Good god, it’s like I don’t even live here anymore.
There was a bit I caught on the radio this evening about how since the 4th of July is considered a day to celebrate our country’s birth, maybe today should be held as a day to grieve, not just a day of cookouts. I do love a good hamburger, though. Anyway, happy Memorial Day, y’all. This is stolen from LesbianDad (source of so many good things), who brought it up from the depths of Democratic Underground. No, I’m neither a Quaker nor a Christian, and yeah, it’s long, but read the whole thing.
A Pacifist’s Memorial Day Pledge
As a Quaker and a Christian, I have been an anti-war activist since I first carried a black banner of mourning in a Memorial Day parade during the Vietnam war. I lived in a small town full of dyed-in-the-wool supporters of the war and President Nixon, who were shocked and scandalized that I was not joining in as they praised the Lord and passed the ammunition. All I could think of was the brothers, fathers, sons, nephews, cousins over there getting their asses shot off because military contractors couldn’t bear to see their profits go down, and hawkish politicos couldn’t bear to admit they were wrong and take their medicine.
They called me “disrespectful” then. I told them I had plenty of respect for the poor guys getting blown to hell and back, but still more respect for those who were honest enough to tell the truth about the war. That I had little respect for those who believed the lies our government was telling them because it was more comfortable that way, and none at all for the greedy bastards telling the lies to make money or stay in power.
I was not very popular.
In some circles, I’m still not. War is an admission of failure. War never solves problems, it only changes the problems’ nature. In the short run, wars can produce change that looks like resolution, but all they really accomplish is to put off the inevitable. Sooner or later, someone will have to deal with the root causes of the problems; the only question is how many wars do we want to have to delay that necessity?
And wars are always more expensive than addressing the root causes of the problems. We do little to deal with social and economic and political injustice because of the price tag, yet the price tag in lives and dollars of the wars that inevitably result from those injustices is infinitely higher. And the longer we put it off, the higher the price.
Are some wars inevitable? Are some necessary for survival? Is it possible for war to be a lesser evil?
Yes. But only because we first committed the greater evil of ignoring the causes of war. Committing that greater evil can sometimes make war the lesser evil, but all the greater tragedy for that.
We do not live in a perfect world. Not everyone shares my views. Sometimes military action can be part of a solution, when we have already procrastinated too long or been too stingy to solve the problems in their early stages, when non-military solutions are still possible. In an imperfect world, even a pacifist can benefit from the presence of a strong, committed, ethical military, led by men and women of integrity and dedicated only to defending the helpless and being the last resort against tyranny.
I am deeply grateful for the benefits such a military conveys upon me. I know that I would not have the freedom to pursue my pacifist agenda without their strong shield in this dangerous world. How very ironic, isn’t it?
I recognize the unhappy necessity of their existence, and I recognize the individual courage, commitment, and devotion each member of the services has shown to protecting me. In return, I pledge this: I will never rest from my efforts to ensure that every single other solution is tried before sending you into harm’s way. Your willingness to sacrifice your lives for me demands nothing less.
And I pledge this:
To uphold my own commitment to the well-being of you and your families, in gratitude for your commitment to protect me and my freedom.
- I will support fair and generous compensation, including educational and retirement benefits, for your service.
- I will support the highest quality medical care and treatment for you and your families.
- I will support—and demand—that the training and equipment given to every service member is of the highest quality available to ensure their safety on the battlefield.
- I will demand that the elected leadership to whom your commanders are ultimately responsible hold themselves personally accountable for your safety, in all decisions pertaining to sending you in harm’s way.
And I will continue to work, every single day, to advance the skill of humanity to solve our problems without resorting to war.
I shared this pledge once, many years ago, with my father, who was a Marine. He listened, and I thought he would point out how silly and idealistic I was being. There was a funny expression on his face by the time I was done and I thought he was going to tear into me, for sure. For my “disrespect,” maybe, or my “impractical” dreams. I didn’t realize at first that he was trying not to shed tears (because Marines don’t, ya know.)
Finally he said, softly. “Hoo-raw, baby. Semper fi,” and caught me up in a big hug. I miss him so much.
Happy Memorial Day, Daddy. Semper fi, from your pacifist little girl.
Did you think I was? Oh, internets. I’ve missed you. There’s all sorts of news, but y’all will have to live in the dark a while longer, because it’s late enough for me to go to bed.
I am, as I think I noted, back at the theater and it’s fab. But busy, which I’d sort of forgotten. More to come, I swear.
Worthy of quick note:
*sperm washed and IUI-ed on Friday. Seems to be a sort of don’t ask, don’t tell type of thing.
*home insem Saturday.
*finally got a peak from old Clear Blue. On Sunday. *sigh* Too late for the IUI, and also, I think, for the home insem. Who the fuck knows. Nothing darker than a ghost on the opks. Weird, yes? Could I have gotten a bad batch? And how the hell do I know when to start the prometrium with no positive opks to go on?
*school mother’s day gifts done and done – 6 days of school left. Six. Yay.
*special home project due to start tomorrow – woo!
Lunch: left overs from last nights’ dinner with cho-girl, which we ate prior to Fertility Hennaz™ – white beans with a nice bit of bacon for tastiness, beet greens with tiny, tiny beets still attached, and orange slices from snack. Log your lunch, y’all. You know you want to.bonus pic – fertility hennaz™ (there are some on my belly of course, but I didn’t get a picture of those in their finished state)
Today’s lunch: lamb summer sausage from the sheep’s milk cheese lady, cucumber from the hothouse farm south of town, strawberries from some of the tidewater farms, sourdough (!) with butter. All local all the time. Except then I went a ruined it by scrounging some ranch dressing from Kraft or something like that.
Day’s of school left: 11. That’s eleven, in case you’re counting, which I am.
Still no word from the sperm washing guy. Hmmmm. May be another DIY insem.
Quick, while the popcorms are doing their thing on the stovetop.
*2 nights of dress rehearsal and one tornado watch
*mother’s day gifts done and done (whew)
*recovering black cat and multiple meds plus new diet of canned food (also whew and eewww)
*additional meds for me (day 2 of femara)
*message left for guy in charge of sperm washing machine
*semi-surly pre-teen carted around
*jambalya made by my roommate (good food in the house that I didn’t make?! yay!)
*gimlets on the back deck with I (gimlets – woo! back deck – woo!)
And lunches. Yesterday and today: weird pseudo-humus thing on pita with chips and doctored-up salsa. Also known as Mother’s Day Lunch in the primary classes that trickles down to the lowly toddler teachers. Decent with bonus lack of lunch packing. Log your lunch, y’all.
Time was, the black cat (like how I maintain my pets’ internet anonymity?) was somewhat princess-like. Not in a good way. Back in the day when I lived with LB, “princess” was a derogatory term in our house.
Anyway. We trundled off to the vet this afternoon – crying all the way. Her, not me. She hates the car. The vet poked and prodded her for a good long while and examined the (2!) stool samples I’d helpfully brought in. And I stood there with my crying cat and waited. It turns out she was seriously dehydrated and has some intestinal parasite whose name I forget. He gave her some subcutaneous fluids* – which he described as making her “like a little camel” – two different kinds of medicine – liquid and pills – and told me to call on Friday to let them know how she is. Unless it gets worse. Which it seems to not be. She is on the couch with her brother, sitting in a sort of weird way, but she did just wash her face, which she hasn’t done in days.
Cat drama ended. Well, except for the doses of medicine. She loves medicine! Woo.
Also, I seem to be back at the theater. Woo!
*N.B. I did not administer, nor did I see administered, said sub-q fluids. Nor do I know if “sub-q” is short for subcutaneous. However, this link looks very informative, so if you need “sub-q” fluids for your pet, I just might be your girl.
Ok, so the cat is really sick (the black one, which makes me want to cry) and I have to run her to the vet and Sophie to soccer in a minute, but I know y’all want to hear the news from the RE as much as you wanted to see my ass.
My prog numbers from last cycle came back really off – from 11.3 down to 1.something. This is so off that the RE wonders if there was some sort of lab error. Anyway, the thought, as you know, is that femara doesn’t do shit to boost my prog. He’s up for adding prometrium to the mix with the 2.5 mg of femara and calling it a day. And my ovaries are “quiet” and my uterine lining is nice and thin so off we go – wheeeeee! CD 4, y’all. It’s CD 4.
Sperm update shortly – so far so good, as the kids say.
Lunch: yesterday there was not really any lunch, I scrounged from the dregs of the snack cabinet and ended up with cheese with the mold cut off and triscuits plus some almost ready for the compost melon. But today! Today was left over chicken (breast this time, but don’t read anything into that) with psuedo-fancy sauce (mayo mixed with roast garlic) and asparagus with Bragg’s and lime (no lemons in the house). That link’s just for you, Clemency.
Count down: 14.
Log your lunch, y’all. I have to somewhat frantically pull together mother’s day gifts for 13.
Sixteen days of school left.
ETA – this is the kid who removed the bird from it’s cage. I know you wanted to see him. And my butt. I know you wanted to see my butt.
May 4th, 1970.
Rocks are not the equal to guns.
Speaking out on injustice is right.
May we all strive more strongly toward peace.
All heads bow towards Ohio.
Let’s count down to the end of school, shall we?
As of today we are at…… 3 weeks and 2 days. Or 17 days. 5 of those days will be spent trying to pull together Mother’s Day gifts. Hahahahahahahahaha.
Lunch: leftover white beans and spinach over pasta (the highlight of this dish is the bacon), also leftover blanched asparagus dressed with – you guessed it – olive oil and Bragg’s and leftover from snack cantaloupe. Really a far better lunch than yesterday in all ways.
Don’t you want to hear from me fourty-eleven times today?
In my pre-bedtime blog cruising, I did I quick drive by of Dean’s Live Journal, because I heart him on account of The Most Romantic Moment of My Life that took place in the falling snow under a small tree and a street light on Altamont st back during the freak spring storm of ’93, when we were tiny children. Anyway, he hardly ever posts anymore of on old LJ, but I check every now and then. He links to this article, which warrents another glass of whiskey and a more thorough rereading by me (I was so excited I had to blog it before I gave it a real go). Equate gin and television and throw around terms like “cognitive surplus” and I am putty in your hands.
ETA: And shit like this? Yeah, boy. That’s what I’m talking about.
And I’m willing to raise that to a general principle. It’s better to do something than to do nothing. Even lolcats, even cute pictures of kittens made even cuter with the addition of cute captions, hold out an invitation to participation. When you see a lolcat, one of the things it says to the viewer is, “If you have some sans-serif fonts on your computer, you can play this game, too.” And that’s message–I can do that, too–is a big change.
And also this:
media is actually a triathlon, it ‘s three different events. People like to consume, but they also like to produce, and they like to share.
Because yes, yes we do. Lord. Just go read it already.
(Disclaimer – I love lolcats. I do)