I went to say goodbye to Sen. Ted Kennedy the other morning.
Last Saturday morning, when it could not quite decide whether or not to rain. My partner and my mom were on their way to the National Book Festival on the Mall in Washington, D.C. and I joined them later, in time to see an unlikely and huge crowd of people who have not heard yet about the Death of the Book, a great gathering in America’s backyard. The event was crowded, a bit too much so for my taste, but it was oddly inspiring and refreshingly democratic. I heard the thickly accented voice of Paula Dean (do you ever wonder when her 15 minutes of fame be over?) and a few funny observations about sex and literature from mystery-writing wonder Walter Mosley.
But before that, I walked up the hill at Arlington National Cemetery, a jaunt that does not seem to get easier as I age. And I saw, in amid the clicking cameras, the where the youngest Kennedy brother was laid to rest last month. I am enough of an old-time liberal to wonder what we will do without Kennedy’s voice. Figuratively and literally. He sounded so good and so confident, with just the right earthy eloquence. He used that voice to champion the needs of the poor and civil rights and gay rights and, above all, health care for all Americans. Those of us who agree with him are missing him about now.
I like cemeteries more than the average person. And I like Arlington as much as any place, although the crowds streaming through are not necessarily respectful (the signs aks us to be) or smart. “We have to be out of here by one o’clock,” one man told another in the men’s room at the visitors center. Their next stop: Walmart.
Before that, at Kennedy’s grave, I was thinking again how people at such sites substitute picture-taking for actually experiencing where they are. I tried to do both: take a photo and then take a moment—to notice the fresh grass on the grave and the slope of the hill and the distance between the three famous Kennedy brothers. I thought this visit was just for the youngest brother and that I would not even stop over to see the presidential grave, but of course I changed my mind and went over there.
It’s an oddly comforting place, Arlington National Cemetery, if only because it celebrates the power and value of remembering itself. I looked out at the oh-so-many markers for the non-Kennedys, the thousands of the less famous who rest here. The rain decided to begin a bit. Even or perhaps especially on a gray morning, this is a beautiful and sustaining place.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Monday, September 21, 2009
An Inspiring Thought
This morning I called my 96-year-old former piano teacher to wish her a happy birthday. She was busy working on lessons plans for a class she is going to teach later this week.
You gotta love that.
This is the musical arts equivalent of dying on the job—working until the end. Except that she has not died and she is not necessarily near the end.
In fact, during our chat, she was giving me lessons in positive thinking. I was saying how it would be hard to transition from editing to teaching, especially since so many people from so many fields are turning to education as Step Two on the career path. But my friend told me not to go into something like this thinking, well, something like that…about how hard it would be.
Being 96 and gainfully employed, she may not be right about the odds I’m facing, either in journalism or education. But she is a teacher who still has some life lessons left to give. And I’m listening.
You gotta love that.
This is the musical arts equivalent of dying on the job—working until the end. Except that she has not died and she is not necessarily near the end.
In fact, during our chat, she was giving me lessons in positive thinking. I was saying how it would be hard to transition from editing to teaching, especially since so many people from so many fields are turning to education as Step Two on the career path. But my friend told me not to go into something like this thinking, well, something like that…about how hard it would be.
Being 96 and gainfully employed, she may not be right about the odds I’m facing, either in journalism or education. But she is a teacher who still has some life lessons left to give. And I’m listening.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Politics: Anchors Gone Wild
Today’s Primary Day here in New York City.
Which reminds me: news anchors have to work pretty hard to get me to be solidly on the side of politicians. But some recent, bad examples have me wondering about the role of the campaign debate moderator.
Dominic Carter, acting like a cross between a bully and a clown, yelled at the candidates for not providing one-word answers to his questions. Diana Williams said sadly, at the end of a debate between the hopefuls for public advocate, “we’ve learned a little bit about your differences”—and she put the emphasis on “little.”I watched the New York 1 debates (Carter was the anchor) for district attorney and public advocate, then the Eyewitness News offering (Williams) for would-be public advocates. And I was left wondering: when did it become okay for TV reporters to yell at candidates about their answers?
Raising his voice repeatedly, Carter really went after city councilman and possible public advocate Bill de Blasio. Carter said de Blasio, who refused to answer a hypothetical question about endorsing Gov. David Paterson in the 2010 gubernatorial campaign, was the first person ever to refuse to answer one of those patented yes-or-no questions. That should be a badge of honor for de Blasio. For her part, Williams was visibly disturbed that the candidates were not doing a better job of outlining their differences. She wanted a Sunday morning catfight, evidently, and it was not happening.
I think there is a fine line between pressing candidates to answer questions and accepting that the guests on the stage are ultimately responsible for their own words. When reporters start harassing politicians for their answers or the tone of the campaign, the line gets crossed. It did in both of the debates I saw, where Carter and Williams were unwilling to accept their role: to put the questions and issues out there. Beyond that, I think it’s up to the candidates to do pretty much what they will with those questions and issues.
With Carter and Williams (especially Carter, who acts like he thinks he’s some sort of reincarnated Tim Russert), the debate anchors acted as though they were the stars of the show. Ironically, they were whining instead of shining.
Which reminds me: news anchors have to work pretty hard to get me to be solidly on the side of politicians. But some recent, bad examples have me wondering about the role of the campaign debate moderator.
Dominic Carter, acting like a cross between a bully and a clown, yelled at the candidates for not providing one-word answers to his questions. Diana Williams said sadly, at the end of a debate between the hopefuls for public advocate, “we’ve learned a little bit about your differences”—and she put the emphasis on “little.”I watched the New York 1 debates (Carter was the anchor) for district attorney and public advocate, then the Eyewitness News offering (Williams) for would-be public advocates. And I was left wondering: when did it become okay for TV reporters to yell at candidates about their answers?
Raising his voice repeatedly, Carter really went after city councilman and possible public advocate Bill de Blasio. Carter said de Blasio, who refused to answer a hypothetical question about endorsing Gov. David Paterson in the 2010 gubernatorial campaign, was the first person ever to refuse to answer one of those patented yes-or-no questions. That should be a badge of honor for de Blasio. For her part, Williams was visibly disturbed that the candidates were not doing a better job of outlining their differences. She wanted a Sunday morning catfight, evidently, and it was not happening.
I think there is a fine line between pressing candidates to answer questions and accepting that the guests on the stage are ultimately responsible for their own words. When reporters start harassing politicians for their answers or the tone of the campaign, the line gets crossed. It did in both of the debates I saw, where Carter and Williams were unwilling to accept their role: to put the questions and issues out there. Beyond that, I think it’s up to the candidates to do pretty much what they will with those questions and issues.
With Carter and Williams (especially Carter, who acts like he thinks he’s some sort of reincarnated Tim Russert), the debate anchors acted as though they were the stars of the show. Ironically, they were whining instead of shining.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Another Trendy Move from Me: I’m Uninsured
I want a public option—today.
I kicked off my day today by learning that I am uninsured. At the moment. My insurance company says I was terminated, even though I was told and I think I even read that this would not happen for several more weeks. I thought there was something called a grace period.
The crack team where I used to work is trying to help me, which I appreciate. But I am left wondering what went wrong. I guess I should have called every day over to ADP Total Source, which handles paychecks and insurance and a range of other workplace-related anxieties. Essentially ADP is the middleman between me and Oxford, which does my health insurance, and Aetna, which does my dental insurance.
I called ADP last week. I was told that my reinstatement application had been sent to Oxford, but that was news to the folks at Oxford this morning. And I do not understand why I needed to be “reinstated” when I should not have been dropped yet.
This would be an appropriate time for me to say: I favor a single-payer system.
Government health care is supposed to scare me? It does not. Maybe that’s because the state government, via the Department of Labor, is doing a fine job by me. They are giving me money to buy food. They are providing me with service online, where I apply for benefits weekly, and with a relatively frustrating phone tree and, as of last week, I got some in-person service.
That’s when I was called to the state’s Department of Labor office on Varick Street. I was surprised to get some decent advice from a good-natured counselor (I was picked at random) and to hear from a pretty witty and reassuring woman who spoke to the group at large. The Labor Department, she candidly admitted, was partly just battling fraud by having us show up. But we got things too: lists of resources, from computer labs to workshops (I signed up for three of them) to lists of Web sites that might be helpful.
Sure, it was painful, especially at first, to sit in a conference room with 40-plus other unemployed people. You could smell the anxiety. And this was a good-looking group, chock full of people who I would hire or buy a car from or expect to see teaching my niece or nephew. Call me an elitist, but the professional look of this diverse crowd only depressed me more. I started to feel badly for everyone I saw. But eventually I found myself feeling at least a little bit better, because of the professional attitude of the Labor people.
So please do not ask me to join in the nationwide berating of government workers. I think they might be up to the task of providing me with health care. Lord knows nobody else is doing it this morning.
I kicked off my day today by learning that I am uninsured. At the moment. My insurance company says I was terminated, even though I was told and I think I even read that this would not happen for several more weeks. I thought there was something called a grace period.
The crack team where I used to work is trying to help me, which I appreciate. But I am left wondering what went wrong. I guess I should have called every day over to ADP Total Source, which handles paychecks and insurance and a range of other workplace-related anxieties. Essentially ADP is the middleman between me and Oxford, which does my health insurance, and Aetna, which does my dental insurance.
I called ADP last week. I was told that my reinstatement application had been sent to Oxford, but that was news to the folks at Oxford this morning. And I do not understand why I needed to be “reinstated” when I should not have been dropped yet.
This would be an appropriate time for me to say: I favor a single-payer system.
Government health care is supposed to scare me? It does not. Maybe that’s because the state government, via the Department of Labor, is doing a fine job by me. They are giving me money to buy food. They are providing me with service online, where I apply for benefits weekly, and with a relatively frustrating phone tree and, as of last week, I got some in-person service.
That’s when I was called to the state’s Department of Labor office on Varick Street. I was surprised to get some decent advice from a good-natured counselor (I was picked at random) and to hear from a pretty witty and reassuring woman who spoke to the group at large. The Labor Department, she candidly admitted, was partly just battling fraud by having us show up. But we got things too: lists of resources, from computer labs to workshops (I signed up for three of them) to lists of Web sites that might be helpful.
Sure, it was painful, especially at first, to sit in a conference room with 40-plus other unemployed people. You could smell the anxiety. And this was a good-looking group, chock full of people who I would hire or buy a car from or expect to see teaching my niece or nephew. Call me an elitist, but the professional look of this diverse crowd only depressed me more. I started to feel badly for everyone I saw. But eventually I found myself feeling at least a little bit better, because of the professional attitude of the Labor people.
So please do not ask me to join in the nationwide berating of government workers. I think they might be up to the task of providing me with health care. Lord knows nobody else is doing it this morning.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
After Labor Day, Without a Job—but With a Little Leftover Anger
It’s hard to go back to work without actually having a job.
This is one of those big back-to-work days. It is really the start of the year, a kind of New Year’s Day, especially in New York, where fall is king and brings with it a fresh season of everything from politics to culture. And so it’s only natural on the morning after Labor Day to wake up and be eager to make progress on the job.Instead, I need to make progress on finding a job. Which the New York Times told me yesterday is not actually going to happen. There was a fine front-page feature on the people who are not even included any longer in the rising unemployment stats: the ones who have given up looking for work. I cannot say—after reading the story and after living for three months looking for a job—that I blame them.
I understand the frustration. And I understand the anger, which comes at me sideways. When I was first dumped by the powers that be, I would find myself waking up in the middle of the night and suddenly feeling a surge of anger. I would think about promises made and not kept, like the time that one of my bosses told me that I would have a job as long as he did. Alas, not true.
One smart woman with career advice for me over the summer told me that this is like the loss of a kind of family. Yes, although my actual family turned out to be far more loyal. No shock there. I guess post-Labor Day is a good time, way past time really, to let go of the anger I feel over being let go from a job I thought I did well. Certainly taking the toxic feelings into job interviews would be a bad idea—and I hope I have been able to avoid that particular mistake.
I tell myself to do a few of those learned-in-yoga-class breaths and keep going. I survived the Recession Summer of ’09, with a little help from my friends (a lot, actually) and if nothing else I can promise that if I ever have a job again, well, I’m going to be a lot more sensitive towards the job-seekers I meet along life’s path.
This is one of those big back-to-work days. It is really the start of the year, a kind of New Year’s Day, especially in New York, where fall is king and brings with it a fresh season of everything from politics to culture. And so it’s only natural on the morning after Labor Day to wake up and be eager to make progress on the job.Instead, I need to make progress on finding a job. Which the New York Times told me yesterday is not actually going to happen. There was a fine front-page feature on the people who are not even included any longer in the rising unemployment stats: the ones who have given up looking for work. I cannot say—after reading the story and after living for three months looking for a job—that I blame them.
I understand the frustration. And I understand the anger, which comes at me sideways. When I was first dumped by the powers that be, I would find myself waking up in the middle of the night and suddenly feeling a surge of anger. I would think about promises made and not kept, like the time that one of my bosses told me that I would have a job as long as he did. Alas, not true.
One smart woman with career advice for me over the summer told me that this is like the loss of a kind of family. Yes, although my actual family turned out to be far more loyal. No shock there. I guess post-Labor Day is a good time, way past time really, to let go of the anger I feel over being let go from a job I thought I did well. Certainly taking the toxic feelings into job interviews would be a bad idea—and I hope I have been able to avoid that particular mistake.
I tell myself to do a few of those learned-in-yoga-class breaths and keep going. I survived the Recession Summer of ’09, with a little help from my friends (a lot, actually) and if nothing else I can promise that if I ever have a job again, well, I’m going to be a lot more sensitive towards the job-seekers I meet along life’s path.
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