What about the hormones they’ve been plopping in our meat and chickens for years? Sometimes we are so stupid, go right along supporting ‘the almighty dollar’ over good sense over and over. YUK!

P. S. Has anyone else noticed that ‘something’ is going on in the ‘he/she’ world. Look at the longer, almost long curl hair styles seen on CNN as well as in town more and more. I shop via catalog and so many of the clothes are blouses with short, puffy sleeves, or little ties or bows in the back, tops with peplums. As far as I can see, many of the dresses are the ‘decent dresses’ that women wore a Jackie Kennedy ago or they look like dresses housewives wore in the ’30s. Sumthin is going on he/she wise! Does anyone else have any observations or comments on this?

Thanx for the good advice, Marlo. Thanx to your Dad, too. I was also a girl who loved to play jacks. Still do; have my very old and rough turquoise leather jack bag with jacks still stashed away. But we neighborhood girls have to put up with one another. No Margaret O’Brien! :):):):) P.S. Did you beat her?

Happy Birthday, WOWOWOW! Good job ladies. I like your changes, think they will be helpful in following conversations. Also, WELCOME Cynthia McFadden, a former fellow Marinite if I’m not mistaken.

Hope no one minds my posting this poem again. I posted it last night because I thought it added to the discussion about women today and Michelle Obama and Cindy McCain. No idea where I posted it, but it weren’t where it shoulda been. So I’m posting it here in the discussion where it belongs. Hope you like it, and it paints a picture for all of you. After previewing my entry, have to say I hope it comes out written like a poem and not just one big happy statement. You can probably separate it as it should be, think those places are fairly obvious. Geez,. I talk a lot! :):):):) Zorri! Pretty Pastel Ladies Pretty pastel ladies in a blood-red-world pose a passive promise in their peach and pink and pearls. Pretty pastel ladies wear rubber band smiles and ask curtsied nods from friends. Promenading graceful delicacy to tell, they merely dabble in their Will. Only luring courtly gentlemen to picnics on a hill. Taking cover in hues-of-armour, absolution in coats of forget-me-nots. They use fragrant whiffs and frippery as vanishing cream, to say, I’m not, I’m not, I’m not. Why should we wear our virtuoso like virgin virtuosity? Hide sharp edges in patient handmade French seams? When rather, we would wear ourselves, walk arm-in-arm with you. Weaving history, drinking sunsets, to accomplish an eloquent fuse. BUT, Pretty pastel ladies in a blood-red-world, must parlay misty statements of peach and pink and pearls into sustenance and conjuring gossamer mysteries that hint, of girl, of girl of girl. C, Jenny Houston Tiburon, California Spring, 1976

My father was a prize fighter and insisted that I learn to defend myself. I didn’t much care for that idea at the time, but seem to have learned it anyway.

Teresa’s right, sexism does still reign. As well, somethings going on out there. Has anybody else noticed the new longer, curly hair styles for women, even on CNN, shades of Scarlett O’Hara, and the cute little blouses with puffed sleeves and peplins on blouses and and two piece dresses. AND, have you gotten a load of the new summer dresses. YUK! Looks like housewife dresses of the 30s. Somethings going on out there in this here our country, ladies. Feels like back to the kitchen, pregnant and barefoot to me. Our society has simply not yet come to a balance between the hes and the shes. I hope we can do that at some point along the near future way, but not sure.

I’ll try again. My computer did one of those mysterious computer thingis when I first tried to tell you about Immaculee Ilibaagiza, a Rawandan woman, a Tutsi, in Rawanda during the horrible slaughter of thousands of Tutsis. It is an incredible story of her survival with several other young women in a small bathroom for weeks during that period. An amazing story, an EXCELLENT book.

Given the poem, “Pretty Pastel Ladies” I stashed somewhere on this subject, I am worried a bit about Michelle Obama. It could painfully be that she does need to tone it down a bit just because still, only a small portion, of USA guys can handle or appreciate strong, intelligent women like Michelle. At first, Barack was coming across as henpecked, but they have changed that rhetoric. Nonetheless, she is a strong woman who can and has made it on her own as well as being a black woman. That’s gonna scare a lot a folks — sad, but true. Our goal, I hope, is to get Barack elected as President of the United States of America. She doesn’t need to start wearing aprons — God forbid, but the usual, necessary caution women have been stradled with over centuries may still be in order for very practical reasons.

Mary’s right about Michelle and Barack Obama. I loved her description of their marriage: “They have a dancing marriage that has spirit.” Yummmm!e. My contribution to the comments of then — and Now ! A poem. Pretty Pastel Ladies Pretty pastel ladies in a blood red world, Pose a passive promise in their peach and pink and pearls. Pretty pastel ladies wear rubber band smiles, and ask, curtsied nods from friends. Promenading graceful delicacy to tell they merely dabble in their Will, Only luring courtly gentlemen to picnics on a hill. Taking cover in hues-of-armour; Absolution in coats of forget-me-nots, they use, fragrant whiffs and frippery as vanishing cream to say, I’m not, I’m not, I’m not. Why should we wear our virtuoso like virgin virtuosity? Hide sharp edges in patient, handmade French seams? When rather, we would wear ourselves, walk hand-in-hand with you, Weaving history, drinking sunsets To accomplish an eloquent fuse. But, Pretty pastel ladies in a blood red world, Must parlay misty statements of peach and pink and pearls Into sustenance and conjuring gossamer mysteries that hint, Of girl, of girl, of girl. C, Jenny Houston Tiburon, California Spring, 1979

Tim Russert’s death left a big hole in the Universe. He was a fine, special human being.

I was raised a Roman Catholic, baptized immediately after my first breath. Religious education began, for me, when I started first grade in a Catholic school — with nuns, backed almost superstitiously by my Irish Catholic family. I began to leave the Church when I was about 18, left it entirely when I was about 25. It then took me a good ten years to decide I wasn’t going to hell for my crass departure from the Church (so don’t worry Liz), and I pretty much stopped going to any church more than occasionally over the next 10 years. I started to wander back to church when my kids were about 9,10 — nothing serious. The Unitarian Church in Berkeley was my first stop (fine choice), but I continued to dabble with occasional visits to various other churches and other ideas for about the next twenty years. As I said, nothing serious. Around 50, I felt a compulsion to learn more about religion and spirituality. New Age stuff began to appear about then and there were some good ideas and good thinking therein, but finally decided it just wan’t deep enough for me. I joined a beautiful United Community Church on a hill overlooking the San Francisco Bay which was supportive and a mix of old fashioned Christianity and New Age revelations. Finally, I wandered off to the Community Church near me of which I’m still a member — ya gotta belong somewhere or so I felt, at least I WANTED to belong somewhere. The first minister at my neighborhood church was a man of unique thinking who reached out in all directions. He seemed to feel as I did, so he and his parishoners were clearly a part of my religious education. As well, The San Francisco Bay Area, maybe especially Marin County, was wide open to spiritual wanderings and New Age ideas. I had also read a trillion books over the years, or so it seemed — Krishnamurti, Pierre de Chardin, Hesse, Bertram Russel, Alan Watts, most major philosophers and dozens of others I can’t really remember. Even threw a little Dr. Phil in there. Finally about 7 years ago, after making a short ‘look/see’ at Buddhism, which I found interesting and useful, but simply not satisfying at the level I was looking for — please don’t ask me to describe or explain that level. Next I spent the winter TRYING to read the Tibetean “Book of the Dead’. That was a lovely winter, especially cold, so evenings spent in front of a little bedroom heater that glowed a cheerful bright red was a happy time. My conclusions from that winter —these people have been trying to figure this ‘What’s it all about thing?’ out for thousands of years, with no solid conclusions it seemed to me, so who was I to attempt all this ‘figuring’? I ‘deduced’ that there is definately ‘something’ out there and nobody knows what it is — and we probably never will. It was clear that I believed in ‘God’! I had always had a sense of ‘God’ from very early childhood, way before me religious education began/ But npw, I began to attempt to put my feelings into words. Believe me, that isn’t easy!. So far I have: ‘God’ is an essence that we all swim in everyday. This essence is a kind of a glowing golden, pink mist comprised of Intelligence, Awareness and Connection. I’m sure there’s more, but so far I haven’t been able to find any more words that seem to fit. I think, perhaps, one of the main functions of this essence — ‘God’ — is connection. ‘God’ is the mechanism through which we are all connected, and when we periodically, as it seems we all do, lose that connection, all we have to do it reach out to be reconnected. I’m no longer Christian. I think Christ, Mohammed and Buddha are special entities the Hindus call adepts that are more evolved than most of us. So I’m stuck, for now, just being one of those nebulous souls that, so far, can only claim ‘spirituality’ as their ‘religion’. I would like to belong to a community of people with ‘spirituality’ as their basis. But so far I’m having to make do with my neighborhood United Church of Christ — a lovely group of people . A friend and I spent the last year visiting churches in the Bay Area. An interesting adventure, especially visiting the ‘Black’ church in Marin City where a ten year old boy took on the drums to create a wonderful Hallelula service. I’ve joined the Institute of Noetic Science founded by Edgar Mitchell, one of the astronauts who walked on the moon and had a spiritual experience on his way back to Earth — that beautiful blue and white planet he saw suspended in space. Come November, I’ll cruise with a whole boat full of people trying to understand ‘God’ and the nature and purpose of being human. Currently I’m reading Edgar Mitchell’s book, ‘The Way of the Explorer’ and Karen Armstrong’s, ‘The History of God’ — a book explaining the evolution of religion over time. I wholeheartedly recommend both books to anyone wanderng around trying to find their way as I am.

P.S. And yes, it’s true, we humans often have a tendency, even a reckless tendency, to turn assumptions into facts — just as scientists sometimes do. However, if one assumption after another piles into a heap of assumptions or suspicions, then maybe you DO have a ‘heap of assumptions or suspicions’ that begin to shape themselves into a fact ur, durn close.

Eleanor, science is not the be all and end all it often purports to be. Science commonly forgets that a part of its observations and predicitions are mere human perceptions and interpretations — many of which have proved wrong or not exactly as they were thought to be.

I’m betwixed amd between in my reaction to Scott McClellean’s ‘tell all’. On the one hand, I think — “finally, thank God”. On the other hand: gotta wonder about his reasons. I’m very uncomfortable with the whole thing no matter which stand we take. Someone in the media suggested we charge Bush and Buddies and handmaiden Buddietts with war crimes. Hate to say it, but this idea appeals to me a lot more than I think it should. I think such a charge makes sense, even if it comes from another country/countries. My wish for the man who holds our presidency just now is that the face of every single soldier killed or seriously wounded in Iraq because of his nonsensical, immature thinking pass through his dreams every night for the rest of his life. We should probably toss in all the Iraqis killed or injured and the Iraqi children orphaned as well. Poor man would get no rest at all, and I find it hard to care. Hope most of you saw Colonel McMasters (think I got the rank right) and the other gentleman, whose name I can’t remember, on Friday night’s program. Finally, some people are looking at the world and we humans as we really are. We are all treading on territory where none have tread before. Our world has gotten smaller as it grows larger. We, all of us, need to shift gears soon and as fast as possible if we’re the least bit interested in survival. We need new ways — all of us inhabiting Mother Earth — of being human. I was so impressed with Charlie’s guests Friday night, I plan to watch the show again at Noon on Monday when it replays here in our area. Thanx, Charlie, for bringing us the new voices and new thinking so sorely needed. Praise Allah!