Sunday Morning Coming Down

Sometimes the morning run is perfect.

I awoke early this morning, as I usually do. The dreams were not fitful but rich, not disturbing but revealing. As good dreams must be. I made coffee for myself, and while I read meaningfully, drank it joyfully. Then I dressed for the run.

The weather has changed dramatically these last two days. Which is to say that from sub-zero weather, the temperature has risen to thirty degrees. It feels like Spring, and younger people (alas, much younger people) don their shorts. We saw one man running in his tank top! But me, I put on my three magic fabric shirts, running tights, neck warmer, two pairs of gloves, a hat and a wind breaker, also of magic fabric. And my iPod.

Of course, the air was magnificent, which is to say, not freezing. And the sound track I had prepared was perfect. I ran strong, and whatever occurred in the night in my dreams, spurred me on in my run and my thoughts. And in the background McMurtry, “On the Outskirts,” and Dylan, “Wherever the children go, I’ll follow them,” and the Grateful Dead, “The grass ain’t greener, the wine ain’t sweeter, either side of the hill.” Today was one of those days when, as Gary would say, “I think I could run a marathon.” I felt very strong, though not that strong.

No mind: sometimes a good morning run ensures the day.

Primary Running Colors

Tonight I will listen to the primary returns from Wisconsin. I live and vote in Wisconsin. I voted in the primary election early this morning. It was very, very cold. I worry about the continuing cold in the political climate of the United States.

I have been voting since 1968. That year I voted for Hubert Humphrey. He did not win. In 1972, I voted for George McGovern. He did not win. I think that year I also voted for Charles Goodell for Senator of New York. He lost to James Buckley. In 1976, I finally elected someone, albeit, it was, alas, Jimmy Carter. Twice, I voted for Bill Clinton. I cried when Paul Wellstone perished in a plane crash, and suspected the Republicans. I cried when Minnesota elected Norm Coleman who stands for nothing but Norm Coleman over Walter Mondale. I could not comprehend that a state that was poised to vote for Wellstone would opt for Coleman. In forty years of voting, I can account for 12 years, and the rest is nightmare. These past eight years, especially, have been particularly difficult, as I live under a haughty, self-serving and horrifyingly stupid regime. I mean, we have a President who advertises his ‘Cs’ in school, a Vice President who shoots before he speaks, and a Supreme Court which reminds me of nothing less than a Star Chamber. I know, I know, I exaggerate, but not a great deal. I can think of few people I know who are more safe, more financially comfortable, more secure in their futures as a result of the work of the Bush administration. On the contrary, everyone that I know suffers more now than when they took over. I am reading Reading Lolita in Teheran, and I am appalled how the fear and horror of the Ayatollah and his repressive regime parallels my own fears and horrors under the Bush administration.

I don’t know how I can tolerate another Republican victory. It is not just a matter of Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee; I think this is a matter of life and death. I have two children. The Republicans offer only destruction and death.

I heard those idiots debating in Minnesota. Everything about them denies everything I hold dear.

2 February Cold Thoughts

Sometimes I wonder myself where I have been of late. My last posting seems a long time since, but actually is only two weeks past. Nevertheless, I can’t quite answer where it is I have been of late. Oh, certainly I have been in my home, in classrooms, even steadily with my on-line classes. I have been preparing a talk to be given at University North Caroline-Chapel Hill, and re-sending a book proposal the publisher. I’ve been reading teacher autobiographies. This is not a practice out of context: I teach autobiography as a teacher-education pedagogy, and so I assign autobiographies to read and offer strategies for reading them. Of late, I am interested in how teachers tell their story, and especially how they explain becoming a teacher.

I’ve been following the election carefully. Though I have great affection for Hillary, I think I have to vote for Barrack. And here is why: on the radio this week I heard the Republicans debating on Minnesota Public Radio. A question was posed to them concerning the Supreme Court, and both McCain and Romney said that they would appoint justices in the mold of Roberts, Alito, Scalia and Thomas. I became sick to my stomach.

I have to vote for Barrack, because I don’t think Hillary can win because the country is more misogynist than racist, and she is the focus for their hatreds. And I am terrified that the Republicans might win the election this November, and I don’t think I could stand that. It would be very bad for me, and a tragedy for my children. I would vote for the devil if s/he ran on the Democratic ticket. Without qualification.

So perhaps I know where I have been, but I haven’t really wanted to be found.

Nevertheless, we have another passenger for Shabbat mornings; it is my honor and my responsibility.