It has actually been 203 days, but I was so busy I didn't get to this post AND when you are retired days just don't count like they used to. I've been ruminating over a number of topics recently. So I suppose this is as good a time as any to disclose my ruminations
Health Care. How is it that we live in such a rich country, yet a friend's adult son is suffering with what may be terminal cancer and is without health insurance because he changed jobs? Might he have been saved if he had not waited until his new insurance kicked in? Would his children and wife at least not be left penniless?
War. How is it that we can go to war over un-found weapons of mass destruction, kill and maim thousands of American young people, yet all our leaders can do is argue over "Obamacare" and taxes on billionaires?
Concert Tickets. Why can't the average person (me) buy tickets to a concert at the published rate? With all of these safeguards - you know what I mean -- the symbols you've got to type in to prove you are a person, how do these ticket sellers get ALL of the good seats withing 26 minutes of them going on sale?
Sequestration. How much money and productivity have already been lost trying to prepare for sequestration? How much money and productivity of the federal workforce has been lost trying to address the dysfunction of Congress?
Home Repair Projects. When will I ever learn to multiply by at least FIVE when estimating how long it takes to make home repairs? How can a small 6 feet by three feet powder room take two weeks to repair walls and paint?
How is it that I have been so fortunate in my life to have the time for these ruminations, the money to buy concert tickets, health insurance and a home to repair. Retirement is great.
If they don't start treating you better, old work friends, run the numbers. I'll bet you can join me. Come on in, the water is great!
I must be the only resident of the state of Virginia who does not know that my car registration includes my address AND where I "garage" my car. Funny. I thought I "garaged" it in my garage at my present address.
However, Arlington County just informed me via a $50.00 ticket that I actually garage my car in Alexandria City and must have an Alexandria City decal on it. After what seems like an entire day trying to figure out why I got the ticket, I've been directed to my car registration where it has my legal residence and then below it has the word Alexandria City. Now please note, just the words Alexandria City are there, isolated, with nothing to explain what that means. So for those few of you who are as ignorant as I, that means that my almost new convertible is parked in Alexandria City not in my garage as I thought it has been for the past 19 months.
I am in the process now of trying to get someone from the Virginia DMV on the phone to correct my registration so that it reflects that my car is garaged in my garage, which is in Fairfax County, which does not require decals, so that I can send this to Arlington County so that they do not charge me $50.00, which I assume they were going to send to Alexandria City after they collected it (wink wink), because I did not have an Alexandria City decal. Is that clear?
Now the reason it took me almost half the day to figure out this problem was that a few years ago Arlington County also gave me a ticket for not having an Arlington County decal. I made the mistake of actually parking on an Arlington County street, paying for the parking and eating at an Arlington County establishment. As I don't live in Arlington County, but about a half block from there in Fairfax County, I was able to forgo the payment after almost a full day of phone calls, internet searches and the like.
I'm starting to wonder if Arlington County wishes to discourage immigration to its county. Does the county wish that I no longer frequent its restaurants, gyms, bars, and the like? How am I, a law-abiding Fairfax County resident, to avoid getting a ticket every time I park in front of Friend's house, or visit Motorbike? I'm beginning to feel that I need to carry my papers with me to prove I am a citizen of Fairfax County. Just like in the movies in foreign countries where the police are always asking for your papers and you are feeling intimidated. Ominous.
I will get my car registration corrected today, I hope. I will carry it with me and will be aware of what is printed on it and what it means when I venture out of the warmth of Fairfax County to foreign locations such as Columbia Pike, Rosslyn, the Courthouse Theater and the like.
I may suggest to my own county that they provide us with decals again that at least say to the Arlington County parking police that I don't need a decal and to leave me alone. Any suggestions?
On August 9, 1974 I was living in Galveston, Texas. I had just turned 24 and was in the beginning months of a year long fellowship at the University of Texas Medical School-Galveston. I will never forget that day. The night before Richard Nixon had resigned as the President of the United States. As was my usual custom on Sunday, I called home to speak to my family. Daddy answered the phone; Mom was not there. So we talked more than we normally did because usually it was Mom who did most of the talking. It was a strange and powerful (for me) conversation. Dad seemed agitated and very concerned about the state of our country. He told me that he never thought he would see our country in such a state. Then he said, "I'd give anything to talk to my mom for just five minutes..." and started crying. I am feeling that way right now, only I don't know to whom to talk. Let me explain.
Earlier this week, Friend shared with me a video, Wealth Inequality in America, which reinforced my long held beliefs that the huge chasm between those who have and those who have not is getting even bigger. The film based on the work of a Harvard economist revealed that not only are the rich getting richer, but the poor are becoming all but invisible. How can we have become the land where the
- CEO makes 380 times as much as his/her average worker?
- average worker earns for one month what the CEO earns in one hour?
- top 1% earn 24% of the nation's income, but the bottom 50% earn .5%?
- top 1% of the country owns 40% of the country's wealth, and the bottom 80% own 7% (that's not a misprint - I mean 7% not 70%) of the wealth?
The video graphically illustrates what 92% of Americans think would be the ideal distribution:
Then a picture of what it really is: NOTE - The top 1% would not fit on the slide. In order to show it, the narrator had to cut off what would not fit on the slide and place it beside the right column - it added TEN COLUMNS of wealth to that 1%.
So what has taken me from angry to sad today? a documentary on hunger in the United States - A Place at the Table. In it we learn about food policy in the U.S., where the largest agricultural subsidies go to the giant industrial farms that grow corn, wheat, soy, and grains that feed the processed food industry. These are the industrial giants who spend disgraceful amounts of money to lobby congress to maintain these handouts (only second to the oil companies in spending). In the past thirty years as the price of fresh vegetables and fruits has skyrocketed, the price of junk food (the outcomes of the subsidies) has fallen dramatically. So we have an obese population who are hungry because they cannot afford a decent diet.
The latest edition of UNICEF's report on child poverty in developed countries found that 30 million children in 35 of the world's richest countries live in poverty. Among those countries, the United States ranks second on the scale of what economists call "relative child poverty" -- above Latvia, Bulgaria, Spain, Greece, and 29 others. Only Romania ranks higher, with 25.5 percent of its children living in poverty, compared with 23.1 percent in the U.S.
It is not that we don't have the food, we have millions of people who don't make enough money to purchase the food. How are these children ever to climb out of poverty when their families cannot make a decent wage?
So, who can I call for just five minutes that will take this utter sadness away? Volunteering at Martha's Table isn't really enough.
As the Latin Lover drove us to Philadelphia Sunday, I read my Washington Post. As I was just about to finish it, I realized that Parade Magazine was still in my bag. Yay. More still to read! Then I happened upon this article --- The Girls (Parade Magazine, March 2, 2013). The author describes a group of friends of her mother who called themselves The Girls. These twelve women met every Friday night for poker. As the girls started meeting, it was in the late 50s and they had very traditional lives as wives and mothers. But this did not stop them from bonding over their poker games, or from their support in many ways of their friends in the group. Over the intervening years all of them have passed on except the author's mother.
The story sparked something in me because I have always had a group of women in my life and they have been important to me. For almost twenty years I've been fortunate to have my girls here in town. We call ourselves The Girls, too.
These are my gym buddy, my orchid-growing rivals, my go to the movies friend, my make me feel good friend. These are four women I've known for many years. These are the family that you were not born into, but into which you were lucky enough to fall. These are the friends who celebrate your achievements and offer a shoulder to cry on when things are not going so well. These are the sisters who have been through the aging of parents, the hard decisions times. None of us is like the other but somehow we are as close as any one could be. I am lucky also with an extended "girls" group who live in Florida, Louisiana, Indiana, New York and Texas. While they are not here to get into trouble with the rest of us, I know they would come here at the drop of a hat, if they were needed.
I can't help but think about how I will feel when one by one they start passing away ([notice I think I won't be the first]. We celebrate Christmas dinner every year at my house with the Silver Tongued Latin Lover (my husband), two very good friends, Peggy and Dick. All of the girls say that this night IS our Christmas. We also joke that someone has to die in order for anyone else to be invited (I've only got eight seats at the table). How will I handle that day, I wonder?
Retirement is a great time, but it would not be nearly as wonderful without the support group I call the girls. Keep your friends close, my friends.
