Day 331- A change of heart

Dear Mr. President,

Former Supreme Court Justice John Paul Stevens has changed his views on the constitutionality of the death penalty. Thirty-four years after deciding with the majority to reinstate capital punishment, Stevens has cited judicial activism, rampant systematic racism and the hysteria of those making life or death decisions as evidence that the death penalty, at least in its current form, is not consistent with the constitution. While this change of heart does nothing for the 1,100-some hearts stopped in the interim years, it does demonstrate an admirable commitment to the higher purpose of the law; a commitment unshaken even by the fear of backing down from such a public position on such a difficult issue.

To see a change like this in such a high-profile individual is astounding. How often do we hear politicians or judges admit they were wrong? How often does the synthesis of new information or insight (rather than the cynical hope of political gain) actually change the entrenched views of our leaders? While, as a result of my own ideology, I am certainly more impressed than I would be if Justice Stevens' opinion had changed the other way, I think that the power of this announcement is not in the moral soundness of his judgement but in his willingness to admit that his previous position was wrong.

I hope that you carefully consider the Justice's words on the subject. I, like Justice Stevens, do not believe that capital punishment has a place in our legal system, and I hope that you take this opportunity to question your own position on the issue. Unlike Justice Stevens, whose changing heart cannot hope to change many lives, you are in a position to help those unjustly affected by this policy. Read the Justice's essay, Mr. President, and see if your own heart is not moved to make the same change.

Respectfully yours,

Kelsey

Day 111- Why I'm a Barista and not POTUS

Dear Mr. President,

Today I was yelled at by a customer I was serving, rudely scolded before I'd even had the chance to do anything wrong. It wasn't a big deal, or even an interaction that far outside of the ordinary, but it's had me contemplating the type of person who gets that angry about coffee. You certainly get angry complaints all the time, you must hear it and read it and see it on a daily basis. Your job requires you to make unpopular, difficult decisions that affect people's lives; a certain amount of anger is just to be expected. I feel as though my relative lack of importance ought to keep people from every getting this angry at me, but then, I suppose every one needs a way to deal with their bad days.

I think this is a bit like appointing a Supreme Court Justice. You've barely begun the decision making process, and already some are angry that your nominee will be too partisan, too moderate, too traditional, too activist, or any number of other hypothetical superlatives. I understand a reasonable amount of concern with who the next Justice will be; the lifetime appointment affords so much power for so little accountability that it is important for citizens to be engaged in the process. However, like my customer today who had a very specific idea of what she wanted and was already convinced that I would not give it to her, many of the hysterics over your decision seem absurdly preemptive.

I hope that the wisdom you displayed in nominating Justice Sotomayor will see you through to making another excellent choice. I'm lucky, in that my conflicts with those I serve can almost always be quickly resolved; I'm empowered to just give them what they want, even when they don't think that's possible. You can only nominate one person, and they can't possibly hope to please every one. I suppose that's why you ran for office and I make coffee all day. Anyway, my workday will be starting in only a few more hours, so I'll leave more important issues for another day. I hope this letter finds you well, and not too overwhelmed with the impossible task of governing a country as difficult as this one. And please, be nice to whoever is serving your coffee.

Respectfully yours,

Kelsey

Day 100- On death, without exaggeration

Dear Mr. President,

I had planned so much to say in this, my 100th letter to you. A beloved Supreme Court Justice is retiring. Sudan is going to the polls. The lights have been out in Gaza for days. The mining accident in West Virginia demands a new look at the way the industry protects its workers. But my heart is heavy for the people of Poland today. The magnitude of their loss is staggering; I don't understand how a country recovers from such a blow. Everything feels a little less safe, our fragility never more apparent than when tragedy strikes those we want to believe are somehow protected from it. Of course, Presidents are not granted a higher degree of immortality just because they are elected to high office. Of course, death does not care about a person's job, or a country's history of struggles. Of course, tragedy like this can unite divided people and urge nations to stand together despite all that they disagree on. It is the only way we make it through.

And so, humbled by this reminder of our own rapidly approaching ends, frightened by the realization that none of us have power over death, we will light candles and put aside our differences and stand together as the people of Poland grieve, and, slowly, move forward. How lost, they must be feeling, right now. It seems especially unfair that this has struck a country that seems to have, throughout history, had to overcome more than its share of tragedy and despair.

I don't pray, Mr. President, but I often, in my conversations with the universe, wish for your safety and security. I will do so, again, this evening. We would be so lost without you, sir.

Respectfully yours,

Kelsey

On death, without exaggeration

by Wislawa Szymborska

It can't take a joke,

find a star, make a bridge.
It knows nothing about weaving, mining, farming,
building ships, or baking cakes.

In our planning for tomorrow,
it has the final word,
which is always beside the point.

It can't even get the things done
that are part of its trade:
dig a grave,
make a coffin,
clean up after itself.

Preoccupied with killing,
it does the job awkwardly,
without system or skill.
As though each of us were its first kill.

Oh, it has its triumphs,
but look at its countless defeats,
missed blows,
and repeat attempts!

Sometimes it isn't strong enough
to swat a fly from the air.
Many are the caterpillars
that have outcrawled it.

All those bulbs, pods,
tentacles, fins, tracheae,
nuptial plumage, and winter fur
show that it has fallen behind
with its halfhearted work.

Ill will won't help
and even our lending a hand with wars and coups d'etat
is so far not enough.

Hearts beat inside eggs.
Babies' skeletons grow.
Seeds, hard at work, sprout their first tiny pair of leaves
and sometimes even tall trees fall away.

Whoever claims that it's omnipotent
is himself living proof
that it's not.

There's no life
that couldn't be immortal
if only for a moment.

Death
always arrives by that very moment too late.

In vain it tugs at the knob
of the invisible door.
As far as you've come
can't be undone.

Day 82- a bit of fiction on a slow news day

Dear Mr. President,

It is difficult not to roll my eyes at the media's obsession with Joe Biden's use of profanity today at the bill signing. As though the bill itself is less significant than the knowledge that the Vice-President uses curse words. I think most thinking adults find this wholly unsurprising. Any one who pretends genuine offense either has forgotten the previous administration's VP entirely or is just too upset about health care reform to be reasonable. Also, with all due respect to VP Biden, on the scale of embarrassing things that he's said into a microphone, this barely registers.

Anyway, since it is such an apparently slow news day, I thought I'd offer a bit of fiction. I doubt very much you've seen the old TV show The West Wing, but, as I watch the first season for the millionth time, it's difficult not to be amused at the parallels between your administration and the fictional Bartlet administration. Life imitating art, perhaps. The episode I'm watching tonight centers around the administration's struggle to nominate the first Latino justice to the Supreme Court (See, it's freaky.) This has me thinking about the imminent retirement of Justice Stevens. I'll be sorry to see Justice Stevens go, though his lifetime of service to our country certainly entitles him to some rest and relaxation. It will be difficult, maybe even impossible to find some one truly worthy of replacing him, but I have faith in your administration, especially after the commendable confirmation of Justice Sotomayor.

What do you look for in judicial nominees? Do you look for individuals who share your political philosophy? As a constitutional scholar yourself, I'm sure you've got more insight into the role of the courts than most previous occupants of your office, do you think that makes the decision more difficult? How much of a factor are the political leanings of the departing justice? This process must involve a great number of people, as I suppose it rightly should. I'll hope that next month brings the announcement of another year with Justice Stevens on the court, but if it should not, I'll look forward to finding out who you'll nominate to be his successor.

Respectfully yours,

Kelsey