zoekeller's Open Salon Blog

President Obama, On Wednesday Be the Man We Campaigned For

Fri, 4 Sep 2009 21:09:04 -0400

If I could write Wednesday's Congressional speech for President Obama, I would focus on leadership, vision and a call-to-action. Why? Because my 15-year0old daughter campainged from Mr. Obama, and asked to go to Washington D.C. on inaugural weekend rather than have a sweet 16 party. She was inspired. And I was inspired by her. Toward the end of the election cycle, we spent hours canvassing neighborhoods together to get out the vote.

Since President Obama has taken office, I've been waiting for him to lead, really lead. And thus far, I have seen too much fence-sitting and not enough leadership. Healthcare, no doubt, is an incredibly complex and devisive issue, but it must be tackled or we will all buckle under its weight.

Rather than leave the specifics to Congress, which simply inspires back-biting and fear-mongering, put a stake in the ground, President Obama. Pull a Franklin Roosevelt or a Lyndon Johnson or a Ronald Reagan or an Abraham Lincoln. Make the hard choice and explain to Americans what must happen and why. Stop running for office just for a little while, and move mountains instead. You may not get re-elected, but at least you will have accomplished something worth accomplishing.

Rather than play it politcally safe, tell Americans that without a carefuly structured public option, healthcare compaies will have no true incentive to bring down costs, and healthcare will continue to be profitcare for executives and shareholders, not patients.

Explain that we simply must make changes to our medical malpractice system or more and more doctors will be forced to join large practices where they are expected to spend as little time with patients as humanly possible, gynocologists won't take new female patients unless they are older than 40, and doctors will order expensive and often unecessary tests for fear of being sued to the tune of $2 million for nothing more than an infected hangnail.

Not everyone will agree with your recommendations, of course, but without leadership on this critical issue, we will continue to pay for our unwillingness to make needed changes to our current system.

President Obama, be the man we campaigned for! Be the man who inspired more than a million people to descend on Washington to welcome you to the White House.

Blast Those 6th Graders and Their Blasted Cell Phones

Tue, 1 Sep 2009 22:09:16 -0400

Well, it's happened again. Today was the first day of school for our 11-year-old. And upon arriving home from school, she did not at first regale us with stories about how funny her first-ever male teacher was or how much fun it was to see all her friends. No, she lamented how left out she felt when all the other little sixth grade girls on her bus exchanged cell phone numbers and texted each other even though there were sitting three feet apart.

"I'm the only sixth-grader without a cell phone," she moaned. "They completely ignored me for the whole bus ride." Translation: All the "cool" girls with the "cool" parents now have cell phones and I don't understand why you won't just get me one.

My husband and I commiserated with her on feeling left out, but stood firm and flatly refused to join the growing crowd of parents in our area who hand over the latest cell phone to their elementary-school-aged children.

I mean really, where is our daughter ever going to be where there isn't an adult present? She goes to school, to her friends' houses, and to the horse barn. And even if the adults around her suddenly decided to drop off the face of the earth, "all" the other kids would have cell phones, so she could just borrow one of theirs to call home and tell us that she was about to be abducted by aliens.

"But, Mom..." It takes everything I have not to launch into a tirade about how ridiculous I think this whole little kid with a cell phone trend is. Not long ago our 16-year-old daughter was mocked for her "pathetic" cell phone by a boy several years younger than she. He said, and I quote, "That's your phone? I had a phone way better than that when I was 9!" For what, I ask? To call your babysitter from the school playground and ask her to bring you a juice box?

Really! So although it's possible that our 11-year-old will someday have to spend 10 years on the couch all becasue her parents wouldn't buy her a cell phone, we're standing tough. She'll just have to stoop to calling her friends on the, uh, what's that thing in the kitchen with the buttons called? Oh yeah, the old folks phone.

Clone Me Up, Buttercup, But Don't Break My Heart

Mon, 31 Aug 2009 22:08:39 -0400

The first time I heard that scientists had cloned a mammal, I was aghast. Why in the world would anyone think that's a good idea, I mused. But now, with two kids, two dogs, a cat, a house, and a "this ain't your standard 40-hour-a-week, full-time job, lady", I say....

Clone me up, buttercup, but don't break my heart. You see, not only do I need another me to clean the bathrooms, cooks the meals, do the shopping, pack the lunches and help with homework, I need one to absorb the body blows that come from my current marital dysfunction. That's where the "don't break my heart" comes in. If there are two of me, then only one of me should have to bear the burden of my broken heart.

The other me can work all day, then be able to put up her feet for a minimum of 2 minutes before launching into the next activity. Yummy.

But wait, there's more. Please sir, I need just one more clone. The third me can deal with medical issues. That's sometimes a full-time job in itself. One of my children has some pretty substantial medical issues that require many visits to the doctor and lots of insurance paperwork. It probably makes sense for this me to bear the burden of my broken heart because she's already knee-deep in worries and sleepness nights.

I don't know about you, but I think we should all have access to three "Me's". Ah, wouldn't it be nice to share the load just every once in a while?

But alas, it's time to get back to reality. First day of school tomorrow!

In my Next Life I want to be a Dog

Sat, 29 Aug 2009 21:08:20 -0400

In my next life, I want to be a dog. Well, let me clarify that a bit. I want to a dog living with a man who loves dogs. For a while now, I've tried to act more like a dog, but doggone it, it's much harder than it looks. We have two dogs and although I've been studying their behavior, I've yet to master it. (No pun intended!)

Here's why. Whenever my husband comes home, actually whenever he even pulls into the driveway, our dogs are consumed with glee. They bark in high pitched, excited tones and run to the door, awaiting their beloved. They run in circles around his feet. "Oh you're home, you're home, you're home. We're so happy to see you!" They never even care if he's two hours later than he said he would be or that he goes right up to his office and boots up his laptop. No, they are just thrilled to follow him like, well, like puppies. "Oh love me, love me, love me. I'll do anything you want. Just give me a little pat on the head!"

And these dogs of ours are always happy to sit quietly at his feet. They don't even talk; they just sit there with their soft brown eyes, waiting for him to give them a belly rub or another pat on the head. Sometimes they'll wait for hours, but they never get tired. And if he tosses them a biscuit, well, there is no limit to their gratitute. They lovingly lick his feet, and then rest their soft heads on his toes, all snuggly and warm.

When the grass has grown too long, they don't see it as an eyesore; they just scamper around happily. "Isn't this fun?" they yip. "This is the best! Overgrown grass is so much better than that neatly trimmed stuff the neighbors insist upon! Oh I love you so much."

They sit when they're told, they stop barking on command (well ,most of the time), and they want abosultely nothing other than for their master to give them a little space at the edge of the bed after a long hard day of sleeping, eating and peeing. Ah, that's the life!

My attempts at being a lap-wife have been a miserable failure. My needs are just too great. So, in my next life I think I shall be a dog. Woof, Woof!

When the Voice in Your Head is Someone Else's

Thu, 27 Aug 2009 18:08:43 -0400

Recently, I had what I would have to call an, NPR out-of-body experience. I was reading the newspaper and came across a book review written by Maureen Corrigan. For those of you who don't know her, she teaches at Georgetown University and write books reviews for newspapers and NPR.

Anyway, I started reading the book review, and then relaized that the voice in my head was no longer my own. It was Maureen Corrigan's! All of the sudden my brain just switched over, and all I could hear was her voice. Okay, so that's a little weird. But then, not three days later I was in the car on my way home from a business trip, when I heard the her voice again. And guess what? She was reading the review that I had recently read in her voice in my house. Freaky. I actually found myself finishing her sentences; although this time it was my voice pretending to be her voice that I was hearing. Double freaky.

She reviewed the book, Best Friends Forever by Jennifer Weiner. Of course, I had to go out and buy it, even though it's still in hardback and I'm fundamentally opposed to buying hardbook books because it's nearly impossible to bend them in half while reading in bed. But... I bought the book. Although I enjoyed it, I'm afraid it fell a little short of what I'd been expecting. Afterall, once Maureen Corrigan's voice is reading to you in your head, you start to expect great things.

Now, if only I could hear her voice instead of my mother's whenever she calls. That would be truly transformative!