left today for the Peace Corps. I wanted to write about fatherhood, and all the men in my life who, with no bond of blood to compel them, supported me and encouraged me when I really needed it. I think your own childhood had similar experiences, but, as you said in your speech today, it is a hole that cannot ever be filled. My dad didn't leave, he wasn't physically absent, but, especially as I grew older, I often found myself needing a dad and finding that he was unwilling to be one. I've never wanted more from him than for him to just be my dad, to call me and ask about my day and tell me stories from his job and bad jokes. I may resent the hell out of his spending habits, his prioritizing new jewelry for my stepmother and motorcycles and caribbean cruises over any support for his daughters' education, I may think his law-and-order morality and republican voting record appalling, but at the end of the day, he's my dad, all he ever had to do was call me.

The worst part is the self-doubt. I know I could probably heal things, I could, again, be the one to call and we could talk again and it would be almost like I had a dad again. But I know it comes at much too high a cost, that I will always believe my obedience and submission and self-reproach is required for any one to love me. I would always question if I am too smart or too independent to be loved, if, one day, any slight offense, any violation of unspoken rules, would result in months, or even years of silence. My father had three girls and it was his most important job to be a father to us, to be good to our mother. How does any man justify walking away from that job?

Thank you, Mr. President, for reminding us how important that job is, to all of us. I am grateful for the number of father figures, friends, mentors, teachers, brothers, and the fathers who work so hard every day at it. Happy Father's day.

Respectfully yours,

Kelsey

Day 147

Dear Mr. President,

I'm not sure what you could have done to please the people who are still complaining about your lack of involvement in the oil spill. Maybe you could have put on scuba gear and patched the leak manually? Anyway, I think that the horror of the situation is not that more could have been done, but that no one knows, exactly, what to do now.

My own world has been very small these last few days. My brother-in-law's father passed away, and so my sister has left her 2-year old son with his aunts and grandmother these last few days. Right now he's not too pleased to be with his aunty and not his mom, but we watched Star Wars together, so I think, on the whole, he's going to be OK with it. I love spending time with my nephew, but I couldn't take this on as a full-time job. This is why I'm so constantly amazed at his Dad, who is not his biological father, but who still has committed himself to raising my nephew as his own. I didn't know his father, who just passed away, but he must have been a good dad himself, to raise such a remarkable son. The kinds of patience and selflessness required to parent a young child are not often seen in my age group, (I certainly don't possess them,) and so I'm always surprised to encounter these qualities in people my own age.

Looking at the world from the perspective of my nephew, who won't even be old enough to vote until 2026, I realize how angry I'd be, if I were him. The world we're leaving his generation is in pretty bad shape, and, as appalling as our mistakes and failures may have been, sometimes its the answers we don't even know we need to look for that scare me the most. One of our uncles in Florida called last week to apologize to my aunt for not taking her diving in the Florida keys last time she visited. He knows now, because of the spill, it's unlikely that they'll be able to do so again in their lifetimes. I've never been to the Florida keys at all, nor have I been to Louisiana, but at least I got a chance to swim in the Gulf of Mexico once, several years ago. I still hold out hope that Asher will have that chance, too.

Anyway, Mr. President, I share your frustration at the lack of progress, and I believe that finding a solution is, for now, more important than finding out who is to blame. I appreciate your continued emphasis on the role BP has in this, as well as you ability to take responsibility for the mistakes of your own administration, and I hope that we take all necessary steps to ensure that this never happens again. My heart is heavy for the people who live in the region, and also for children like my nephew, who will grow up never knowing how it was before this disaster.

Respectfully yours,

Kelsey