Dear Mr. President,
Tonight when I got on the bus to go home the driver saw the book in my hand and said "The two highest compliments I get from any one who rides my bus is falling asleep and reading." He said he'd try to drive smoothly so I'd have an easier time with it. I've never seen this bus driver before (or, maybe I have and, like so many bus riders let my eyes slide past him without committing anything to memory) so I don't know if he enjoys his job or hates it, if he's gay or straight, republican, democrat or anarchist. The only thing I know about him is that he is kind and approves of my two favorite activities (sleeping and reading) and seemed to approve of me, as well. This remark buoyed my work-weary and cold little spirit, a small kindness that made my whole night a little brighter.
Lately my friend's trip home for the holidays has made me the temporary owner of a car. The freedom that comes with this is incredible; I can drive where I want to go without concern for route or schedules or fare or transfers, I can play music and sing (badly) as loud as I like, I can transport really amazing amounts of groceries. But I usually wind up angry at the rest of the drivers on the road, drivers who go too slowly or break rules or don't use turn signals. While riding King County Metro doesn't always give me hope for humanity- smelly drunks, screaming children, twitchy addicts and the general impoliteness of high school kids in large numbers are just a few of mankind's shortcomings I've been known to complain about- I do at least have to keep my anger to myself, as we're not all insulated by our little glass and metal vehicular bubbles. Reluctantly, often grudgingly, I connect with people on the bus; from the young aspiring DJ asking for my number (and mistaking my right-hand ring for a wedding band when I said no) to the tiny girl playing peek-a-boo with pink plastic beads in her fuzzy braids, to the old man who wanted to discuss international humanitarian law after seeing my textbooks, I find myself having conversations, interactions or observations of strangers every time I ride the bus. I think that, even at its most tedious, riding the bus leaves me feeling a little more connected to my community.
While I will continue to take advantage of Eric's car as long as he lets me, I think I will forever be a bus rider rather than a car owner. This isn't just because I can't imagine attaining the financial security necessary for car ownership in a city, or even because of my environmental objections to frequent driving, but because I think relying upon the bus keeps me from isolating myself behind my ideas of other people and forces me to observe and interact with individuals of ages and backgrounds I might never otherwise encounter. I'm surely romanticizing the entire experience (and will laugh at this, the next time I'm crammed into a standing-room only commuter route through the tunnel with eight teenagers blaring music through their headphones or a crazy crackhead lighting up in the aisle) but for now I'm smiling to myself at the kind words of an old man who approves of me, even if he doesn't know a thing about me, not even my name, except that I read on busses.
Mr. President, I know this seems like a strange thing to tell you on the second to the last night of my year of letters to you, but I started this project for a number of reasons and among them was this; I wanted to share with you the only thing I can offer that no one else can, and that is the small experiences of my average existence. You will probably never ride a public bus again, especially not as a stranger, and so I like to imagine that you might find some value in the story of a girl, feet aching from work and caught in a surprise cold front without a coat, boarding a city bus and being thanked just for doing the thing she loves most. That you might understand why such an experience matters. Maybe it's just the optimistic holiday spirit sweeping me up, but tonight I think the world is not so bad. I hope you think so, too.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Showing posts with label community. Show all posts
Showing posts with label community. Show all posts
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Monday, December 20, 2010
Day 354- Lunacy
Dear Mr. President,
On my way to work this morning I read a New York Times report on an increase in serious mental illnesses on college campuses and corresponding budget cuts which limit the amount of help students can receive. While my own college experience certainly corroborates this, at least anecdotally, my thoughts went first to a mentally ill man we'd recently caught shoplifting at work. When my coworkers and I stopped him he seemed docile enough (if completely delusional) but once in custody he apparently became quite agitated and made threats against the lives of the arresting officers. A man with a similar illness recently committed a murder in my neighborhood, and so the idea of this shoplifter being released worries me for the safety of those who might cross his path once he's released.
There is an old police superstition about the increase in crime and craziness around the full moon. I've heard it from my parents, from other cops, and from the family of law enforcement. I don't know if I believe this. There is a certain amount of mystery to law enforcement I suppose; there have been times when just looking at a person has told me that they're going to steal. I know my coworkers have experienced this, too. I like to think our brains are perceiving something-the aggressive gait, or the furtive looks- that our conscious minds can't identify. But, absent proof of this, I have to at least consider the possibility that maybe there is some small supernatural aspect to understanding when people are ill-intentioned or dangerous. Maybe the full moon means something. (If so, tonight's lunar eclipse is going to make the whole city nuts.)
I don't think that crazy people can be dismissed as solely a celestial phenomena. Our city (and our state, and our country) need to do more to treat the mentally ill-both to ensure public safety and to help individuals function in society. That this area seems to be the quickest to be cut during budget battles is unsettling. Reading this article about the struggle to keep students in crisis alive, I couldn't help but wonder what could possibly be more important than treating those who pose a risk to themselves or others. As I talk to my peers and appreciate how many of us are frustrated at living life constantly struggling just to get by, I can't help but sympathize with those seriously ill I encounter who aren't even doing that well. Because if it's the economy or stress or the full moon, if it's college kids or homeless schizophrenic shoplifters, we all have an interest in understanding, treating and minimizing the harm of mental illness.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
On my way to work this morning I read a New York Times report on an increase in serious mental illnesses on college campuses and corresponding budget cuts which limit the amount of help students can receive. While my own college experience certainly corroborates this, at least anecdotally, my thoughts went first to a mentally ill man we'd recently caught shoplifting at work. When my coworkers and I stopped him he seemed docile enough (if completely delusional) but once in custody he apparently became quite agitated and made threats against the lives of the arresting officers. A man with a similar illness recently committed a murder in my neighborhood, and so the idea of this shoplifter being released worries me for the safety of those who might cross his path once he's released.
There is an old police superstition about the increase in crime and craziness around the full moon. I've heard it from my parents, from other cops, and from the family of law enforcement. I don't know if I believe this. There is a certain amount of mystery to law enforcement I suppose; there have been times when just looking at a person has told me that they're going to steal. I know my coworkers have experienced this, too. I like to think our brains are perceiving something-the aggressive gait, or the furtive looks- that our conscious minds can't identify. But, absent proof of this, I have to at least consider the possibility that maybe there is some small supernatural aspect to understanding when people are ill-intentioned or dangerous. Maybe the full moon means something. (If so, tonight's lunar eclipse is going to make the whole city nuts.)
I don't think that crazy people can be dismissed as solely a celestial phenomena. Our city (and our state, and our country) need to do more to treat the mentally ill-both to ensure public safety and to help individuals function in society. That this area seems to be the quickest to be cut during budget battles is unsettling. Reading this article about the struggle to keep students in crisis alive, I couldn't help but wonder what could possibly be more important than treating those who pose a risk to themselves or others. As I talk to my peers and appreciate how many of us are frustrated at living life constantly struggling just to get by, I can't help but sympathize with those seriously ill I encounter who aren't even doing that well. Because if it's the economy or stress or the full moon, if it's college kids or homeless schizophrenic shoplifters, we all have an interest in understanding, treating and minimizing the harm of mental illness.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Saturday, December 11, 2010
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.
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.
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
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Day 327-Love actually
Dear Mr. President,
Classes were cancelled for me today, and all over the city, businesses, schools and bus routes were shut down in response to (generously) 2 inches of snow. I'll admit I love this about my city, our complete inability to function at the slitest freeze. It's a sad reality, but we don't often get weather like this, meaning that it is just more dangerous to be out. Drivers don't know what they're doing, the city doesn't have a particularly organized response, and the recognition of this danger by local officials and private employers is sort of refreshing. Instead of demanding that we brave the dangerous streets for class or work, they're just willing to put aside these interests for the sake of keeping more people safely at home. It's cute. And comforting.
My roommates and I are bundled up and trying to keep from turning the heat on as long as possible. (Being on the 5th floor helps this, but not much.) We've got both environmental and financial reasons for doing this, but, with temperatures heading to the teens overnight, I'm sure we'll have to give in before too long. We're watching Love Actually, a romantic comedy we've each seen dozens of times since it was released in theaters. (I'm still convinced this movie is the reason my mother suggested we spend Christmas 2006 in London, a trip I continue to be grateful for.) There isn't anything particularly special or profound about this movie; love conquering all is certainly not a new theme, and the cinematic wisdom of getting as many famous people as possible in one movie is questionable. But, no matter how many times we see it, no matter how many lines we quote at one another or how many songs Becca sings along with, we still love this movie. It brought us together, in a way, several years ago before we moved in together, when we gathered in their tiny studio to watch this movie and promise ourselves that particular Christmas would be good for all of us and our respective romantic interests. It was cold, the city teetering on the brink of what would later be called Snowpocalypse, a city-crippling storm that few Seattle natives had ever seen the equal of. But I remember that night and the intense, hopeful warmth that we shared as friends certain our lives could only get better if we believed hard enough.
The next day my life took a memorable turn for the worst, and snow began to fall. I can't help but associate my own downward spiral with the rapidly deteriorating weather. Even now, the very sight of snow and ice, the prospect of months of cold makes me fear another winter feeling alone and depressed. I have to choose to remember the good things- our store closing early and the staff having a snowball fight at Linda's bar. Trudging through snow to feed my mother's cats, only to have them cuddle with me by the fire in her freezing condo. Laughing with these girls before they were my roommates as we made light of the disastrous way things turned out. No matter how hopeless it seemed, it did get better. The snow melted. The city recovered. My heart mended. Getting through this winter may require that I remember this, and remember that no matter how bad things get, I still have my lovely friends.
With the country still suffering from economic depression and the prospect of the Holiday season too much for many families to handle, I hope that we all pull together and keep each other warm, keep each other sane and keep each other safe this winter. (With Republicans already set against extending unemployment benefits for those still struggling, this seems unrealistically optimistic, but whatever, Hugh Grant makes me think the world is not all selfish and terrible.) Putting others, especially those less fortunate than us, ahead of our own selfish concerns is really the kind of love that this holiday season is supposed to be about. I think that if we do that, we'll all make it through till spring in more or less one piece.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Classes were cancelled for me today, and all over the city, businesses, schools and bus routes were shut down in response to (generously) 2 inches of snow. I'll admit I love this about my city, our complete inability to function at the slitest freeze. It's a sad reality, but we don't often get weather like this, meaning that it is just more dangerous to be out. Drivers don't know what they're doing, the city doesn't have a particularly organized response, and the recognition of this danger by local officials and private employers is sort of refreshing. Instead of demanding that we brave the dangerous streets for class or work, they're just willing to put aside these interests for the sake of keeping more people safely at home. It's cute. And comforting.
My roommates and I are bundled up and trying to keep from turning the heat on as long as possible. (Being on the 5th floor helps this, but not much.) We've got both environmental and financial reasons for doing this, but, with temperatures heading to the teens overnight, I'm sure we'll have to give in before too long. We're watching Love Actually, a romantic comedy we've each seen dozens of times since it was released in theaters. (I'm still convinced this movie is the reason my mother suggested we spend Christmas 2006 in London, a trip I continue to be grateful for.) There isn't anything particularly special or profound about this movie; love conquering all is certainly not a new theme, and the cinematic wisdom of getting as many famous people as possible in one movie is questionable. But, no matter how many times we see it, no matter how many lines we quote at one another or how many songs Becca sings along with, we still love this movie. It brought us together, in a way, several years ago before we moved in together, when we gathered in their tiny studio to watch this movie and promise ourselves that particular Christmas would be good for all of us and our respective romantic interests. It was cold, the city teetering on the brink of what would later be called Snowpocalypse, a city-crippling storm that few Seattle natives had ever seen the equal of. But I remember that night and the intense, hopeful warmth that we shared as friends certain our lives could only get better if we believed hard enough.
The next day my life took a memorable turn for the worst, and snow began to fall. I can't help but associate my own downward spiral with the rapidly deteriorating weather. Even now, the very sight of snow and ice, the prospect of months of cold makes me fear another winter feeling alone and depressed. I have to choose to remember the good things- our store closing early and the staff having a snowball fight at Linda's bar. Trudging through snow to feed my mother's cats, only to have them cuddle with me by the fire in her freezing condo. Laughing with these girls before they were my roommates as we made light of the disastrous way things turned out. No matter how hopeless it seemed, it did get better. The snow melted. The city recovered. My heart mended. Getting through this winter may require that I remember this, and remember that no matter how bad things get, I still have my lovely friends.
With the country still suffering from economic depression and the prospect of the Holiday season too much for many families to handle, I hope that we all pull together and keep each other warm, keep each other sane and keep each other safe this winter. (With Republicans already set against extending unemployment benefits for those still struggling, this seems unrealistically optimistic, but whatever, Hugh Grant makes me think the world is not all selfish and terrible.) Putting others, especially those less fortunate than us, ahead of our own selfish concerns is really the kind of love that this holiday season is supposed to be about. I think that if we do that, we'll all make it through till spring in more or less one piece.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Monday, November 15, 2010
Day 319-Another Dinner Party
Dear Mr. President,
Tonight I had an unusual group of friends over who mixed surprisingly well. As I watched them from my (admittedly, slightly tipsy) view on the living room floor, I felt the happiness that usually sets in when I've spent an entire day panicking about something that has finally come to pass. There was enough food. People seemed to like the food. My room was still messy but not completely shameful. My gracious roommates, who has been warned that I'd be having a couple of people over, were not upset when almost ten showed up. One particularly appreciated guest even helped with the dishes. For all of my rushing around and worrying all day, things went better than I'd ever have guessed.
My friends are lovely people, each of them uniquely intelligent, and sensitive, and fascinating. Some I've known forever, others I'm only just discovering, and still I can't hear enough of their stories. Being able to work and associate with people who constantly interest and challenge me is one area in my life that I'm constantly grateful for. I suppose there is something to be said for the argument that all people have stories, talents, intelligence; it is possible that I could invite any random assortment of humanity and find something to learn from and something in common with any of them. But I like to imagine my friends are particularly special in their own ways.
I often worry that I do not learn enough, and especially that I do not learn fast enough. I could spend months or years getting to know the people I had dinner with tonight, and that's just a handful of the people I want to understand. Similarly, I could spend a lifetime studying the Middle East and it is just one region of a whole world I want to learn about. The thrill of appreciating just how overwhelming a task life can be is one I never cease to enjoy. (Though it does make me seriously wonder if Eric might be right about how much time I waste re-reading books.) I wonder if this is analogous to the feeling of leading the country. You hear from 10,000 individuals every day, and you'll never have time to know or contact or help all of them. You've got more than a dozen issues you could devote your presidency to and never fully solve. It's exciting and frustrating and awe-inspiring on a scale I'll likely never experience.
I think this is why I write you. You'll never know me, really, but if you somehow manage to read one of my letters, you'll know enough. And I'm sure that each of us 10,000 is interesting in our own way, but you've got enough people to worry about understanding, and way worse problems than a dinner party. I hope that you have moments like these, where, instead of being overwhelmed by it, you just stand back and appreciate the beauty of it all.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Tonight I had an unusual group of friends over who mixed surprisingly well. As I watched them from my (admittedly, slightly tipsy) view on the living room floor, I felt the happiness that usually sets in when I've spent an entire day panicking about something that has finally come to pass. There was enough food. People seemed to like the food. My room was still messy but not completely shameful. My gracious roommates, who has been warned that I'd be having a couple of people over, were not upset when almost ten showed up. One particularly appreciated guest even helped with the dishes. For all of my rushing around and worrying all day, things went better than I'd ever have guessed.
My friends are lovely people, each of them uniquely intelligent, and sensitive, and fascinating. Some I've known forever, others I'm only just discovering, and still I can't hear enough of their stories. Being able to work and associate with people who constantly interest and challenge me is one area in my life that I'm constantly grateful for. I suppose there is something to be said for the argument that all people have stories, talents, intelligence; it is possible that I could invite any random assortment of humanity and find something to learn from and something in common with any of them. But I like to imagine my friends are particularly special in their own ways.
I often worry that I do not learn enough, and especially that I do not learn fast enough. I could spend months or years getting to know the people I had dinner with tonight, and that's just a handful of the people I want to understand. Similarly, I could spend a lifetime studying the Middle East and it is just one region of a whole world I want to learn about. The thrill of appreciating just how overwhelming a task life can be is one I never cease to enjoy. (Though it does make me seriously wonder if Eric might be right about how much time I waste re-reading books.) I wonder if this is analogous to the feeling of leading the country. You hear from 10,000 individuals every day, and you'll never have time to know or contact or help all of them. You've got more than a dozen issues you could devote your presidency to and never fully solve. It's exciting and frustrating and awe-inspiring on a scale I'll likely never experience.
I think this is why I write you. You'll never know me, really, but if you somehow manage to read one of my letters, you'll know enough. And I'm sure that each of us 10,000 is interesting in our own way, but you've got enough people to worry about understanding, and way worse problems than a dinner party. I hope that you have moments like these, where, instead of being overwhelmed by it, you just stand back and appreciate the beauty of it all.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Monday, October 18, 2010
Day 291- $423
Dear Mr. President,
I just read an article on the cost of retail theft- which is, apparently, down in 2010 from 2009- and averages out to about $423 per family. This kind of makes me feel pretty awesome, not because I enjoy paying more for things because of thieves, but because I like to think I play a tiny, tiny part in making that number smaller. Especially recently. For the first few months working at my new job, I felt almost entirely useless. In the last few weeks, however, I've had some success and, with a lot of help from my coworkers, finally feel like I'm making some progress. I suppose every one just wants to feel like the work they do serves some purpose. I don't imagine I'm unique in getting a thrill at seeing my profession mentioned on CNN, or that the work we do is on par with the work of real law enforcement, but it is nice to know that we make a difference, too.
The comments posted on the article are sort of amusing. Plenty of angry commenters suggest that, in this economic climate, theft is a sane and rational response. I've encountered this mentality before, especially while working for a large corporate bookstore. Stealing from businesses (seen as wealthy) is OK, because they can afford the loss. I hear it still from thieves who shoplift while also making a purchase, citing their perception of the inflated prices as justification. (Pointing out that theft causes price inflation doesn't often have much persuasive effect in these casses.)
This bizarre rationale always makes me angry. It isn't corporate CEO's who are getting shoved, struck and even stabbed by the more violent shoplifters, it's me, my coworkers and people like us who are probably just as poor (or even more so) than many of the shoplifters. If there is one thing my job has taught me it is that everyone steals. Rich, poor, middle class. Black, white, or any color. College kids, housewives, the homeless, spoiled children looking for a thrill. Everyone steals. And, as this article illustrates, the people who pay the price for this theft are not the companies being stolen from but the consumers who pay higher prices as a result.
I feel like this mentality is reflected in the arguments against social services and, recently, health care reform. People don't seem to understand that the cost of crime and illness and suffering is passed on to all of us, one way or another. When I go to work everyday, I'm not thinking about serving any higher purpose, either. It's enough to me to enjoy what I do and to try to be decent at it. The fact that I'm also trying to save consumers more than $400 a year just kind of makes my job a little more interesting.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
I just read an article on the cost of retail theft- which is, apparently, down in 2010 from 2009- and averages out to about $423 per family. This kind of makes me feel pretty awesome, not because I enjoy paying more for things because of thieves, but because I like to think I play a tiny, tiny part in making that number smaller. Especially recently. For the first few months working at my new job, I felt almost entirely useless. In the last few weeks, however, I've had some success and, with a lot of help from my coworkers, finally feel like I'm making some progress. I suppose every one just wants to feel like the work they do serves some purpose. I don't imagine I'm unique in getting a thrill at seeing my profession mentioned on CNN, or that the work we do is on par with the work of real law enforcement, but it is nice to know that we make a difference, too.
The comments posted on the article are sort of amusing. Plenty of angry commenters suggest that, in this economic climate, theft is a sane and rational response. I've encountered this mentality before, especially while working for a large corporate bookstore. Stealing from businesses (seen as wealthy) is OK, because they can afford the loss. I hear it still from thieves who shoplift while also making a purchase, citing their perception of the inflated prices as justification. (Pointing out that theft causes price inflation doesn't often have much persuasive effect in these casses.)
This bizarre rationale always makes me angry. It isn't corporate CEO's who are getting shoved, struck and even stabbed by the more violent shoplifters, it's me, my coworkers and people like us who are probably just as poor (or even more so) than many of the shoplifters. If there is one thing my job has taught me it is that everyone steals. Rich, poor, middle class. Black, white, or any color. College kids, housewives, the homeless, spoiled children looking for a thrill. Everyone steals. And, as this article illustrates, the people who pay the price for this theft are not the companies being stolen from but the consumers who pay higher prices as a result.
I feel like this mentality is reflected in the arguments against social services and, recently, health care reform. People don't seem to understand that the cost of crime and illness and suffering is passed on to all of us, one way or another. When I go to work everyday, I'm not thinking about serving any higher purpose, either. It's enough to me to enjoy what I do and to try to be decent at it. The fact that I'm also trying to save consumers more than $400 a year just kind of makes my job a little more interesting.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Monday, October 11, 2010
Day 284-Politics and our obligations to others
Dear Mr. President,
As tragic stories of youth suicide continue to dominate headlines and conversations, I am hearing more and more questions about the extent of our responsibility for another person's actions. Can an individual be bullied to death, and, if so, can the bullies be held responsible? I don't think that suicide is an act that generally occurs as a response to an isolated event or individual. The smaller problems that pile up and eventually overwhelm a person may never be cited as a reason for suicide but can play an equally significant role. So while Carl Paladino's very public and very bigoted remarks may not, on their own, drive any gay youths to take their own lives, he, and others like him, play a role in creating the hostile environment that feeds bullies and overwhelms struggling teens. (That he made his remarks in the wake of a series of brutal hate crimes against gay men in New York City makes his ignorance even more appalling.)
Back in January of this year I wrote to you about a friend who had taken his own life as a high schooler. It's been more than 8 years and I still find myself questioning the way I treated him, the way I spoke to him, and how much responsibility I bear for his death. It's the kind of haunting doubts that no amount of reassurance will ever relieve. This recent national conversation about teen suicide and bullying has brought all of these old feelings to the surface once again. I feel like my life since I turned 16 has been an ongoing struggle to use my guilt toward better, more compassionate and more useful ends. My inclination toward wallowing helps no one, unless I apply that grief toward improving the way I treat others.
Similarly, our national reaction to these recent suicides is equally meaningless if we don't allow these feelings to lead to anything more helpful than shock, grief and outrage. It is easy to lay blame for these deaths on those who failed in their obligations to these young people as individuals. We do have a responsibility for the way we treat the people, which is obvious enough with those we encounter directly. But we seem to neglect that obligation when it comes to those we don't. For me, this is where the political becomes personal. Our values, our policies, our acceptance of or indifference to discrimination and bigotry all contribute to the very personal tragedies of those dead children. Paladino can spew his hateful remarks at a concept ("homosexuality" or "the homosexual lifestyle") and, because he isn't speaking about individuals, it becomes socially acceptable. (He has since even laughably tried to insist he isn't homophobic, and assertion he'll be allowed to make because people believe he attacked a concept and not a person or people.) But no matter how any one spins it, what Paladino said is just as hateful, just as damaging, and just as unfit for American political discourse as the words of the bullies who pick on an individual child for being gay. The words have the same source and the same consequence, the only difference being that one is taken, at worst, as a political misstep, while the other is potential grounds for legal action. This disconnect is not reserved for gay rights issues; children are bullied for looking, talking, or acting different, for being poor, for being immigrants or the children of immigrants. In a country where being an ethnic or religious minority, an immigrant, or dependent upon social services for survival are constantly vilified or shamed in political discourse, I don't think it's a stretch to say that our children are learning their bullying behaviors from accepted national prejudices.
I've been lucky, for the most part, in that my life has been helped along by a number of caring and compassionate strangers. People who have treated me with kindness and compassion far outnumber the ones who have been hurtful or sexist or willfully cruel. I think that while bullying and cruelty may be inevitable facts of human nature, we generally want to be responsible in the way we treat one another. We want to be kind to their neighbors and the people they encounter in daily life. Which is why, for example, opponents of gay rights often cite their own gay friends/relatives/employees/acquaintances as evidence that they don't hate gay people, they're just talking politics. We have a much easier time discriminating against concepts or groups than individuals. But I don't think this relieves us from the obligations we have to other people, even if we never meet them, even if we never know their names. While I'm not saying that any one opposing gay marriage should be held accountable for the deaths of gay teens, I do feel that they shouldn't be allowed to avoid an appreciation for the real implications of their positions. They aren't just taking a side in a political debate; they are advocating a legal and social bias against people, against the very same friends and relatives they ostensibly treat with compassion and kindness.
So while we continue to grapple with the question of how much responsibility a bully bears for the actions of the bullied, I think we all ought to examine our own words and actions and the role they play in the long-standing and ongoing struggle faced by children and young people who are different. We have to keep our political positions in perspective, to reflect on the way the abstract translates to the tangible, individual, personal consequences. Because I believe that we can all do a better job of tending to one another, of making the already difficult undertaking of growing up just a little bit easier on every one.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
As tragic stories of youth suicide continue to dominate headlines and conversations, I am hearing more and more questions about the extent of our responsibility for another person's actions. Can an individual be bullied to death, and, if so, can the bullies be held responsible? I don't think that suicide is an act that generally occurs as a response to an isolated event or individual. The smaller problems that pile up and eventually overwhelm a person may never be cited as a reason for suicide but can play an equally significant role. So while Carl Paladino's very public and very bigoted remarks may not, on their own, drive any gay youths to take their own lives, he, and others like him, play a role in creating the hostile environment that feeds bullies and overwhelms struggling teens. (That he made his remarks in the wake of a series of brutal hate crimes against gay men in New York City makes his ignorance even more appalling.)
Back in January of this year I wrote to you about a friend who had taken his own life as a high schooler. It's been more than 8 years and I still find myself questioning the way I treated him, the way I spoke to him, and how much responsibility I bear for his death. It's the kind of haunting doubts that no amount of reassurance will ever relieve. This recent national conversation about teen suicide and bullying has brought all of these old feelings to the surface once again. I feel like my life since I turned 16 has been an ongoing struggle to use my guilt toward better, more compassionate and more useful ends. My inclination toward wallowing helps no one, unless I apply that grief toward improving the way I treat others.
Similarly, our national reaction to these recent suicides is equally meaningless if we don't allow these feelings to lead to anything more helpful than shock, grief and outrage. It is easy to lay blame for these deaths on those who failed in their obligations to these young people as individuals. We do have a responsibility for the way we treat the people, which is obvious enough with those we encounter directly. But we seem to neglect that obligation when it comes to those we don't. For me, this is where the political becomes personal. Our values, our policies, our acceptance of or indifference to discrimination and bigotry all contribute to the very personal tragedies of those dead children. Paladino can spew his hateful remarks at a concept ("homosexuality" or "the homosexual lifestyle") and, because he isn't speaking about individuals, it becomes socially acceptable. (He has since even laughably tried to insist he isn't homophobic, and assertion he'll be allowed to make because people believe he attacked a concept and not a person or people.) But no matter how any one spins it, what Paladino said is just as hateful, just as damaging, and just as unfit for American political discourse as the words of the bullies who pick on an individual child for being gay. The words have the same source and the same consequence, the only difference being that one is taken, at worst, as a political misstep, while the other is potential grounds for legal action. This disconnect is not reserved for gay rights issues; children are bullied for looking, talking, or acting different, for being poor, for being immigrants or the children of immigrants. In a country where being an ethnic or religious minority, an immigrant, or dependent upon social services for survival are constantly vilified or shamed in political discourse, I don't think it's a stretch to say that our children are learning their bullying behaviors from accepted national prejudices.
I've been lucky, for the most part, in that my life has been helped along by a number of caring and compassionate strangers. People who have treated me with kindness and compassion far outnumber the ones who have been hurtful or sexist or willfully cruel. I think that while bullying and cruelty may be inevitable facts of human nature, we generally want to be responsible in the way we treat one another. We want to be kind to their neighbors and the people they encounter in daily life. Which is why, for example, opponents of gay rights often cite their own gay friends/relatives/employees/acquaintances as evidence that they don't hate gay people, they're just talking politics. We have a much easier time discriminating against concepts or groups than individuals. But I don't think this relieves us from the obligations we have to other people, even if we never meet them, even if we never know their names. While I'm not saying that any one opposing gay marriage should be held accountable for the deaths of gay teens, I do feel that they shouldn't be allowed to avoid an appreciation for the real implications of their positions. They aren't just taking a side in a political debate; they are advocating a legal and social bias against people, against the very same friends and relatives they ostensibly treat with compassion and kindness.
So while we continue to grapple with the question of how much responsibility a bully bears for the actions of the bullied, I think we all ought to examine our own words and actions and the role they play in the long-standing and ongoing struggle faced by children and young people who are different. We have to keep our political positions in perspective, to reflect on the way the abstract translates to the tangible, individual, personal consequences. Because I believe that we can all do a better job of tending to one another, of making the already difficult undertaking of growing up just a little bit easier on every one.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Day 278- $75
Dear Mr. President,
Ok, I guess I'm a socialist. Better Red than Dead. I should probably just break down and get Lenin's face tattooed on my bicep. What can I say, I'm hopelessly pro-firefighting. And, call me unreasonable, but I think firefighting services should be available, for free, for every person in America, regardless of where they live or if they are rich, poor, middle class or even Republican. If Dino Rosi's house is on fire, I really don't mind if some of the taxes I paid this year go toward putting it out. I know we don't really have HUAC any more, but I'm sure Michele Bachmann can whip something up to take care of me, right?
I'm writing in reference to a house fire in Tennessee. Because one home owner failed to pay the $75 rural residents are required to pay per year for firefighting services, his house burned to the ground. The man offered to pay for any expenses the firefighters might incur, and he was refused. The firefighters put out the part of the blaze that spread to his fee-paying neighbor's home, but sat outside in trucks with the necessary equipment to save his home and watched it burn.
If there's one policy area where you'd think that people could come together on, firefighting seems like it ought to be a strong contender. I do understand that this man's house was outside of city limits and so the fee for protecting him was to make up for the fact that his taxes didn't fund the fire department as those of city residents did. I get this. But when the moment comes and the firefighters are faced with a fire and don't put it out over $75, well, I think that something important is being missed. Emergency services should help people first, and worry about jurisdiction or expense after. Send the homeowner a bill, for God's sake. The fact that some people on the right are suggesting this man had it coming really upsets me. Forgive me, but what the hell kind of country is this? Whatever happened to love thy neighbor? Also, not to continually kick the issue of federal defense spending, but maybe if we were spending less money burning other countries to the ground, state and local emergency services wouldn't be quite so strapped for cash. Maybe we should apply this logic at the Federal level and stop offering tax evaders the services of the Federal government. Cease their mail delivery, refuse to allow them to fly or drive on federal highways and deny them Social Security.
While I may decry the policies that led to this, I have to indict the behavior of the firefighters themselves, as well. We have an obligation to help one another to the best of our abilities, on the clock or off. I don't have a whole lot of useful skills, but when I saw an old woman being assaulted at the bus stop, I stepped in to stop her assailant. Because I could. Because I have the training and the ability. My coworker is red-cross certified in First Aid, and you can bet he'd be the first to step up in a medical emergency, regardless of his likelihood of being compensated. My roommate speaks Spanish and will step up to translate for customers struggling to be understood. We all have skills and abilities and we all have a moral obligation to use those skills to help one another. These firefighters were trained professionals with the equipment (and also the time) to help put out the fire in this man's house and they refused to. That's shameful as public servants and shameful as human beings. Conservatives can spin and wring their hands and quote Ayn Rand all they want; at the end of the day there is right and there is wrong, damn it, and sometimes we're lucky enough know the difference.
So paint me red and call me comrade, because I guess I've been a socialist all along.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Ok, I guess I'm a socialist. Better Red than Dead. I should probably just break down and get Lenin's face tattooed on my bicep. What can I say, I'm hopelessly pro-firefighting. And, call me unreasonable, but I think firefighting services should be available, for free, for every person in America, regardless of where they live or if they are rich, poor, middle class or even Republican. If Dino Rosi's house is on fire, I really don't mind if some of the taxes I paid this year go toward putting it out. I know we don't really have HUAC any more, but I'm sure Michele Bachmann can whip something up to take care of me, right?
I'm writing in reference to a house fire in Tennessee. Because one home owner failed to pay the $75 rural residents are required to pay per year for firefighting services, his house burned to the ground. The man offered to pay for any expenses the firefighters might incur, and he was refused. The firefighters put out the part of the blaze that spread to his fee-paying neighbor's home, but sat outside in trucks with the necessary equipment to save his home and watched it burn.
If there's one policy area where you'd think that people could come together on, firefighting seems like it ought to be a strong contender. I do understand that this man's house was outside of city limits and so the fee for protecting him was to make up for the fact that his taxes didn't fund the fire department as those of city residents did. I get this. But when the moment comes and the firefighters are faced with a fire and don't put it out over $75, well, I think that something important is being missed. Emergency services should help people first, and worry about jurisdiction or expense after. Send the homeowner a bill, for God's sake. The fact that some people on the right are suggesting this man had it coming really upsets me. Forgive me, but what the hell kind of country is this? Whatever happened to love thy neighbor? Also, not to continually kick the issue of federal defense spending, but maybe if we were spending less money burning other countries to the ground, state and local emergency services wouldn't be quite so strapped for cash. Maybe we should apply this logic at the Federal level and stop offering tax evaders the services of the Federal government. Cease their mail delivery, refuse to allow them to fly or drive on federal highways and deny them Social Security.
While I may decry the policies that led to this, I have to indict the behavior of the firefighters themselves, as well. We have an obligation to help one another to the best of our abilities, on the clock or off. I don't have a whole lot of useful skills, but when I saw an old woman being assaulted at the bus stop, I stepped in to stop her assailant. Because I could. Because I have the training and the ability. My coworker is red-cross certified in First Aid, and you can bet he'd be the first to step up in a medical emergency, regardless of his likelihood of being compensated. My roommate speaks Spanish and will step up to translate for customers struggling to be understood. We all have skills and abilities and we all have a moral obligation to use those skills to help one another. These firefighters were trained professionals with the equipment (and also the time) to help put out the fire in this man's house and they refused to. That's shameful as public servants and shameful as human beings. Conservatives can spin and wring their hands and quote Ayn Rand all they want; at the end of the day there is right and there is wrong, damn it, and sometimes we're lucky enough know the difference.
So paint me red and call me comrade, because I guess I've been a socialist all along.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Day 265- Mere Charity
So let’s put to rest the old myth that development is mere charity that does not serve our interests. And let’s reject the cynicism that says certain countries are condemned to perpetual poverty, for the past half century has witnessed more gains in human development than at any time in history. A disease that had ravaged the generations, smallpox, was eradicated. Health care has reached the far corners of the world, saving the lives of millions. From Latin America to Africa to Asia, developing nations have transformed into leaders in the global economy.
-President Barack Obama, 9/22/2010
Dear Mr. President,
In your remarks at the UN today, you made several points about the way that progress toward a stable and more just world for all is prudent for the national security interests of America and wealthy nations everywhere. I think you're right about this. Achieving the Millenium Development Goals is more than a moral obligation- it's in the our own interest. Which is why it is so disappointing to hear words like this in direct contrast with the way we appropriate funds to support these goals. Spending as much as we do each year on wars against two countries that have little to no basic social services, education or infrastructure seems like maybe we've lost sight of the whole idea behind the MDGs. If you really believe that our national interests are served by fighting poverty, suffering and disillusionment, why do you keep spending so much of our national budget on the tools of war?
You're right about the way this discussion needs to be framed- no act of charity is performed without self-interest. Having a frank conversation with the American people about our interests and the best way to serve them is long overdue. Waging wars might make us feel better, it might create the illusion of progress in a society demanding instant gratification, but I think you know it doesn't server our long-term interests. And while you may safely express this sentiment in remarks to the UN, you have little hope of being heard over the din off a Tea Party rally or town hall full of the angry and the afraid. People may not want to be told that they're wrong, that they have to wait to see the results of our current policies, that they have to work and help and change themselves if our country is going to remain in our position of global leadership over the next few generations. But I think people will always respond better to being told the truth, to be spoken to like adults, than coddled and told only what pleases them. Saying to the American people that economic development, increasing access to education and improving the rights and freedoms of people around the world is the best way to fight terrorism requires more than just words; the way we spend our money also has to change if the MDGs are ever going to be achieved or if the world is ever going to believe that America is serious about our commitments to justice, equality and opportunity for those without it.
This logic should also be applied domestically. Welfare, unemployment benefits, health care- none of it is "mere charity". These social services that protect Americans when they are the most vulnerable help keep our economy and our society more stable. This basic principle- that doing right by the least among us makes all of us stronger- is also not something Americans always want to hear. But I don't think you ran for President to lie to us, and I don't think you ran because it sounded like a fun gig. Americans have to learn to wait, to invest in our long-term interests and stop looking for the quick-fix that only makes us feel better. Until we have a leader willing to tell us that we're never going to make the changes necessary to make the goals for 2015 anything more than optimistic fantasy.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
-President Barack Obama, 9/22/2010
Dear Mr. President,
In your remarks at the UN today, you made several points about the way that progress toward a stable and more just world for all is prudent for the national security interests of America and wealthy nations everywhere. I think you're right about this. Achieving the Millenium Development Goals is more than a moral obligation- it's in the our own interest. Which is why it is so disappointing to hear words like this in direct contrast with the way we appropriate funds to support these goals. Spending as much as we do each year on wars against two countries that have little to no basic social services, education or infrastructure seems like maybe we've lost sight of the whole idea behind the MDGs. If you really believe that our national interests are served by fighting poverty, suffering and disillusionment, why do you keep spending so much of our national budget on the tools of war?
You're right about the way this discussion needs to be framed- no act of charity is performed without self-interest. Having a frank conversation with the American people about our interests and the best way to serve them is long overdue. Waging wars might make us feel better, it might create the illusion of progress in a society demanding instant gratification, but I think you know it doesn't server our long-term interests. And while you may safely express this sentiment in remarks to the UN, you have little hope of being heard over the din off a Tea Party rally or town hall full of the angry and the afraid. People may not want to be told that they're wrong, that they have to wait to see the results of our current policies, that they have to work and help and change themselves if our country is going to remain in our position of global leadership over the next few generations. But I think people will always respond better to being told the truth, to be spoken to like adults, than coddled and told only what pleases them. Saying to the American people that economic development, increasing access to education and improving the rights and freedoms of people around the world is the best way to fight terrorism requires more than just words; the way we spend our money also has to change if the MDGs are ever going to be achieved or if the world is ever going to believe that America is serious about our commitments to justice, equality and opportunity for those without it.
This logic should also be applied domestically. Welfare, unemployment benefits, health care- none of it is "mere charity". These social services that protect Americans when they are the most vulnerable help keep our economy and our society more stable. This basic principle- that doing right by the least among us makes all of us stronger- is also not something Americans always want to hear. But I don't think you ran for President to lie to us, and I don't think you ran because it sounded like a fun gig. Americans have to learn to wait, to invest in our long-term interests and stop looking for the quick-fix that only makes us feel better. Until we have a leader willing to tell us that we're never going to make the changes necessary to make the goals for 2015 anything more than optimistic fantasy.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Day 236- An Experiment (part 2)
Dear Mr. President,
Today I spent 5 hours standing on the corner of 4th and Pine in downtown, with a sign encouraging people to support Park 51. I had fun. I met a number of interesting people. I heard more 9/11 conspiracy theories than I previously knew existed. One woman suggested I breathe in Christ and stop worshipping Satan. A couple of people got angry enough to curse me out for what my sign said. Part of my message was for you; it said "Dear Mr. President, don't back down!" This got some surprising responses. One woman told me she was happy to see that I still had faith in you. One man said he didn't think you had the strength to stand up to the right. Mostly people just smiled and said "thank you."
I'm not sure that I changed any minds. The ones who wanted to argue usually didn't stop to talk things over. A few people weren't aware of the controversy and listened to me patiently. But I think it would be disingenuous to say that I was out there for them. What made the day great were all of the people who already agreed with me. As strangers, we keep our politics secret, we rarely recognize these important beliefs and values in others. Having it out in public for any one to see means that for 5 hours today I, and those people who saw their own views in what I was saying, felt connected. Even in a country controlled by Democrats, liberals don't always feel like we're part of a larger group. The taking heads on TV, the values proclaimed by many politicians, even the constraints of polite conversation often make it seem like we're the outsiders. I finally get the purpose of these demonstrations- it isn't to change minds, it's to let our allies know that they do not stand alone.
Besides dramatically increasing my chances of getting skin cancer, I don't think I did any one any harm. If I made any one's day just a little bit better, that's great, but I'm certainly convinced this did a world of good for me. I wasn't hiding behind my computer screen, I wasn't shying away from the ones who got angry or from their arguments. I felt confident in what I believe and what I was standing for. Several people suggested that I needed to be part of a group or organization, but I think that I work best when I don't have to worry about representing any one but myself.
Anyway, Mr. President, the only thing I can offer you today is the same boost I got from every shy smile, every thumbs up and high five, every thank you and every stranger who said keep it up, sister. That small promise that however hard the work has become, you don't do it alone, and you don't do it in vain.
So thank you, Mr. President. Keep up the good work. I think that you're brave, and I'm glad that you're doing so much for this country. It makes me hopeful. I don't always agree with you, but I hope you know you're not alone.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
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Today I spent 5 hours standing on the corner of 4th and Pine in downtown, with a sign encouraging people to support Park 51. I had fun. I met a number of interesting people. I heard more 9/11 conspiracy theories than I previously knew existed. One woman suggested I breathe in Christ and stop worshipping Satan. A couple of people got angry enough to curse me out for what my sign said. Part of my message was for you; it said "Dear Mr. President, don't back down!" This got some surprising responses. One woman told me she was happy to see that I still had faith in you. One man said he didn't think you had the strength to stand up to the right. Mostly people just smiled and said "thank you."
I'm not sure that I changed any minds. The ones who wanted to argue usually didn't stop to talk things over. A few people weren't aware of the controversy and listened to me patiently. But I think it would be disingenuous to say that I was out there for them. What made the day great were all of the people who already agreed with me. As strangers, we keep our politics secret, we rarely recognize these important beliefs and values in others. Having it out in public for any one to see means that for 5 hours today I, and those people who saw their own views in what I was saying, felt connected. Even in a country controlled by Democrats, liberals don't always feel like we're part of a larger group. The taking heads on TV, the values proclaimed by many politicians, even the constraints of polite conversation often make it seem like we're the outsiders. I finally get the purpose of these demonstrations- it isn't to change minds, it's to let our allies know that they do not stand alone.
Besides dramatically increasing my chances of getting skin cancer, I don't think I did any one any harm. If I made any one's day just a little bit better, that's great, but I'm certainly convinced this did a world of good for me. I wasn't hiding behind my computer screen, I wasn't shying away from the ones who got angry or from their arguments. I felt confident in what I believe and what I was standing for. Several people suggested that I needed to be part of a group or organization, but I think that I work best when I don't have to worry about representing any one but myself.
Anyway, Mr. President, the only thing I can offer you today is the same boost I got from every shy smile, every thumbs up and high five, every thank you and every stranger who said keep it up, sister. That small promise that however hard the work has become, you don't do it alone, and you don't do it in vain.
So thank you, Mr. President. Keep up the good work. I think that you're brave, and I'm glad that you're doing so much for this country. It makes me hopeful. I don't always agree with you, but I hope you know you're not alone.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
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Sunday, August 22, 2010
Day 234- An experiment
Hey Seattlites-if you want to see me on Tuesday (8/24) I'm planning on being at Westlake park from whenever I wake up until about 3pm. Come say hi. Don't be surprised if I'm sunburnt and cranky.
Dear Mr. President,
Feeling strongly about an issue or cause will often prompt me to talk or to write about it. I'll sign petitions, write letters to the editor, or (as you've probably noticed) contact elected officials. This is usually the extent of my political activism. When I worked downtown, I often noticed the park across the street from my bookstore full of protestors. They demonstrated in support of, or in opposition to health care, immigration rights, marriage equality for gay and lesbian couples, the Israeli occupation of Palestine, War, the WTO, police brutality, and the economic practices of the federal government or the state of Washington. A few just wanted to let people know that the end times are near and that we should probably repent all of our sins. On one notable occasion, people gathered to show their support for Conan O'Brien. Anyway, I almost always ignored or rolled my eyes at these groups, even the ones I agree with. It just seemed so silly to stand outside all day with little hope of accomplishing anything tangible.
Lately I've been questioning my own lack of tangible accomplishments, feeling like maybe I hide behind my computer screen too much. Sure, I'm brave when it comes to typing really, really angrily, but am I willing to stand up, to show my face, and to physically demonstrate my support for an issue? I honestly don't know. To that end, I'm going to attempt an experiment. In two days, the demonstrators downtown will be getting some company. Tomorrow I'll be making a sign, and maybe some fliers to hand out in explanation of what I'm doing, and Tuesday I'll be out on the street to show my support for Park 51. I've picked this issue in response to the widespread demonstrations against Park 51 and mosques across the country, and because of the disturbing opinion polls that indicate many Americans are actually being persuaded by the right's manipulative rhetoric against Park 51 and its supporters. Religious freedom is an essential American value and I think that even non-New Yorkers need to demonstrate our support for the rights of this organization, if only to counteract the shrill and hateful words of the other side. People in this country and around the world need to know that Americans stand for religious freedom for every one.
Maybe I won't change any minds. Maybe I'll leave Tuesday feeling like I was right about all those other protestors and the futility of their methods. I think I at least need to experience it for myself before I judge others, before I feel confident claiming that my own relatively anonymous attempts at contributing to the political discourse are good enough. If I can't stand up and look people in the eye while I express my beliefs, I probably need to consider how courageous my convictions really are. I know I'm constantly harping on you to have more political courage, to be honest and say things that people don't want to hear; consider this my attempt to practice just a little of what I've been preaching.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Dear Mr. President,
Feeling strongly about an issue or cause will often prompt me to talk or to write about it. I'll sign petitions, write letters to the editor, or (as you've probably noticed) contact elected officials. This is usually the extent of my political activism. When I worked downtown, I often noticed the park across the street from my bookstore full of protestors. They demonstrated in support of, or in opposition to health care, immigration rights, marriage equality for gay and lesbian couples, the Israeli occupation of Palestine, War, the WTO, police brutality, and the economic practices of the federal government or the state of Washington. A few just wanted to let people know that the end times are near and that we should probably repent all of our sins. On one notable occasion, people gathered to show their support for Conan O'Brien. Anyway, I almost always ignored or rolled my eyes at these groups, even the ones I agree with. It just seemed so silly to stand outside all day with little hope of accomplishing anything tangible.
Lately I've been questioning my own lack of tangible accomplishments, feeling like maybe I hide behind my computer screen too much. Sure, I'm brave when it comes to typing really, really angrily, but am I willing to stand up, to show my face, and to physically demonstrate my support for an issue? I honestly don't know. To that end, I'm going to attempt an experiment. In two days, the demonstrators downtown will be getting some company. Tomorrow I'll be making a sign, and maybe some fliers to hand out in explanation of what I'm doing, and Tuesday I'll be out on the street to show my support for Park 51. I've picked this issue in response to the widespread demonstrations against Park 51 and mosques across the country, and because of the disturbing opinion polls that indicate many Americans are actually being persuaded by the right's manipulative rhetoric against Park 51 and its supporters. Religious freedom is an essential American value and I think that even non-New Yorkers need to demonstrate our support for the rights of this organization, if only to counteract the shrill and hateful words of the other side. People in this country and around the world need to know that Americans stand for religious freedom for every one.
Maybe I won't change any minds. Maybe I'll leave Tuesday feeling like I was right about all those other protestors and the futility of their methods. I think I at least need to experience it for myself before I judge others, before I feel confident claiming that my own relatively anonymous attempts at contributing to the political discourse are good enough. If I can't stand up and look people in the eye while I express my beliefs, I probably need to consider how courageous my convictions really are. I know I'm constantly harping on you to have more political courage, to be honest and say things that people don't want to hear; consider this my attempt to practice just a little of what I've been preaching.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Friday, August 20, 2010
Day 232-Tourism for a better world
The Church of the Holy Sepulchre.
The market in Hebron
The Tree of Life
St. George
Dome of the Rock
Dear Mr. President,
Tony Blair recently suggested that more people visit the West Bank as a means to supporting the peace process. Visiting Palestine, stimulating the economy by enjoying local food and crafts and services, witnessing firsthand the hospitality of many Palestinians- these are all small steps toward better understanding and communication. I loved my own time there, and I can't wait to go back. But I've also lived in tourist destinations. The complicated relationship between a place, its people, and the people who just come for vacation. Try riding the Metro during summer time in DC. The strict order of things breaks down. Suddenly no one knows that you stand on once side of the escalator, walk on the other. Lines get longer, crowds get bigger. I remember days when I couldn't go from my metro stop to work without being asked for directions several times. Even here in Seattle, Pike Place Market swells with visitors as soon as the warm weather starts.
Local business depend upon these visitors to eat at restaurants, fill hotel rooms, and purchase absurd souvenirs. But Tourists often treat their destinations like personal playgrounds, with no regard for local customs or culture, no respect for the people paid to serve them, and no concern for the long-term interests of the city. They come, they consume, they go. Tourism might be a great way to promote cross-cultural understanding, but I wonder if this can be done without fundamentally changing the places we visit.
If you join Tony Blair in encouraging Americans to travel to the Middle East- to ease tensions through casual, non-political interaction- I think that you should do so with caution. Americans should travel to other countries, we should learn about other cultures and we should try to experience life outside of our own comfortable perceptions of reality. But we should do what we can to mitigate the harmful influence we might have, by respecting the people, and the environments that we visit. I think that Tony Blair's heart is in the right place, that we can do more good traveling and learning from one another than we can with bullets and bombs and economic sanctions. I hope that people take his advice and explore the beautiful and hospitable places in Palestine that I fell in love with two years ago.
And, if they have layovers in DC, I hope that people learn which side of the escalator is for standing.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
If any of my readers are interested in going to Palestine, please consider doing so with The Abraham Path Initiative or The Siraj Center. If you'd like to donate to projects that help others travel to Palestine, please visit Global Giving.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Day 228- Net Neutrality, or how I wax poetic about the Internet
For those who don't read my facebook and want a good laugh check out these comments from yesterday and Day 205. I'm gettin' schooled by a "real American"
OFA seems really concerned that I might not vote. For the record, even if I think this pledge is absurd, I encourage all of my readers to vote in every election, and I will be voting in 2010. If only OFA could provide some decently progressive candidates for me to vote for....
Dear Mr. President,
The amount of information we put out about ourselves on the internet makes it possible to feel like the people online might actually understand who we are. I often make the mistake of forgetting how easily I can be misunderstood, or how easily I can be found by those I would rather not find me. What we post on the internet feels anonymous, even as we risk exposure we cannot control. Angry, thoughtless words, outrageous opinions, even revealing photos all sent out for public consumption, haunting us when we least expect it. I believe these risks are the price I pay for whatever small role I play in the great abyss of the online community. For my connection to that unimaginably immense world. As your campaign continues to demonstrate, the internet can also be a powerful tool to organize, to bring people together. It's ability to empower individuals even when they are isolated physically to connect with others, to teach and learn from one another, has forever altered the way we approach the world.
Whatever the internet is or represents, its neutrality should not be threatened. The internet should not be governed by corporations, access should not be dictated by money or influence. Defending net neutrality was an important promise of your campaign and one you cannot afford to break. Congressman Jay Inslee has come out strongly in defense of net neutrality while discussing the recent Google/Verizon deal:
The internet is complex and challenging and maybe the most important technology of our time. Whatever it is, and whatever it will be, its power and beauty is a direct reflection of humanity's diverse and complicated nature, the unique strength, talent and genius that every person has to contribute. Keeping access to innovation and information free and equal is essential to keeping all of us free and equal. I have almost lost hope that we can wrest even this small part of our lives away from complete corporate exploitation; that money and power can't control the truth. If we trade away this freedom piece by piece to the highest bidder we will never get it back. We elected you to make sure this doesn't happen, and I hope that you don't let us down.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
OFA seems really concerned that I might not vote. For the record, even if I think this pledge is absurd, I encourage all of my readers to vote in every election, and I will be voting in 2010. If only OFA could provide some decently progressive candidates for me to vote for....
Dear Mr. President,
The amount of information we put out about ourselves on the internet makes it possible to feel like the people online might actually understand who we are. I often make the mistake of forgetting how easily I can be misunderstood, or how easily I can be found by those I would rather not find me. What we post on the internet feels anonymous, even as we risk exposure we cannot control. Angry, thoughtless words, outrageous opinions, even revealing photos all sent out for public consumption, haunting us when we least expect it. I believe these risks are the price I pay for whatever small role I play in the great abyss of the online community. For my connection to that unimaginably immense world. As your campaign continues to demonstrate, the internet can also be a powerful tool to organize, to bring people together. It's ability to empower individuals even when they are isolated physically to connect with others, to teach and learn from one another, has forever altered the way we approach the world.
Whatever the internet is or represents, its neutrality should not be threatened. The internet should not be governed by corporations, access should not be dictated by money or influence. Defending net neutrality was an important promise of your campaign and one you cannot afford to break. Congressman Jay Inslee has come out strongly in defense of net neutrality while discussing the recent Google/Verizon deal:
Google and Verizon are businesses trying to make a buck -- I guess that's their job. But it's now time members of Congress stand with me and tell the FCC to do its job.Mr. Inslee is right- private companies have to tend to their profits, not to the interests of the people. The internet is too personal to be manipulated this way. This is a topic that has been explored far more eloquently by several (better-informed) writers than myself, and I hope that you are paying attention to them, and to laymen like me who just want to add our voices to the demand that our access continue without manipulation. As I'm sure you know, this isn't just the right thing to do; a grassroots group like Organizing for America couldn't capitalize on the power of individuals connecting and organizing online if corporations are allowed to bid for the best access to that power. Net neutrality is essential to a modern and free America- and I'm sure you know that re-election in 2012 will not be possible for you without it.
The internet is complex and challenging and maybe the most important technology of our time. Whatever it is, and whatever it will be, its power and beauty is a direct reflection of humanity's diverse and complicated nature, the unique strength, talent and genius that every person has to contribute. Keeping access to innovation and information free and equal is essential to keeping all of us free and equal. I have almost lost hope that we can wrest even this small part of our lives away from complete corporate exploitation; that money and power can't control the truth. If we trade away this freedom piece by piece to the highest bidder we will never get it back. We elected you to make sure this doesn't happen, and I hope that you don't let us down.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Day 222- Why I'm fasting for Ramadan
Dear Mr. President,
For Muslims living in America, Ramadan begins tonight at sunset. I've observed the month-long fast before, but it has been several years. I've decided to do so again this year for a number of reasons, but chief among them is my desire to demonstrate solidarity with Muslims. While I doubt very much that it has ever been an entirely comfortable thing to be an American Muslim, especially since the post-9/11 increase in Islamophobia, the level of antipathy toward Muslims in America seems to be on the rise this year. From opposition to the Cordoba House community center, to anti-Mosque demonstrations across the country, displaying bigotry toward our Muslim neighbors has become disturbingly acceptable. The Tea-Party has called upon its members to demonstrate against mosques being built in their areas, urging them to bring dogs, bibles and the American flag as symbols of their opposition. In Florida, on Septmeber 11th, one minister is proposing to burn Qurans.
That this is happening in my own country makes me sick. When it is considered along with European countries proposing laws to ban Burkas in public areas, the continued siege of Gaza, the destruction of Palestinian homes in the West Bank, and the continued slaughter of civilians by coalition forces and the Taliban alike in Afghanistan, it is clear to me that many Muslims around the world are suffering because of their faith. I don't think it will fix anything to fast along side them for a month. My symbolic gesture of solidarity is meant to say that I will not look the other way while fellow human beings are maligned and persecuted for their faith. And it may not do any good, but in my general state of powerlessness, it feels better than doing nothing.
So today I've visited my favorite bakery, deli, coffee shop and grocery store, all in preparation for the fast. It will be a challenge, but I figure if Minnesota Vikings Safety Husain Abdullah can do it and still play professional football, I can probably manage just fine.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
For Muslims living in America, Ramadan begins tonight at sunset. I've observed the month-long fast before, but it has been several years. I've decided to do so again this year for a number of reasons, but chief among them is my desire to demonstrate solidarity with Muslims. While I doubt very much that it has ever been an entirely comfortable thing to be an American Muslim, especially since the post-9/11 increase in Islamophobia, the level of antipathy toward Muslims in America seems to be on the rise this year. From opposition to the Cordoba House community center, to anti-Mosque demonstrations across the country, displaying bigotry toward our Muslim neighbors has become disturbingly acceptable. The Tea-Party has called upon its members to demonstrate against mosques being built in their areas, urging them to bring dogs, bibles and the American flag as symbols of their opposition. In Florida, on Septmeber 11th, one minister is proposing to burn Qurans.
That this is happening in my own country makes me sick. When it is considered along with European countries proposing laws to ban Burkas in public areas, the continued siege of Gaza, the destruction of Palestinian homes in the West Bank, and the continued slaughter of civilians by coalition forces and the Taliban alike in Afghanistan, it is clear to me that many Muslims around the world are suffering because of their faith. I don't think it will fix anything to fast along side them for a month. My symbolic gesture of solidarity is meant to say that I will not look the other way while fellow human beings are maligned and persecuted for their faith. And it may not do any good, but in my general state of powerlessness, it feels better than doing nothing.
So today I've visited my favorite bakery, deli, coffee shop and grocery store, all in preparation for the fast. It will be a challenge, but I figure if Minnesota Vikings Safety Husain Abdullah can do it and still play professional football, I can probably manage just fine.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Day 220-Inception
Dear Mr. President,
By now I feel like the last person in the country to see the movie Inception. This is probably not the case, and I don't often feel comfortable writing to you about pop culture, but this is slightly less inane than knowing who snookie is, I think. Movies, like any art, make me feel things. Love, Actually or Pride & Prejudice still make my skeptic's heart believe in the possibility of a true and lasting love. Star Wars still inspires my childish dreams of heroics and adventure. Being moved by these experiences may be temporary or even contrived, but I still enjoy it. Which brings me to Inception, a film that asks the viewer to question the nature of reality.
When I was a little girl I often wandered into empty rooms, looking for a place to be alone. I would lie down, close my eyes, and imagine the whole massive, complex world, and then the whole span of history (which, at that age, I could barely conceive of as anything more specific than immense.) I would feel so small that I would cease to exist. An impulse at the back of my mind suggested that this meant I did not exist. How could I, a girl of exactly no consequence, be real? A girl of only a few years, with no apparent purpose or significance? It was, on the whole, a preposterous notion. I wondered how I had ever thought that it was possible to have my own place in the infinite. Once I had finally reached the point of truly doubting if I could exist at all, I'd open my eyes. I don't recall if I enjoyed more the feeling of oblivion or the reassurance of my own senses. I recall reading once that the great Russian author Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn had such an extreme egocentric view of the world as a child that he insisted his classmates did not exist unless he was around. Allegedly, one day when he was home sick, the class came to visit him to prove that they still existed without him there. When I read this I wondered if my own obsession with existence and nonexistence was somehow a variation on this.
Don't worry, I'm not going to try to convince you that we're all dreaming. Actually, while watching Inception, I couldn't help but think about foreign policy and the different ways we perceive our own nation in relationship to every other nation. Are we in a constant state of war, guns drawn and fingers on the trigger, enemies pausing only because of the size or number of weapons pointed back? I think some people must see the world that way, and I don't know that I can necessarily disprove their version of reality. As for my view of the world I see the way that those in power use violence and, more often, fear of violence to keep those without power believing that the enemy speaking a foreign tongue is much more threatening than the system telling people to be afraid. I don't know that any one could prove or disprove this reality, either. I can believe, all I want, but I can't convince others to share in my reality. I wonder if this is why we tend to reject evidence or information supporting politicians or policies we ideologically oppose. If my younger self was dwarfed, not by the number of people that had ever lived, but by the number of contradicting realities that must simultaneously exist to make them all right. Does my conviction about the state of reality do more harm, than good? Should we all give up these differences in perception and agree to live in the same world? Which one? Who decides?
Ok, this is perhaps venturing too far into theory for me to be really comfortable with its relevance. I experience this sensation too rarely these days, and I don't often get to the movies, so forgive me, but I'll enjoy it while it lasts. I wonder, does being President make it hard to distinguish between the office and your self, at times? Do you find yourself perceiving or reacting to things differently, as President, than you might have as just Barack Obama? Is there a single paradigm shift that you think is in order for the American people or for the American government, by which I mean, If you could change the way this country collectively perceives something, what would it be? For me, I would change the way we perceive our own isolation. I would have us see ourselves more clearly in strangers and better understand how the harm and injustice and exploitation we perpetuate, even through apathy, comes back to directly affect our own existences. But that's enough philosophy, for now. I want to lie in bed, close my eyes, and, just for a moment, doubt that any of us exist at all.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
By now I feel like the last person in the country to see the movie Inception. This is probably not the case, and I don't often feel comfortable writing to you about pop culture, but this is slightly less inane than knowing who snookie is, I think. Movies, like any art, make me feel things. Love, Actually or Pride & Prejudice still make my skeptic's heart believe in the possibility of a true and lasting love. Star Wars still inspires my childish dreams of heroics and adventure. Being moved by these experiences may be temporary or even contrived, but I still enjoy it. Which brings me to Inception, a film that asks the viewer to question the nature of reality.
When I was a little girl I often wandered into empty rooms, looking for a place to be alone. I would lie down, close my eyes, and imagine the whole massive, complex world, and then the whole span of history (which, at that age, I could barely conceive of as anything more specific than immense.) I would feel so small that I would cease to exist. An impulse at the back of my mind suggested that this meant I did not exist. How could I, a girl of exactly no consequence, be real? A girl of only a few years, with no apparent purpose or significance? It was, on the whole, a preposterous notion. I wondered how I had ever thought that it was possible to have my own place in the infinite. Once I had finally reached the point of truly doubting if I could exist at all, I'd open my eyes. I don't recall if I enjoyed more the feeling of oblivion or the reassurance of my own senses. I recall reading once that the great Russian author Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn had such an extreme egocentric view of the world as a child that he insisted his classmates did not exist unless he was around. Allegedly, one day when he was home sick, the class came to visit him to prove that they still existed without him there. When I read this I wondered if my own obsession with existence and nonexistence was somehow a variation on this.
Don't worry, I'm not going to try to convince you that we're all dreaming. Actually, while watching Inception, I couldn't help but think about foreign policy and the different ways we perceive our own nation in relationship to every other nation. Are we in a constant state of war, guns drawn and fingers on the trigger, enemies pausing only because of the size or number of weapons pointed back? I think some people must see the world that way, and I don't know that I can necessarily disprove their version of reality. As for my view of the world I see the way that those in power use violence and, more often, fear of violence to keep those without power believing that the enemy speaking a foreign tongue is much more threatening than the system telling people to be afraid. I don't know that any one could prove or disprove this reality, either. I can believe, all I want, but I can't convince others to share in my reality. I wonder if this is why we tend to reject evidence or information supporting politicians or policies we ideologically oppose. If my younger self was dwarfed, not by the number of people that had ever lived, but by the number of contradicting realities that must simultaneously exist to make them all right. Does my conviction about the state of reality do more harm, than good? Should we all give up these differences in perception and agree to live in the same world? Which one? Who decides?
Ok, this is perhaps venturing too far into theory for me to be really comfortable with its relevance. I experience this sensation too rarely these days, and I don't often get to the movies, so forgive me, but I'll enjoy it while it lasts. I wonder, does being President make it hard to distinguish between the office and your self, at times? Do you find yourself perceiving or reacting to things differently, as President, than you might have as just Barack Obama? Is there a single paradigm shift that you think is in order for the American people or for the American government, by which I mean, If you could change the way this country collectively perceives something, what would it be? For me, I would change the way we perceive our own isolation. I would have us see ourselves more clearly in strangers and better understand how the harm and injustice and exploitation we perpetuate, even through apathy, comes back to directly affect our own existences. But that's enough philosophy, for now. I want to lie in bed, close my eyes, and, just for a moment, doubt that any of us exist at all.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Friday, August 6, 2010
Day 218- Spain, Haiti and China
From College Humor:
Dear Mr. President,
Apparently the First Lady's trip to Spain is upsetting some people, and it is no surprise that Rush Limbaugh is one of them. He is, predictably, spewing his usual racist nonsense about something as silly as a First Lady going on vacation. This from the man who paid a million dollars to have Elton John sing at his latest wedding. I'm glad that Limbaugh chimed in, because his contributions to public discourse usually remind thinking people just how ridiculous some of the accusations by the right actually are.
What do you think about Wyclef Jean running for President of Haiti? I suppose I don't know enough about Haitian politics to have an informed opinion, but my initial reaction is that a nation so devastated by natural disaster and economic calamity should probably have a more experienced leader. On the topic of Haiti, tonight I heard some news of a woman I attended high school with, Katie Zook. She was rescued from the rubble of a collapsed building after the earthquake hit. She's recovered now, and going back to Haiti soon, to continue working as a teacher. Seeing the courage it must require of her to return to a place still so damaged after survivng such a tragedy has got to give a person hope for the future.
I've also heard two rather disturbing stories out of China. The first is about China's policy of locking the poor up in their own neighborhoods during the night. The second is about the 600,000 Chinese workers who die from overwork in manufacturing every year.
Both stories illustrate, to me, the dangers of a society where wealthy corporate interests are placed above the value of a person (even, or especially, a poor person.) What is most disturbing is how much the purchasing habits of the American people contribute to this system. Our demand for cheap goods has created this tragedy, and we continue to support it almost unconsciously. Recently, you offered three words to frame our best hope for economic recovery; made in America. Don't Americans have a moral imperative, as well as an economic interest, in making sure the good they buy are, whenever possible, produced by fairly paid workers in safe conditions? I don't think that most Americans want to support a system that contributes to hundreds of thousands of needless deaths, or the extreme poverty of many workers. There has to be a way to wake people up to the human cost of our cheap imported goods.
Anyway, Mr. President, I wanted to make a cleaner connection between all of this, but I don't know that I can. It's something about our priorities, about celebrity worship and service to others and putting our own immediate gratification away for the greater good. Maybe these stories aren't connected anywhere outside of my own mind, but I hope that people wake up and realize that obsessing over how many Secret Service agents are working to keep the First Lady safe is not fair or productive to complain about. There are so many terrible things happening in this world, and we ought to stop worrying about appearances and ephemera. I hope that the Rush Limbaughs of the world don't frustrate you into forgetting about the Katie Zooks. I think, at heart, most Americans are good people like Katie who are concerned about preventing or easing the suffering of others. We don't always go about it the right way, and we don't always make the important connections between our own decisions and their consequences, but I think that slowly we will change for the better.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Dear Mr. President,
Apparently the First Lady's trip to Spain is upsetting some people, and it is no surprise that Rush Limbaugh is one of them. He is, predictably, spewing his usual racist nonsense about something as silly as a First Lady going on vacation. This from the man who paid a million dollars to have Elton John sing at his latest wedding. I'm glad that Limbaugh chimed in, because his contributions to public discourse usually remind thinking people just how ridiculous some of the accusations by the right actually are.
What do you think about Wyclef Jean running for President of Haiti? I suppose I don't know enough about Haitian politics to have an informed opinion, but my initial reaction is that a nation so devastated by natural disaster and economic calamity should probably have a more experienced leader. On the topic of Haiti, tonight I heard some news of a woman I attended high school with, Katie Zook. She was rescued from the rubble of a collapsed building after the earthquake hit. She's recovered now, and going back to Haiti soon, to continue working as a teacher. Seeing the courage it must require of her to return to a place still so damaged after survivng such a tragedy has got to give a person hope for the future.
I've also heard two rather disturbing stories out of China. The first is about China's policy of locking the poor up in their own neighborhoods during the night. The second is about the 600,000 Chinese workers who die from overwork in manufacturing every year.
Both stories illustrate, to me, the dangers of a society where wealthy corporate interests are placed above the value of a person (even, or especially, a poor person.) What is most disturbing is how much the purchasing habits of the American people contribute to this system. Our demand for cheap goods has created this tragedy, and we continue to support it almost unconsciously. Recently, you offered three words to frame our best hope for economic recovery; made in America. Don't Americans have a moral imperative, as well as an economic interest, in making sure the good they buy are, whenever possible, produced by fairly paid workers in safe conditions? I don't think that most Americans want to support a system that contributes to hundreds of thousands of needless deaths, or the extreme poverty of many workers. There has to be a way to wake people up to the human cost of our cheap imported goods.
Anyway, Mr. President, I wanted to make a cleaner connection between all of this, but I don't know that I can. It's something about our priorities, about celebrity worship and service to others and putting our own immediate gratification away for the greater good. Maybe these stories aren't connected anywhere outside of my own mind, but I hope that people wake up and realize that obsessing over how many Secret Service agents are working to keep the First Lady safe is not fair or productive to complain about. There are so many terrible things happening in this world, and we ought to stop worrying about appearances and ephemera. I hope that the Rush Limbaughs of the world don't frustrate you into forgetting about the Katie Zooks. I think, at heart, most Americans are good people like Katie who are concerned about preventing or easing the suffering of others. We don't always go about it the right way, and we don't always make the important connections between our own decisions and their consequences, but I think that slowly we will change for the better.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Day 189- Anonymous
Dear Mr. President,
After an inexplicable night of insomnia, I found myself awake at 5am. Bird song, and the early first light were too tempting to pass up, so I donned my running shoes and went for a jog. The city was empty. Skyscrapers on the horizon were just beginning to reflect the pastel light of the rising sun, which was still competing with street lamps for dominance. Crows dotted the wires of telephone poles, the lines of the intersection on the empty road, and scuttled away from me in the park. It was the perfect morning, warm, but only beginning to hint at the oppressive heat that would rule the rest of the day. After I got tired, I walked for a ways, read the newspaper on a bus bench, and watched the city begin to wake up. I've never been a morning person, so this voluntary predawn excursion seemed to signal something deeply wrong. Maybe it was the heat. Maybe it was an indication that I've finally overdosed on 90's sci-fi television. Maybe I was just restless for the expansive luxury of an empty city street.
Then I saw the interview you gave with an Israeli journalist. Your answer to the question about what parts of your old, pre-white house life that you missed, struck a chord with my strange morning excursion. You miss going for walks, being anonymous, experiencing the world in private. This freedom, which I take for granted, most days, is the steep price of your office. I am often overwhelmed and frustrated by my invisibility, my smallness, my inability to affect change. I have not often stopped to consider the benefits of this anonymity; the peace of insignificance. When one is as alone in the world as I often feel myself to be, it is hard not to envy some one like you.
You also spoke of Jerusalem, of walking through the streets of the old city. Even reading your words in the simple light of my laptop screen, I could almost see the affection that compels them. Every one I speak to, young, old, Israeli, Palestinian, American, every one I know speaks of Jerusalem this way. It is why I dislike hearing it referred to as "The Holy Land." It is not about the shrines or the churches or the mosques or the synagogues. It is not about the dead men who died so that others could die for it, or who died trying to take it away from the people who died to take it away from the people before them. It is about the living. The sounds of the old city markets, the smooth stones in the street, the punishing sun brought low at sunset, spilling a softer, more forgiving light across the palm trees and the balconies and the minarets and the satellite dishes. The clothes that dry on lines, the foods that cook on street corners, the hum of so many people in one place. It is the same beauty, perhaps, of every city, but made all the more precious by the great powers that have battled for it in the background of its entire life. The life in this city, not the history or the blood spilled, but the mundane, anonymous, boring life is what makes it so beautiful. These things that cannot often be found in briefing books, or, as you've sadly reminded me, practically anywhere in the lives of those in power. I am glad to know you still remember it, and while I am grateful that you've given up that part of your own life for this service to our country, I hope that one day you are again able to walk in the old city, or in any city, and feel anonymous, even if it is only for a moment.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
After an inexplicable night of insomnia, I found myself awake at 5am. Bird song, and the early first light were too tempting to pass up, so I donned my running shoes and went for a jog. The city was empty. Skyscrapers on the horizon were just beginning to reflect the pastel light of the rising sun, which was still competing with street lamps for dominance. Crows dotted the wires of telephone poles, the lines of the intersection on the empty road, and scuttled away from me in the park. It was the perfect morning, warm, but only beginning to hint at the oppressive heat that would rule the rest of the day. After I got tired, I walked for a ways, read the newspaper on a bus bench, and watched the city begin to wake up. I've never been a morning person, so this voluntary predawn excursion seemed to signal something deeply wrong. Maybe it was the heat. Maybe it was an indication that I've finally overdosed on 90's sci-fi television. Maybe I was just restless for the expansive luxury of an empty city street.
Then I saw the interview you gave with an Israeli journalist. Your answer to the question about what parts of your old, pre-white house life that you missed, struck a chord with my strange morning excursion. You miss going for walks, being anonymous, experiencing the world in private. This freedom, which I take for granted, most days, is the steep price of your office. I am often overwhelmed and frustrated by my invisibility, my smallness, my inability to affect change. I have not often stopped to consider the benefits of this anonymity; the peace of insignificance. When one is as alone in the world as I often feel myself to be, it is hard not to envy some one like you.
You also spoke of Jerusalem, of walking through the streets of the old city. Even reading your words in the simple light of my laptop screen, I could almost see the affection that compels them. Every one I speak to, young, old, Israeli, Palestinian, American, every one I know speaks of Jerusalem this way. It is why I dislike hearing it referred to as "The Holy Land." It is not about the shrines or the churches or the mosques or the synagogues. It is not about the dead men who died so that others could die for it, or who died trying to take it away from the people who died to take it away from the people before them. It is about the living. The sounds of the old city markets, the smooth stones in the street, the punishing sun brought low at sunset, spilling a softer, more forgiving light across the palm trees and the balconies and the minarets and the satellite dishes. The clothes that dry on lines, the foods that cook on street corners, the hum of so many people in one place. It is the same beauty, perhaps, of every city, but made all the more precious by the great powers that have battled for it in the background of its entire life. The life in this city, not the history or the blood spilled, but the mundane, anonymous, boring life is what makes it so beautiful. These things that cannot often be found in briefing books, or, as you've sadly reminded me, practically anywhere in the lives of those in power. I am glad to know you still remember it, and while I am grateful that you've given up that part of your own life for this service to our country, I hope that one day you are again able to walk in the old city, or in any city, and feel anonymous, even if it is only for a moment.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Friday, July 2, 2010
Day 183- All at once
****Update for those of you who don't read my facebook or Chev's: Chev is totally fine and safe, the Peace Corps volunteers are only being evacuated from the Northern regions of Burkina Faso, and so they will be reassigned to southern villages that are safer. Yay for good news!
Dear Mr. President,
I have a soft spot for certain "celebrity" chefs. Jamie Oliver. Molly Wizenberg and, perhaps ironically, given his position on all things vegetarian, Anthony Bourdain. While at work, I glanced through a few passages from Bourdain's latest book, Medium Raw, in which he expresses his inexplicable mix of dislike and respect for Alice Waters. Bourdain, who himself insists upon fresh, organic food for his own family, has several problems with the way Waters has advocated these practices for all Americans. His first problem is with the reality of modern farming, which he, perhaps correctly, insists could not be simultaneously organic, sustainable, and affordable. His next contention, that few Americans want to do the hard work that kind of farming requires and must therefor rely upon immigrant labor or machines to do it for them, reminded me of two articles I'd stumbled upon lately. The first was a Freakonomics piece by James McWilliams on fair trade coffee and economic reality, and the second was an interview with a United Farm Workers of America VP Erik Nicholson discussing agricultural practices, in which Nicholson asserts that the convergence of sustainable small farms, labor and immigration issues make any real progress politically problematic.
Reading these pieces and contemplating the many ways that reality frustrates idealism, I realized that this issue is more than just labor and immigration and sustainability; it's healthcare and our energy future and our environmental policy. What we eat, how we produce our food, will involve and impact every major (and especially contentious) domestic policy issue we face. I was once again reminded of how overwhelmed I felt in Costco the other day, sure that all of my good intentions were for nothing. I don't see how we can possibly remake our entire agricultural system in the image of Waters' utopian ideal, but neither do I have quite so cynical a perspective as Bourdain. We may not have a surplus of Americans willing to return to agricultural labor, at least not the way it is now or has been done in the past, but it isn't as though all Americans are strangers to hard labor. I, for one, (and I doubt very much that I'm alone in this) would much rather have tended fields or picked fruit than toiled away as a food service employee for all the years I spent in unskilled positions. The problem is simultaneous change. We need more people to grow food that is safer and more nutritious, for themselves and for their communities, and to do that we need more people to work in agriculture, and to do that we need to have better wages and working conditions, which means the use of pesticides and factory farming practices would have to change. Immigration, food prices, import and export practices, the environment; everything would be affected. Everything would have to change at once for any of it to work, and I've lived too long to believe that we're capable of that.
So will organic, sustainably grown food continue to be a luxury for the rich, or favorably located, or fervently committed, forever subject to the economic realities that link scaling up these practices with the degradation of the very principles they were founded upon? I want to believe that we can reform ourselves, but I don't know that I, or you, or even Alice Waters, has the solution. In the last few days, I've seen major discussions on healthcare, immigration, energy and environmental policies from the White House, and so I know that your administration still has faith that we can make the necessary changes in all of these areas. For myself, I don't imagine that the solution lies in regressing to the practices that once sustained us; our society has become far too urban, far too disconnected from the land our food comes from to ever fully revert back to the kind of farming I associate with John Steinbeck's novels. I think our best hope is yet to be discovered, but that it will require us all to involve ourselves, however unappealing some may find it, in the sources of our food and to demand better conditions for the people who provide it for us.
Anyway, on Monday I'll be putting myself to the test and see how well my rhetoric stands up against reality. More on that, to come.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Dear Mr. President,
I have a soft spot for certain "celebrity" chefs. Jamie Oliver. Molly Wizenberg and, perhaps ironically, given his position on all things vegetarian, Anthony Bourdain. While at work, I glanced through a few passages from Bourdain's latest book, Medium Raw, in which he expresses his inexplicable mix of dislike and respect for Alice Waters. Bourdain, who himself insists upon fresh, organic food for his own family, has several problems with the way Waters has advocated these practices for all Americans. His first problem is with the reality of modern farming, which he, perhaps correctly, insists could not be simultaneously organic, sustainable, and affordable. His next contention, that few Americans want to do the hard work that kind of farming requires and must therefor rely upon immigrant labor or machines to do it for them, reminded me of two articles I'd stumbled upon lately. The first was a Freakonomics piece by James McWilliams on fair trade coffee and economic reality, and the second was an interview with a United Farm Workers of America VP Erik Nicholson discussing agricultural practices, in which Nicholson asserts that the convergence of sustainable small farms, labor and immigration issues make any real progress politically problematic.
Reading these pieces and contemplating the many ways that reality frustrates idealism, I realized that this issue is more than just labor and immigration and sustainability; it's healthcare and our energy future and our environmental policy. What we eat, how we produce our food, will involve and impact every major (and especially contentious) domestic policy issue we face. I was once again reminded of how overwhelmed I felt in Costco the other day, sure that all of my good intentions were for nothing. I don't see how we can possibly remake our entire agricultural system in the image of Waters' utopian ideal, but neither do I have quite so cynical a perspective as Bourdain. We may not have a surplus of Americans willing to return to agricultural labor, at least not the way it is now or has been done in the past, but it isn't as though all Americans are strangers to hard labor. I, for one, (and I doubt very much that I'm alone in this) would much rather have tended fields or picked fruit than toiled away as a food service employee for all the years I spent in unskilled positions. The problem is simultaneous change. We need more people to grow food that is safer and more nutritious, for themselves and for their communities, and to do that we need more people to work in agriculture, and to do that we need to have better wages and working conditions, which means the use of pesticides and factory farming practices would have to change. Immigration, food prices, import and export practices, the environment; everything would be affected. Everything would have to change at once for any of it to work, and I've lived too long to believe that we're capable of that.
So will organic, sustainably grown food continue to be a luxury for the rich, or favorably located, or fervently committed, forever subject to the economic realities that link scaling up these practices with the degradation of the very principles they were founded upon? I want to believe that we can reform ourselves, but I don't know that I, or you, or even Alice Waters, has the solution. In the last few days, I've seen major discussions on healthcare, immigration, energy and environmental policies from the White House, and so I know that your administration still has faith that we can make the necessary changes in all of these areas. For myself, I don't imagine that the solution lies in regressing to the practices that once sustained us; our society has become far too urban, far too disconnected from the land our food comes from to ever fully revert back to the kind of farming I associate with John Steinbeck's novels. I think our best hope is yet to be discovered, but that it will require us all to involve ourselves, however unappealing some may find it, in the sources of our food and to demand better conditions for the people who provide it for us.
Anyway, on Monday I'll be putting myself to the test and see how well my rhetoric stands up against reality. More on that, to come.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Day 181- Vampires and Werewolves
Dear Mr. President,
On July 21 of 2007, I was dressed as Bellatrix Lestrange and, before an exuberant crowd of over 2,000, I revealed the first copy of the final Harry Potter book, and sold it to the first person in line. Less than an hour later, we'd sold a copy to every person who'd waited in line, and my roommates and I headed into the metro to go home. I'd been at work since 9 am, and it was close to 2:30am. Three men approached us on the platform and, seeing that we were reading the Harry Potter books, offered us $50 a book, cash. So you might see why I wasn't at all surprised to read that Elena Kagan was asked to comment on the Edward v. Jacob "controversy."
I want to be disappointed by this, but I can't help finding it sort of endearing. Don't get me wrong, the Twilight phenomenon has never appealed to me at all, but the young girl who went to the midnight shows of all the Star Wars special editions, or who, (even as a poor 21-year old) refused to sell my $21 copy of the Deathly Hallows for $50 so that I could stay up 12 straight hours reading it, understands those fans, to a point. I can't help but be impressed that these stories, intended to do little more than entertain children, have swept up much of the adult population in a shared experience. The people who hate Twilight, or who joke about it, are as caught up in this phenomenon as those who love it. Maybe the bookseller in me is always gratified to see people excited about reading, but I think it's more than that, too. I think that, having lived in so many places in my life, and always feeling a bit transient, it is comforting to know that we're all looking at the same sky, so to speak. That, on July 22nd, 2007, when I looked around on the metro, I was seeing the same sea of orange covers that friends and strangers alike were encountering on planes, in classrooms and cafes all over the world. That art, which is glorious in its celebration of our differences, the unique experience it offers each of us, also allows us to see how much we have in common.
Certainly, as a bookseller, I have also witnessed those who have been taken in too deeply by their fantasies and fandom, who have lost sight of reality and may never recognize it again. I don't know that fiction can be blamed for offering such an alluring alternative for those who find reality too painful. And, while I respect the Senate and the process of judicial confirmation too much to wish it to appear trite or silly, I am confident that werewolves and vampires will be far from the most ridiculous or undignified things that Kagan will be questioned about in the coming days.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
On July 21 of 2007, I was dressed as Bellatrix Lestrange and, before an exuberant crowd of over 2,000, I revealed the first copy of the final Harry Potter book, and sold it to the first person in line. Less than an hour later, we'd sold a copy to every person who'd waited in line, and my roommates and I headed into the metro to go home. I'd been at work since 9 am, and it was close to 2:30am. Three men approached us on the platform and, seeing that we were reading the Harry Potter books, offered us $50 a book, cash. So you might see why I wasn't at all surprised to read that Elena Kagan was asked to comment on the Edward v. Jacob "controversy."
I want to be disappointed by this, but I can't help finding it sort of endearing. Don't get me wrong, the Twilight phenomenon has never appealed to me at all, but the young girl who went to the midnight shows of all the Star Wars special editions, or who, (even as a poor 21-year old) refused to sell my $21 copy of the Deathly Hallows for $50 so that I could stay up 12 straight hours reading it, understands those fans, to a point. I can't help but be impressed that these stories, intended to do little more than entertain children, have swept up much of the adult population in a shared experience. The people who hate Twilight, or who joke about it, are as caught up in this phenomenon as those who love it. Maybe the bookseller in me is always gratified to see people excited about reading, but I think it's more than that, too. I think that, having lived in so many places in my life, and always feeling a bit transient, it is comforting to know that we're all looking at the same sky, so to speak. That, on July 22nd, 2007, when I looked around on the metro, I was seeing the same sea of orange covers that friends and strangers alike were encountering on planes, in classrooms and cafes all over the world. That art, which is glorious in its celebration of our differences, the unique experience it offers each of us, also allows us to see how much we have in common.
Certainly, as a bookseller, I have also witnessed those who have been taken in too deeply by their fantasies and fandom, who have lost sight of reality and may never recognize it again. I don't know that fiction can be blamed for offering such an alluring alternative for those who find reality too painful. And, while I respect the Senate and the process of judicial confirmation too much to wish it to appear trite or silly, I am confident that werewolves and vampires will be far from the most ridiculous or undignified things that Kagan will be questioned about in the coming days.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
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