Today I went to hear Erwin Chemerinsky speak at the synagogue. He is a famous lawyer on matters related to the Constitution and is the Dean of the law school at U.C. Irvine.
He is a brilliant speaker and I'm sure teacher as well, so it is a pleasure to listen to him at any time, but today, what he had to say was very compelling on its own terms. His subject was the current Supreme Court, which he dubbed as "easily the most conservative court since the 30s." He qualified that statement by examining some important cases of the last few years, and analyzed how the outcome came to be what it was.
Like the U.S. as a whole, the Supreme Court is split between liberals and conservatives, with only Anthony Kennedy as buffer zone between the two. He generally goes with the majority in the case of 5/4 splits, Chemerinsky told us, but that means that he most often sides with the conservatives.
On the basis of this analysis, he made some projections of how the upcoming cases might be settled, but seemed not to be able to make such a call in the case of the Affordable Care Act. He did say that he was quite sure that if they overruled the mandatory coverage element of the law, the statute against pre-existing conditions would also fall. And he was quite sure it would be, as everything else is right now in this country, a matter of polarized ideologies. Sigh...
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Sunday, May 27, 2012
Back to the Trail
This morning I did a short hike with my friend, Judy, from the choir. It was too far for me to drive, at Oak Canyon at Caspers Park, and we had to take a rather hairy rural highway to get there. But it was worth it.
There were still many flowers blooming out there--mariposa lilies and cactus flowers in all colors, devil's paintbrush and Jimson weed, assorted and (to me) nameless blooms of all sizes and shades.
We didn't see any wildlife, and for this I am actually grateful, since this is rattlesnake season, and there are several species of the beasts in those hills.
My hip has been troubling me, so I was a bit concerned about how I would fare on the hike, but it was only 4 miles or so, and the only part that really challenged me was the first bit, a big long hill that left me and most of the others panting.
Tomorrow I am scheduled to go on another hike, again with Judy, and have to leave very early in the morning because it's a long drive, at least 1 1/2 hours. That's quite a bit longer and more challenging, but this hike leader has ankle problems and goes very slowly, which is good for me, especially now with my hip acting up.
I enjoyed the hike, and hope it goes well tomorrow and that I'm not being unrealistic about what I can manage. I think I'll skip yoga class today though, and not push my luck.
There were still many flowers blooming out there--mariposa lilies and cactus flowers in all colors, devil's paintbrush and Jimson weed, assorted and (to me) nameless blooms of all sizes and shades.
We didn't see any wildlife, and for this I am actually grateful, since this is rattlesnake season, and there are several species of the beasts in those hills.
My hip has been troubling me, so I was a bit concerned about how I would fare on the hike, but it was only 4 miles or so, and the only part that really challenged me was the first bit, a big long hill that left me and most of the others panting.
Tomorrow I am scheduled to go on another hike, again with Judy, and have to leave very early in the morning because it's a long drive, at least 1 1/2 hours. That's quite a bit longer and more challenging, but this hike leader has ankle problems and goes very slowly, which is good for me, especially now with my hip acting up.
I enjoyed the hike, and hope it goes well tomorrow and that I'm not being unrealistic about what I can manage. I think I'll skip yoga class today though, and not push my luck.
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Dreaming Again
Supposedly, we all dream every night, though we may not remember it. Dreams last only a few moment of intense REM sleep, though they may feel as though they have gone on for hours.
I had one of those dreams last night, in which I was visiting a campus in some other state, something like a cross between Florida and Indiana... bizarre hybrid! I had with me my son, who was about 11 or 12 and my mother, who did not have dementia in the dream though she did in real life, but had a broken hip and difficulty walking (she never had a broken hip though, that I recall, in real life).
I was in the bookstore buying something, and the cashier told me to take care of my son. I looked around, and he was gone. I didn't seem too worried about it though.
I ran into my mother, having a snack at the cafeteria outside, and I just left her there, went out and got on a bus, though my car was parked somewhere. A block later I realized I had left my son and mother behind, and jumped off the bus, but found I was in a completely unfamiliar part of the campus. I started going into all the buildings, but never found the ones I had been in before, where my son and mother might be. One building was the gym. It was particularly strange. To get into it, one had to climb a wooden staircase that moved and swung loose in the air as one climbed. It was frightening, and I didn't make it more than two steps before I jumped off. I knew that wasn't the right building anyway.
One place that looked like an underground garage was actually a florist's shop, where, in the half-darkness, thousands of flowers glowed. I never did find either my mother or my son.
I had one of those dreams last night, in which I was visiting a campus in some other state, something like a cross between Florida and Indiana... bizarre hybrid! I had with me my son, who was about 11 or 12 and my mother, who did not have dementia in the dream though she did in real life, but had a broken hip and difficulty walking (she never had a broken hip though, that I recall, in real life).
I was in the bookstore buying something, and the cashier told me to take care of my son. I looked around, and he was gone. I didn't seem too worried about it though.
I ran into my mother, having a snack at the cafeteria outside, and I just left her there, went out and got on a bus, though my car was parked somewhere. A block later I realized I had left my son and mother behind, and jumped off the bus, but found I was in a completely unfamiliar part of the campus. I started going into all the buildings, but never found the ones I had been in before, where my son and mother might be. One building was the gym. It was particularly strange. To get into it, one had to climb a wooden staircase that moved and swung loose in the air as one climbed. It was frightening, and I didn't make it more than two steps before I jumped off. I knew that wasn't the right building anyway.
One place that looked like an underground garage was actually a florist's shop, where, in the half-darkness, thousands of flowers glowed. I never did find either my mother or my son.
Sunday, May 20, 2012
New Profile on Boston Literary Journal
Writer and editor Robin Stratton has published an interview with me about Balance on her magazine, Boston Literary Journal's site. You can find it here:http://bostonliterarymagazine.com/sum12interview.html
Visit and see!
Visit and see!
Saturday, May 19, 2012
A Voice is Missing
Last night, the choir sang at services. There were not many present. The evening was billed as a
Town Meeting on Israel." Apparently, people are feeling rather queasy about that subject right now. Of course, I have long felt that way. Although I was almost born in Israel, and my parents met and married there right before the original War of Independence, I always knew that the land people regarded as uninhabited was far from being so at that time.
Be that as it may, the set went well. These were two old favorites, songs I have been singing with the choir for many years. But something sounded different... David was missing in the bass section.
We have long known that David has Alzheimer. It was hard to miss, even though he would always remember there was a performance, arriving attired immaculately in suit and tie, no hair out of place. For too long, he even drove himself, though he could barely remember his own name. And he never forgot a word of the music we sang either. But his kind elbowing was beginning to transform into something else. The disease was changing him, and his wife, at age 90, could no longer manage a man who was still physically quite strong, though mentally reduced.
Now he has moved into an assisted living place for people with Alzheimer and dementia. We hear he is adjusting fine, but we can't visit him just yet, not for a while.
I know the choir will never sound quite the same to me without his cheerful, sweet voice.
Town Meeting on Israel." Apparently, people are feeling rather queasy about that subject right now. Of course, I have long felt that way. Although I was almost born in Israel, and my parents met and married there right before the original War of Independence, I always knew that the land people regarded as uninhabited was far from being so at that time.
Be that as it may, the set went well. These were two old favorites, songs I have been singing with the choir for many years. But something sounded different... David was missing in the bass section.
We have long known that David has Alzheimer. It was hard to miss, even though he would always remember there was a performance, arriving attired immaculately in suit and tie, no hair out of place. For too long, he even drove himself, though he could barely remember his own name. And he never forgot a word of the music we sang either. But his kind elbowing was beginning to transform into something else. The disease was changing him, and his wife, at age 90, could no longer manage a man who was still physically quite strong, though mentally reduced.
Now he has moved into an assisted living place for people with Alzheimer and dementia. We hear he is adjusting fine, but we can't visit him just yet, not for a while.
I know the choir will never sound quite the same to me without his cheerful, sweet voice.
Friday, May 18, 2012
No Numbers
I just don't think in numbers. I cannot remember them, even getting my address wrong at times and forgetting my phone number at inopportune times. Now I have done it again. I've been touting my poems in Balance as having 15 lines (15 poems of 15 lines each). While that sounds good, the poems are only 14 lines each (sonnets, if line numbers make them that). I counted them, as I was being interviewed and one of the questions was about the number 15. Good thing I counted them! It made me realize that it has been 4 years since I've written those poems, though the book was published only this past February. Amazing! So much has changed.
I am trying to figure out now how to get to Riverside, where I have been invited to read. The train goes there, but only in the evening. It means I'd have to stay the whole weekend! What are these schedulers thinking?
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
What would I say to 16 year old me?
Stop trying so hard, and calmly go on with being yourself. You're in the wrong place at the wrong time, but soon, in a few years, you'll stumble into a place where you belong and are happy. You'll meet people you want to know for the rest of your life and leave behind the misery of living in a place where you have to keep the curtains closed tight even on the steamiest days of summer, sans air conditioning. Where people jeer at you because they always have, reflexively, in a way that has nothing to do with you.
You exist only when you read, the grey Kansas of your life becoming technicolor when you open the pages of Bishop and Keats and Tolstoy. When you enter the branch library across the street from your house, someone, the librarian, Phyllis, is glad to see you. This is your true home.
You are embarrassed by a body that is too mature for your mind, one the boys in your class furtively ogle, and the girls ridicule. How to hide it in a time where skirts skim the tops of your thighs? Your hair flies everywhere, unruly, in curls that never go in the direction you'd like.
You fancy yourself a radical, get yourself nearly killed by going places you know you don't belong, riding a subway deep into neighborhoods where taxi drivers won't go, even in the daytime, 4'8" you.
You join the S.D.S., and find that the others in the group are silly and worse, insisting that Manson is "cute," having little understanding of the consequences of their actions.
You are a writer who hasn't yet learned the skills you need to know, but you will. Be patient. Keep being who you are. The world is bigger than you know.
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