joshua and ezra, dear sons,
if you have the time, please try and remember that this coming monday/tuesday is the jewish new year celebration.
it's a good moment to pause to remember your family's story and the cyclical start of a new year, once again, in the jewish world. i don't recall the exact year, but, i believe, it's said that the hebrew world began about 5769 years ago-- or something like that. either way, it's an impressive number of years in a dog's life, even a poor human being's.
as you know, the jews are known to have long memories. it's our blessing and curse. this veil of joys and tears.
as elie wiesel put it at the end of his novel 'the gates of the forest', 'may you be honest, humble and strong'.
or, what the irish mr. yeats called, 'this rag and bone shop of the heart'...
(the irish and jews lovers of language, poetry, misshapen g-ds and the sound of the word.)
of course, an annual, iterative, joyful celebration of the jewish new year doesn't answer any of the elemental questions that you both ask. and, ask so poignantly as young men setting out odysseus-like in our modern world full of turmoil and doubts...
(we, my generation, had dreams of offering you, our children, a rare millennium, shambala or tushita heaven, but, alas, in our vainglory have found only what others before us have learned: the dream of peace, compassion & humility is rarely achieved while the hubris and egoism of our race remains as profound as its aspirations...)
but, dear sons, you have been raised like good jewish-thakali yeshiva students to always ask the good question and seek the spirit of g-d in all of our works here on earth. it's not that you'll always find that moving spirit here (especially late at night when doing your homework...), but the search for life's meaning is intimately tied up with that very human quest for purpose and identity. it's one of our more noble attributes, actually.
thus, as the rabbis, rimpoches and gurus have said through the ages: remember to praise g-d (the spirit or dharma-dhatu which animates us), love your family and, while alive in the neighborhood, do a bit of good by which to be remembered.
if you make your friends laugh, your sister happy, your grandparents proud and your parents remember the joys of your childhood, you will have brought the true spirit of 'the lord, our g-d, praise be he' (as it says in the ancient jewish scripture) among your closest, truest and most beloved community.
let's remember what our dearly loved friend robin used to say, like the biblical prophet he was: "go out and make the world a bit less miserable" for ourselves, for others and, especially, for the ones we love.
may g-d have mercy on us all.
we love you, sons, deeply and forever,
mom and dad
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Jerry's Medicine Puja in Kathmandu
This afternoon Ms. Leah, my friend, Christopher, and I trundled down the backstreets of Kathmandu along Indrachowk via Durbar Square to Tahaity to visit the Rimpoche we affectionately call, 'Tip-Top'.
It was a few days after the main Indra Jatra festival, so we stopped by the Indra Temple to offer our respects to the good g-d Indra, still out in public view in all of his silver masked glory. Then continued by the main Taleju temples, looking even more 'rato' (red) and resplendent after the recent election of a Maoist government in Nepal. I wanted to show Leah the massive black statue of the g-d of Time in front of Hanuman Dhoka and the golden mask of Indra (where a bamboo reed from the mouth of the mask spouts local beer at the start of the festival) unveiled only at this time of year.
This being the Kali Yuga, and Kathmandu being the modern mess it's become, we endured motorcycle-people-bicycle traffic jams walking from Durbar Square toward Thamel through the narrow lanes of the old city. Yet, Ms. Leah, even after a full and rewarding day of Second Grade was not wearied by our long march through Nepal's living past. With her eyes wide open and her hand tightly clutching mine, she kept pace with us as we narrowly avoided two and four wheel traffic.
At last, a peaceful haven appears in the form of the stupa that is known as "Little Swayambunath" on the backstreets of Tahaity. It's a large courtyard with the lovely, white stupa rising in the middle and the Drubgon Jangchup Choeling Monastery set off back from the crowded, commercial mean streets of Kathmandu.
Christopher's guided us here to meet his beloved Rimpoche so that we can ask for a puja to be done for Jerry. While we wait upstairs in the ante-chamber, Chris buys some 'kata' (white silk blessing scarves) to present to Rimpoche and a younger attendant brings us some much appreciated orange squash to drink. After a few minutes, we're invited in to see "Tip-Top".
The aged and gentle Rimpoche is in a small room overlooking the courtyard sitting quietly on his bed below a large, almost life-sized thangka of Avalokitshevara (the thousand-armed) image of the Buddha of Compassion. There are Tibetan carpets covering the floor, images of His Holiness the Dalai Lama and other Buddhist iconography on the walls.
Chris makes his ritual thrice prostrations on the floor in front of Rimpoche as a manifestation of his devotion and respect for the Buddha (Spirit incarnate), Dharma (Teachings) and Sangha (Buddhist community) represented by Rimpoche's spirit and teachings. He then comes up to give the kata and receive a blessing from the Rimpoche.
Leah and I, still of our Jewish persuasion (although Ms. Leah may not yet fully understand that...), bow deeply in front of this profoundly human teacher and spiritual guide. I place Leah in front of me as we come close to Rimpoche. She, quite naturally, bows before him while he holds both sides of her head and offers a prayer. I follow and feel the soothing loving-kindness of Rimpoche's blessing on our lives and the journey which brings us all together in this modest sacred space today.
Then, through the young Tibetan monk attendant I explain in Nepali about Jerry and his recent illness. I say that I was with Jerry just a few weeks ago when he became ill and entered an American hospital. I say that Jerry loves Nepal almost as much as our home country America. Then, I correct myself and say, 'as much as America', with which I believe Jerry would agree. I mention that Jerry worked here in Nepal some decades ago with the US Peace Corps. Then, I mention that I'd like to offer a puja for Jerry's health and happiness. The young Tibetan monk translates this into Tibetan for Rimpoche while we listen.
Tip-Top recommends a Medicine Buddha puja (ceremony) for Jerry. He also gives me a prescription of Tibetan medicine that I can bring back to the US when I come in mid-October.
The puja will be next Monday at 9 am at the gompa (roughly 11 am Sunday night EST).
As we depart, Leah takes a ride on Christopher's old, red bike through the streets of Kathmandu. A few corners away, we depart. Chris heads home to Maharajganj while Leah and I walk through Bohaity back to Shakun's boutique on Durbar Marg from where we will head home, too. We smile at each other through the din and dank of a decaying Kathmandu, a city where we have lived half of our lives, as we part, once again, and head back our separate ways.
Recalling:
Life's constant passage;
Buoyed by friendship.
An uncertain journey
We share,
Gladly,
Before we wave and say,
'Again!'
It was a few days after the main Indra Jatra festival, so we stopped by the Indra Temple to offer our respects to the good g-d Indra, still out in public view in all of his silver masked glory. Then continued by the main Taleju temples, looking even more 'rato' (red) and resplendent after the recent election of a Maoist government in Nepal. I wanted to show Leah the massive black statue of the g-d of Time in front of Hanuman Dhoka and the golden mask of Indra (where a bamboo reed from the mouth of the mask spouts local beer at the start of the festival) unveiled only at this time of year.
This being the Kali Yuga, and Kathmandu being the modern mess it's become, we endured motorcycle-people-bicycle traffic jams walking from Durbar Square toward Thamel through the narrow lanes of the old city. Yet, Ms. Leah, even after a full and rewarding day of Second Grade was not wearied by our long march through Nepal's living past. With her eyes wide open and her hand tightly clutching mine, she kept pace with us as we narrowly avoided two and four wheel traffic.
At last, a peaceful haven appears in the form of the stupa that is known as "Little Swayambunath" on the backstreets of Tahaity. It's a large courtyard with the lovely, white stupa rising in the middle and the Drubgon Jangchup Choeling Monastery set off back from the crowded, commercial mean streets of Kathmandu.
Christopher's guided us here to meet his beloved Rimpoche so that we can ask for a puja to be done for Jerry. While we wait upstairs in the ante-chamber, Chris buys some 'kata' (white silk blessing scarves) to present to Rimpoche and a younger attendant brings us some much appreciated orange squash to drink. After a few minutes, we're invited in to see "Tip-Top".
The aged and gentle Rimpoche is in a small room overlooking the courtyard sitting quietly on his bed below a large, almost life-sized thangka of Avalokitshevara (the thousand-armed) image of the Buddha of Compassion. There are Tibetan carpets covering the floor, images of His Holiness the Dalai Lama and other Buddhist iconography on the walls.
Chris makes his ritual thrice prostrations on the floor in front of Rimpoche as a manifestation of his devotion and respect for the Buddha (Spirit incarnate), Dharma (Teachings) and Sangha (Buddhist community) represented by Rimpoche's spirit and teachings. He then comes up to give the kata and receive a blessing from the Rimpoche.
Leah and I, still of our Jewish persuasion (although Ms. Leah may not yet fully understand that...), bow deeply in front of this profoundly human teacher and spiritual guide. I place Leah in front of me as we come close to Rimpoche. She, quite naturally, bows before him while he holds both sides of her head and offers a prayer. I follow and feel the soothing loving-kindness of Rimpoche's blessing on our lives and the journey which brings us all together in this modest sacred space today.
Then, through the young Tibetan monk attendant I explain in Nepali about Jerry and his recent illness. I say that I was with Jerry just a few weeks ago when he became ill and entered an American hospital. I say that Jerry loves Nepal almost as much as our home country America. Then, I correct myself and say, 'as much as America', with which I believe Jerry would agree. I mention that Jerry worked here in Nepal some decades ago with the US Peace Corps. Then, I mention that I'd like to offer a puja for Jerry's health and happiness. The young Tibetan monk translates this into Tibetan for Rimpoche while we listen.
Tip-Top recommends a Medicine Buddha puja (ceremony) for Jerry. He also gives me a prescription of Tibetan medicine that I can bring back to the US when I come in mid-October.
The puja will be next Monday at 9 am at the gompa (roughly 11 am Sunday night EST).
As we depart, Leah takes a ride on Christopher's old, red bike through the streets of Kathmandu. A few corners away, we depart. Chris heads home to Maharajganj while Leah and I walk through Bohaity back to Shakun's boutique on Durbar Marg from where we will head home, too. We smile at each other through the din and dank of a decaying Kathmandu, a city where we have lived half of our lives, as we part, once again, and head back our separate ways.
Recalling:
Life's constant passage;
Buoyed by friendship.
An uncertain journey
We share,
Gladly,
Before we wave and say,
'Again!'
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
The Floods! The Floods!
welcome to the monsoon on the hills outside of kathmandu!
there was massive flooding on the w/end in upper budhanilkantha. i didn't realize what had happened until i took leah to the bus stop on monday morning. although coming out of our gate i did wonder why there was so much debris on the road in front of our home. but, it was only when i began walking up the hill that i realized that something wicked had happened during the night.
the first sign was about 2-3' of the main road that had been washed away just a few hundred feet above our turn-off. the whole side for about 30'++ disappeared when the wall below broke and left a gutter of about 3-4' deep which had been the road before. if it keeps raining in september and october, then more of the main road may slip down that hill toward the temple by the river, as well... even now the lincoln bus doesn't go past our lane due to the damage to the main road.
as i walked uphill alot of villagers were gathered by the temple in the river, where the 'khola' (river) had surrounded the huge bamboo clumps and washed down both sides -- not to mention taking out the dirt road heading north above the bridge along that 'stream'.
but it was only when i got to the top of the road, by the vipassana center, at the far end of keno's land that i saw the devastation that had happened that night.
actually that river is really usually just a stream, as you know. however, there must have been a serious landslide above or a new underground river broke through up on shivapuri ridge. there was debris 20' on both sides of the stream bed. in fact, the stream had risen higher than 8' up on the beautiful large bamboo by the stream, leaving debris well above my head!
then, i walked down what had previously been a trail, but now was just a river gorge w/ no sign of the trail that we had always walked in the past. to may amazement, there were huge 6' boulders in the stream that hadn't been there before.
as i walked down, mouth slightly agape at the power of this once gentle stream, i saw that 40' of keno's lovely 10' high brick wall was gone. the stream that had become a river had moved inside his land somehow in the night. then, needing a route back downhill, broke through his well-constructed wall -- leaving no sign of the thousands of bricks anywhere in sight! just destruction. the new local water tap that had been built by the stream was smashed and broken. part of the cement base was overturned and in the expanded river bed. that new cement house that the water entrepeneurs had erected by the 'khola' lost its room closest to the river with debris piled as high as the structure itself. the water simply poured down with an amazing, relentless power.
then, as i walked down to binod choudhary's a-frame home in the upper budhanilkantha village, i realized why steve and penny told me (when i called them a few minutes earlier to ask if they'd seen the destruction...) that they hadn't been able to make it up through the debris in the village. what had been the paved road through the village and behind tashi's to the ridge above where swami is planning to build some homes, was completely gone. nada. nothing. goneski.
where there were modest stretches of the road left, the water course was three feet below with the muddy river swirling in delight as if to say that it was never going to give up this newfound urgent path down the hill. ever. never. no.
as i approached, i saw that 20' of binod's large wall along the road was gone. stretches of his sharp-edged metal gilding on the top of his wall was a couple hundred feet further down the stream smashed and crumpled from the power of the water, boulders and debris. quite impressive, as long as it wasn't your wall and iron protective railing. nearby there were individual family water pipes twisted and turned into free-form pretzels with slews of electrical cable tossed amid the piles of wood and tree trunks that had come down in the landslide and torrent through the night.
groups of people were standing around in a daze just looking at the damage done. sadly, one 15 year old tamang girl up the hillside had died that night when her house collapsed and they couldn't get her to the hospital in time. fortunately few other homes had collapsed. although a few vehicles that were parked on the road had sunk in the muck and been smashed by debris and looked unlikely to start without a major overhaul -- if ever.
clearly, this local road isn't going to be repaired easily or only by the community themselves. today, the kind-hearted local guruji who lives on the main road with the peepul tree in his yard told me that they estimated that it would take 3 crore (30 million rupees/$500,000) to fix all of the damage. not exactly spare change for the folks up here.
fortunately, the torrent of water (think of the arno river behind the enigmatic smile of ms. mona lisa) turned back into the earlier main river bed just by the monastery and followed the curve of the land below an around lisa choegyal's home, thus avoiding any serious damage down our way. part of the river did go past the gompa (monastery) and then took a left and then a right straight up to gunnar's front gate, where a few feet of debris was piled -- but that was the only modest evidence of the serious damage done above in the village.
as we have said before: never under-estimate the power of the himalaya, particularly the monsoon waters that pour off these massive hills...
there was massive flooding on the w/end in upper budhanilkantha. i didn't realize what had happened until i took leah to the bus stop on monday morning. although coming out of our gate i did wonder why there was so much debris on the road in front of our home. but, it was only when i began walking up the hill that i realized that something wicked had happened during the night.
the first sign was about 2-3' of the main road that had been washed away just a few hundred feet above our turn-off. the whole side for about 30'++ disappeared when the wall below broke and left a gutter of about 3-4' deep which had been the road before. if it keeps raining in september and october, then more of the main road may slip down that hill toward the temple by the river, as well... even now the lincoln bus doesn't go past our lane due to the damage to the main road.
as i walked uphill alot of villagers were gathered by the temple in the river, where the 'khola' (river) had surrounded the huge bamboo clumps and washed down both sides -- not to mention taking out the dirt road heading north above the bridge along that 'stream'.
but it was only when i got to the top of the road, by the vipassana center, at the far end of keno's land that i saw the devastation that had happened that night.
actually that river is really usually just a stream, as you know. however, there must have been a serious landslide above or a new underground river broke through up on shivapuri ridge. there was debris 20' on both sides of the stream bed. in fact, the stream had risen higher than 8' up on the beautiful large bamboo by the stream, leaving debris well above my head!
then, i walked down what had previously been a trail, but now was just a river gorge w/ no sign of the trail that we had always walked in the past. to may amazement, there were huge 6' boulders in the stream that hadn't been there before.
as i walked down, mouth slightly agape at the power of this once gentle stream, i saw that 40' of keno's lovely 10' high brick wall was gone. the stream that had become a river had moved inside his land somehow in the night. then, needing a route back downhill, broke through his well-constructed wall -- leaving no sign of the thousands of bricks anywhere in sight! just destruction. the new local water tap that had been built by the stream was smashed and broken. part of the cement base was overturned and in the expanded river bed. that new cement house that the water entrepeneurs had erected by the 'khola' lost its room closest to the river with debris piled as high as the structure itself. the water simply poured down with an amazing, relentless power.
then, as i walked down to binod choudhary's a-frame home in the upper budhanilkantha village, i realized why steve and penny told me (when i called them a few minutes earlier to ask if they'd seen the destruction...) that they hadn't been able to make it up through the debris in the village. what had been the paved road through the village and behind tashi's to the ridge above where swami is planning to build some homes, was completely gone. nada. nothing. goneski.
where there were modest stretches of the road left, the water course was three feet below with the muddy river swirling in delight as if to say that it was never going to give up this newfound urgent path down the hill. ever. never. no.
as i approached, i saw that 20' of binod's large wall along the road was gone. stretches of his sharp-edged metal gilding on the top of his wall was a couple hundred feet further down the stream smashed and crumpled from the power of the water, boulders and debris. quite impressive, as long as it wasn't your wall and iron protective railing. nearby there were individual family water pipes twisted and turned into free-form pretzels with slews of electrical cable tossed amid the piles of wood and tree trunks that had come down in the landslide and torrent through the night.
groups of people were standing around in a daze just looking at the damage done. sadly, one 15 year old tamang girl up the hillside had died that night when her house collapsed and they couldn't get her to the hospital in time. fortunately few other homes had collapsed. although a few vehicles that were parked on the road had sunk in the muck and been smashed by debris and looked unlikely to start without a major overhaul -- if ever.
clearly, this local road isn't going to be repaired easily or only by the community themselves. today, the kind-hearted local guruji who lives on the main road with the peepul tree in his yard told me that they estimated that it would take 3 crore (30 million rupees/$500,000) to fix all of the damage. not exactly spare change for the folks up here.
fortunately, the torrent of water (think of the arno river behind the enigmatic smile of ms. mona lisa) turned back into the earlier main river bed just by the monastery and followed the curve of the land below an around lisa choegyal's home, thus avoiding any serious damage down our way. part of the river did go past the gompa (monastery) and then took a left and then a right straight up to gunnar's front gate, where a few feet of debris was piled -- but that was the only modest evidence of the serious damage done above in the village.
as we have said before: never under-estimate the power of the himalaya, particularly the monsoon waters that pour off these massive hills...
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Hans Castorp Returns to Kathmandu
Two days' travel separated the youth... from his own world, from all that he thought of his duties, interests, cares and prospects; far more than he had dreamed it would when he sat in the carriage on the way to the station. Space rolling and revolving between him and his native heath, possessed and wielded the powers we generally ascribe to time.
From hour to hour it worked changes in him, like to those wrought by time, yet in a way even more striking.
Space, like time, engenders forgetfulness; but it does so by setting us free from our bodily surroundings and giving us back our primitive, unattached state. Yes, it can even, in the twinkling of an eye, make something like a vagabond of the pedant and Philistine.
Time, we say, is Lethe; but change of air is a similar draught, and, if it works less thoroughly, does so more quickly.
'The Magic Mountain'
Thomas Mann
From hour to hour it worked changes in him, like to those wrought by time, yet in a way even more striking.
Space, like time, engenders forgetfulness; but it does so by setting us free from our bodily surroundings and giving us back our primitive, unattached state. Yes, it can even, in the twinkling of an eye, make something like a vagabond of the pedant and Philistine.
Time, we say, is Lethe; but change of air is a similar draught, and, if it works less thoroughly, does so more quickly.
'The Magic Mountain'
Thomas Mann
Thursday, September 11, 2008
New Beginnings...
"But there remains also the truth
that every end in history necessarily contains
a new beginning:
this beginning is the promise,
the only "message"
which the end can ever produce."
'Love and Saint Augustine'
By Hannah Arendt, Joanna Vecchiarelli Scott, Judith Chelius Stark
that every end in history necessarily contains
a new beginning:
this beginning is the promise,
the only "message"
which the end can ever produce."
'Love and Saint Augustine'
By Hannah Arendt, Joanna Vecchiarelli Scott, Judith Chelius Stark
A Peek at National Politics in America with 2 Months To Go...
Well, it seems that the Democrats, particularly Obama have a new challenge in responding to the kinetic appeal that Sarah Palin has unleashed in suburbs and small towns of America. There's no denying that Palin has electrified her base just as powerfully as Obama did for his in winning the Democratic primaries.
Unfortunately, the Democrats have a way of always winning the Democratic primaries (remarkable, no?), while losing the general elections to Republicans over the past four decades. Two Nixons, two Reagans and three Bushes should cause us to pause for a moment -- especially in a year when a race which should, for all the oft-stated reasons, belong to the Democrats.
Thus, we would be well-advised that it's self-defeating and poor politics to attack Palin personally, particularly about her family, when it can look like class warfare of the moralistic, secular, urban Democrats pitying the low culture, overly religious, lower middle class Americans.
Democrats don't win on class or country in US elections. Even if it's really not meant that way, especially not to our ears, a lot of Americans hear it that way and respond by voting against their economic interests at the national level.
Clinton won twice by undermining those antagonisms and positioning the Democrats, once again, as the party of the 'boy from Hope' heartland against the Republican privileged elite (e.g., George Sr. in Kennebunkport). Now, McCain has cleverly (if disingenuously) repositioned himself through Palin as the agent of outsider change. 'Mr & Mrs. Smith Go to Washington.' Smart move! Stealing lightening from the Democratic g-ds with two months to go on the racetrack.
Clearly, Palin's captured the imagination of conservative America, hearkening back (as Reagan used to in his speeches...) to a frontier society of rugged individuals.
However, I don't quite buy the commonly identified (and self-serving...) Light vs Darkness/Goodness vs Evil/Idealism vs Cynicism metaphor, where we (whoever we are) are always the 'good guys'. Often we Democrats are equally prone to self-righteousness in our political beliefs. Whereas the Buddhists have taught us the limits of duality -- even in the political realms. Not all of these issues (any issues...) are simple either-ors.
They don't call it the "Middle Way" for no reason...
Although I do believe that putting a woman on the ticket was a major undercurrent of the campaign this year. The resurgence of the feminine principle and mother goddess within America's shadow was exceptionally powerful for many this year.
'Anima rising' as Joni Mitchell has sang on her 1970s 'hissing of summer lawns' album...
No matter who wins, give McCain credit for plucking that wise and long overdue balanced Jungian insight from the slick alternative of Mitt Romney's preternaturally coiffured hair.
So, time again for Obama/Biden to remind the country that much of the Republican administration has been a 'bridge to nowhere' for the past eight years. Forget Sarah for now and get back to real worries of the American people.
Get off the less-than-subtle cultural divide and back to the pocketbook, the economy (bye-bye Lehman Brothers...), the mortgage crisis, the fuel crisis, quality education and a wiser response to the endless war against external terror.
When it's time to vote in November, those concerns will be uppermost in the minds of the skeptical, independent, working class voters who will decide the election
(and our near-term future...).
Unfortunately, the Democrats have a way of always winning the Democratic primaries (remarkable, no?), while losing the general elections to Republicans over the past four decades. Two Nixons, two Reagans and three Bushes should cause us to pause for a moment -- especially in a year when a race which should, for all the oft-stated reasons, belong to the Democrats.
Thus, we would be well-advised that it's self-defeating and poor politics to attack Palin personally, particularly about her family, when it can look like class warfare of the moralistic, secular, urban Democrats pitying the low culture, overly religious, lower middle class Americans.
Democrats don't win on class or country in US elections. Even if it's really not meant that way, especially not to our ears, a lot of Americans hear it that way and respond by voting against their economic interests at the national level.
Clinton won twice by undermining those antagonisms and positioning the Democrats, once again, as the party of the 'boy from Hope' heartland against the Republican privileged elite (e.g., George Sr. in Kennebunkport). Now, McCain has cleverly (if disingenuously) repositioned himself through Palin as the agent of outsider change. 'Mr & Mrs. Smith Go to Washington.' Smart move! Stealing lightening from the Democratic g-ds with two months to go on the racetrack.
Clearly, Palin's captured the imagination of conservative America, hearkening back (as Reagan used to in his speeches...) to a frontier society of rugged individuals.
However, I don't quite buy the commonly identified (and self-serving...) Light vs Darkness/Goodness vs Evil/Idealism vs Cynicism metaphor, where we (whoever we are) are always the 'good guys'. Often we Democrats are equally prone to self-righteousness in our political beliefs. Whereas the Buddhists have taught us the limits of duality -- even in the political realms. Not all of these issues (any issues...) are simple either-ors.
They don't call it the "Middle Way" for no reason...
Although I do believe that putting a woman on the ticket was a major undercurrent of the campaign this year. The resurgence of the feminine principle and mother goddess within America's shadow was exceptionally powerful for many this year.
'Anima rising' as Joni Mitchell has sang on her 1970s 'hissing of summer lawns' album...
No matter who wins, give McCain credit for plucking that wise and long overdue balanced Jungian insight from the slick alternative of Mitt Romney's preternaturally coiffured hair.
So, time again for Obama/Biden to remind the country that much of the Republican administration has been a 'bridge to nowhere' for the past eight years. Forget Sarah for now and get back to real worries of the American people.
Get off the less-than-subtle cultural divide and back to the pocketbook, the economy (bye-bye Lehman Brothers...), the mortgage crisis, the fuel crisis, quality education and a wiser response to the endless war against external terror.
When it's time to vote in November, those concerns will be uppermost in the minds of the skeptical, independent, working class voters who will decide the election
(and our near-term future...).
American the Beautiful (Friends)...
Oregon: Dave, Lisa, Lily & Iris Ellenberg; Alissa, Neal & Jordan Keny-Guyer;
California: Christopher, Mary & Nic Szecsey; Donna Sillan; Davis & Catherine Baltz; Greg, Chimi, Khenzom & Rinzi Allthon; Seth, Vicki, Ethan & Shari Kimball; Eduardo, Helena & Elliot Gutekunst; Charles & Pam Gay/Ross; Lance & Jared Dublin & Christine; Elliot Marseille; Steve Golub & Betty Lucas; Margie DeMonchy Leiper; Avery and Hank O'Neill
Maine: Mom & Dad; Alma, Jennings, Jay & Sabrina Boylan-Garnett; Jeff and Maggie Janer;
Massachusetts: Bruce, Buff, Brian, Liz & Monica Leslie; Jerry & Monique Sternin; Dave, Linda & Adam Danzig; Andrew, Dawn & two English Roses Wilder; Margaret Groesbeck & Arthur; Sheila Heffernon
California: Christopher, Mary & Nic Szecsey; Donna Sillan; Davis & Catherine Baltz; Greg, Chimi, Khenzom & Rinzi Allthon; Seth, Vicki, Ethan & Shari Kimball; Eduardo, Helena & Elliot Gutekunst; Charles & Pam Gay/Ross; Lance & Jared Dublin & Christine; Elliot Marseille; Steve Golub & Betty Lucas; Margie DeMonchy Leiper; Avery and Hank O'Neill
Maine: Mom & Dad; Alma, Jennings, Jay & Sabrina Boylan-Garnett; Jeff and Maggie Janer;
Massachusetts: Bruce, Buff, Brian, Liz & Monica Leslie; Jerry & Monique Sternin; Dave, Linda & Adam Danzig; Andrew, Dawn & two English Roses Wilder; Margaret Groesbeck & Arthur; Sheila Heffernon
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