The irreverent musings of a sardonic wisenheimer who’s prone to fits of hopefulness and hypersensitivity.
Wednesday, September 11, 2019
Who Will Call Me Patches?
“It is not length of life, but depth of life.”
Ralph Waldo Emerson
I met Nancy Wood from Rockford, Alabama through my good friend Josh Fielder. Nancy and I became Facebook friends in January of last year. I use “met” instead of “haven’t really met but feel like I know her thanks to Facebook” because it’s shorter.
She was born on February 23, 1974 and died last Saturday.
I realized when I sat down to write this that I don’t know as much about Nancy as I thought. I don’t know if she had health issues – her death seemed sudden and certainly unexpected – or if she was allergic to anything. I don’t know what her favorite color was or if she knew how to drive a stick shift. I don’t know if she could sing or what her laugh sounded like. I don’t even know what she did for a living other than to make other people smile.
Her Facebook profile says she earned a bachelor’s degree from City College of New York – she was originally from Harlem – and she was also an Auburn alumna. I know she loved football and boxing – she said she also watched basketball because “hell, after a while it’s all ya got” – and that she could talk about sports better than some of her husband Phil’s friends. (She boasted that she and Phil “can ESPN together.”) I know her faith was important to her and the recent death of her dear friend Paula was devastating. But there’s a lot that I don’t know and now won’t.
We shared dance videos with each other. She posted animal clips, news articles and essays, memes and status updates about sports, friends, Trump, race, politics, current events, marriage and cooking for the man she loved. She was an active Facebook user. I’m glad for this.
Two days before she died, I posted about not having a home team along with this meme:
Nancy was one of several who commented, gently scolding me (complete with “WTF?”), encouraging me to move to the South – she knew my aging parents live near Atlanta – and assuring me that she had my back.
I love the idea that a person I had never seen and knew relatively little about had my back. For some reason I felt like she meant it.
It’s funny how some deaths hit you harder than others. I would not have expected to feel such heartache at the loss of someone I knew only in the Land of Lord Zuckerberg. I feel for Phil and her family and closer friends. I’m so sad for them because if Nancy’s death hurts me this much, they must be in excruciating pain. I hope they take comfort in knowing what a mark she left and what a gift, a flower, a bright light, a treasure she was to people all over the place.
Nancy gave me the nickname “Patches” – I don’t remember why – and it’s my favorite nickname ever. I remember how supportive she was when my personal life took a significant downward turn and I revealed my depression to her. At a time in my life when the going was tough, a witty woman with a big heart in Alabama reminded me that we’re all in this together. She was kind to me when I needed it. I will miss her.
One time Nancy told me she was starting to make me a grey scarf. (Again, I don’t remember why.) I think I’ll go shopping for a new grey scarf this winter so I can think of her every time I go outside.
Rest in peace and thank you, Nancy Wood.
Saturday, May 25, 2019
So Bernie Wrote an Essay
My Facebook friends include ardent Bernie Sanders supporters as well as those who think his time has come and gone and he needs to sit down and shut up. One in particular – a local politician who constantly pronounces and pontificates and will fight you if your opinion differs – recently slammed Sanders by bringing up the yucky essay that the U.S. Senator from Vermont wrote back in 1972.
I guess it doesn’t matter that Sanders, the 2016 and 2020 presidential candidate who some think was shafted by Debbie Wasserman Schultz and the Democratic National Committee if not Hillary Clinton herself the last time around, supports the Green New Deal, Medicare for All and a living wage.
Or that he wants to expand social security, legalize marijuana and end the resource-wasting “War on Drugs.” Or that he supports Roe v. Wade, wants to repeal the Patriot Act and supports same sex marriage.
Supports net neutrality? Who cares?
Believes climate change is real and we must address it? So what?
Wants to reform student debt and provide free or affordable college to all? Whatever.
Given the anti-Sanders sentiment out there on the left as well as the right, I’m not sure he’s the Trump-annihilating candidate we need right now. What we don’t need, though, are lazy swipes and tabloid-level attacks at politicians who don’t strike our fancy. We don’t need more slime, more mud, more spurious accusations and prurient implications. If you’re going to oppose Bernie Sanders, let it be because you don’t care about campaign finance reform or disagree with the idea that we should only use the American military as a last resort.
Let it be because you think he’s wrong to want to break up the big banks or because you resent that he organized and protested against segregated housing or was at the March on Washington back in 1963. Let it be because you don’t want to tax the rich and close corporate tax loopholes or you don’t support unions or you’re against affordable housing or lowering drug prices.
Don’t base your case on 14 paragraphs of crap that he wrote the same year that Richard Nixon visited China and Mark Spitz won seven gold medals in swimming, for Pete’s sake. You can do better than that.
Sources: Kaiser Family Foundation, The People History, pro-Sanders Facebook groups.
Wednesday, May 8, 2019
Here's a Blog Post
Depression is a motherfucker.
It saps your drive, energy and will to live. It takes away your future and makes you feel hopeless and unmoored. You don’t know where you’re headed so you don’t know how or what to prepare and you’re too tired to prepare for anything or make plans or accept invitations or explore opportunities anyway. It’s a funk indeed.
I’m depressed. I have it. Or I am it. Or I suffer from it or live with it or am learning to survive it. I’m not sure of the correct terminology. But as they say and sing, there’s a memory around every corner and with each memory comes heartache and pain. A lot of pain.
In my case, I’m reeling from the changes that come with an unexpected breakup that wasn’t my choosing and took away my family, home and identity. I played a role – I helped bring about the end, albeit unintentionally – but still, I had no control of the outcome or the process. Nothing’s perfect and that included my relationship with my partner but the sudden removal of her and the kids from my life has been worse than I could have imagined. No one has cancer or has been murdered, I keep telling myself as if that will ease the pain, but it doesn’t matter. I can’t get out of bed. I don’t care if I eat. I don’t make plans or do anything, even things I need to do like update my resume or figure out my next step. It hurts to look at pictures and hear songs and take certain shortcuts and drive on certain roads.
I’m clinging to the thought that this is temporary, that it’s a transitory phase just before something positive happens again. I’m distracting myself by playing Pool Practice and getting lost in the Land of Lord Zuckerberg (aka Facebook) on the new laptop that my parents and sister gave me for my birthday a few weeks ago. I hang out with friends occasionally but not often because that requires energy, teeth-brushing and smiling. I’m not young anymore as at other times in my life when sudden or major changes resulted in upheaval. This time it feels like there’s not a lot of time left for the next phase or incarnation or life event or however you describe what comes next to arrive and settle in.
Add to this anxiety, loneliness, fear (no home or health care), regret, frustration and financial instability and sprinkle some news about the Orange Asshole and the divided states of America on top and you’ve got where I’m at right now. I know there are others having a bad or worse time but that doesn’t heal my wounds. The fact that I could have prevented some of this doesn’t stop me from feeling betrayed and hurt by the results.
I’m not sure why I’m writing this. “What’s the Diehl?” needs fresh content, to be sure, and I haven’t been able to sit down and write about issues or politics or current events because when I come back from my crappy, low-wage job as a service worker, all I want to do is flop onto my bed and pull a blanket over my head. (Did I mention that I’m fortunate to have two fantastic friends who’ve enabled me to escape homelessness by living in their basement rent-free and indefinitely?) I resist doing anything that might lift me out of the place I’m in. No energy to walk upstairs and outside, let alone hit a gym. Yes, I desperately need a better, different job but I’ll get to that tomorrow. There are 20 things I need to do but I’ll get to them later. For now, here’s a blog post.
Life is full of highs and lows, I know. I’ve had some remarkable experiences and come in contact with some really special people. I’ve seen breathtaking beauty. I’ve made babies laugh. I’ve eaten jumbo shrimp while sitting on Dolley Madison’s sofa in the White House as the President of the United States stood nearby. (Don’t worry, I was invited.) I’ve ziplined and danced and hugged and won shit. I’ve stroked purring cats on my lap and hiked through the woods and held hands with the love of my life.
There have been bad times too, of course. I hope this is just one more of them and not the way things are going to be from now on because depression is a motherfucker.
Saturday, February 9, 2019
So Long to the Dean of Twitter
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| Rebecca D'Angelo/The Washington Post |
I can’t say I knew Congressman John Dingell. We were in the same room several times – at the Michigan Democratic Party’s annual Jefferson-Jackson dinners, at meetings and state conventions, at a Michigan League of Conservation Voters tribute at the Ark in Ann Arbor – and I’m Facebook friends with Debbie Dingell, who was married to John for 37 years and who’s represented the 12th District, John’s old district, in Congress since 2015, but I don’t recall being lucky enough to even shake hands with the complex, imposing, charming guy who served in Congress for decades and was known as the Dean of the U.S. House of Representative, the Dean of Michigan’s congressional delegation and the Dean of Twitter.
Too bad. He died two days ago of prostate cancer. Now I’ll never get the chance.
Click here to read “John Dingell kept his Twitter followers entertained until the end.”I used to hear his name a lot. I worked for an environmental organization that supported raising mandatory automobile fuel efficiency standards and the congressman, who had strong ties to the auto industry, was opposed to the idea. He wasn’t referenced angrily or with invectives; he was an opponent on this one issue who deserved respect. He actually voted pro-environment most of the time and was known and lauded for his commitment to public and environmental health.
The many tributes and obituaries that will come out now that he’s gone will provide an in-depth look into Mr. Dingell’s life but even a cursory on-line search turns up interesting tidbits. The Congressman was anti-gun control and pro-NRA. He chaired the U.S. House Energy and Commerce Committee from 1981 to 1995 and from 2007 to 2009. He promoted national health insurance and health care reform long before others. He introduced legislation that created a Civil Rights Division in the Justice Department. He presided over the House when Medicare was passed in 1965. He went after corporate and government fraud. His nicknames were “Big John” and “The Truck” for his forceful nature and his hulking 6-foot, 3-inch frame. He was the longest-serving congressman in American history. He was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom back in 2014 when it still meant something to get a medal from the president.
Click here to read his obituary in the Washington Post.
Speaking of the Washington Post, one of the most read pieces at its website right now is entitled, “John Dingell, My Last Words for America.” Here it is:
John D. Dingell, a Michigan Democrat who served in the U.S. House from 1955 to 2015, was the longest-serving member of Congress in American history. He dictated these reflections to his wife, Rep. Debbie Dingell (D-Mich.), at their home in Dearborn, on Feb. 7, the day he died.
One of the advantages to knowing that your demise is imminent, and that reports of it will not be greatly exaggerated, is that you have a few moments to compose some parting thoughts.
In our modern political age, the presidential bully pulpit seems dedicated to sowing division and denigrating, often in the most irrelevant and infantile personal terms, the political opposition.
And much as I have found Twitter to be a useful means of expression, some occasions merit more than 280 characters.
My personal and political character was formed in a different era that was kinder, if not necessarily gentler. We observed modicums of respect even as we fought, often bitterly and savagely, over issues that were literally life and death to a degree that — fortunately – we see much less of today.
Think about it:
Impoverishment of the elderly because of medical expenses was a common and often accepted occurrence. Opponents of the Medicare program that saved the elderly from that cruel fate called it “socialized medicine.” Remember that slander if there’s a sustained revival of silly red-baiting today.
Not five decades ago, much of the largest group of freshwater lakes on Earth — our own Great Lakes — were closed to swimming and fishing and other recreational pursuits because of chemical and bacteriological contamination from untreated industrial and wastewater disposal. Today, the Great Lakes are so hospitable to marine life that one of our biggest challenges is controlling the invasive species that have made them their new home.
We regularly used and consumed foods, drugs, chemicals and other things (cigarettes) that were legal, promoted and actively harmful. Hazardous wastes were dumped on empty plots in the dead of night. There were few if any restrictions on industrial emissions. We had only the barest scientific knowledge of the long-term consequences of any of this.
And there was a great stain on America, in the form of our legacy of racial discrimination. There were good people of all colors who banded together, risking and even losing their lives to erase the legal and other barriers that held Americans down. In their time, they were often demonized and targeted, much like other vulnerable men and women today.
Please note: All of these challenges were addressed by Congress. Maybe not as fast as we wanted, or as perfectly as hoped. The work is certainly not finished. But we’ve made progress — and in every case, from the passage of Medicare through the passage of civil rights, we did it with the support of Democrats and Republicans who considered themselves first and foremost to be Americans.
I’m immensely proud, and eternally grateful, for having had the opportunity to play a part in all of these efforts during my service in Congress. And it’s simply not possible for me to adequately repay the love that my friends, neighbors and family have given me and shown me during my public service and retirement.
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| John and Debbie Dingell Courtesy Max Ortiz/AP |
In my life and career, I have often heard it said that so-and-so has real power — as in, “the powerful Wile E. Coyote, chairman of the Capture the Road Runner Committee.”
It’s an expression that has always grated on me. In democratic government, elected officials do not have power. They hold power — in trust for the people who elected them. If they misuse or abuse that public trust, it is quite properly revoked (the quicker the better).
I never forgot the people who gave me the privilege of representing them. It was a lesson learned at home from my father and mother, and one I have tried to impart to the people I’ve served with and employed over the years.
As I prepare to leave this all behind, I now leave you in control of the greatest nation of mankind and pray God gives you the wisdom to understand the responsibility you hold in your hands.
May God bless you all, and may God bless America.
Come to think of it, I’m starting to remember one time when Congressman Dingell did smile and wave directly in my direction. Rest in peace and thank you, sir.
Sources: CNN, The Washington Post, Twitter, Wikipedia.
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