Since Ozarkyn has been MIA for over a week, I thought I'd drop in and make a rare post.

Yesterday, I was listening to Thomas Tallis' Ave Maria, which I sang in college with the Madrigal group, and I was reminded how powerfully the final words hit me then: O Mater mei, memento mei, Amen. ("Oh my mother, remember me, Amen.")

To bring that sentiment to a more tangible level, I remember a story told to me by a Vietnam vet friend of mine when I was growing up. He was a medic, and told how he was doing an air lift with a wounded soldier. As they were rising in the helicopter, they were shot at with a torrent of gunfire, and the wounded officer was hit again, this time fatally. As he died, he cried, "Remember me!"

The vet did remember. And probably will, to his grave. Memento Mei.

I pray for the vets that are experiencing stories just like this one, right now. You'd think we would learn.

I understand the reasoning behind invading Iraq, these long years ago. I didn't agree with them and still don't, but what's done is done, and arguing about what was already done is a pointless exercise. But it's time to go. I don't want to see another war memorial in Washington. I don't want to hear any more horror stories of children being killed and mothers weeping over lost sons and daughters.

In somewhat related news, I was reading the SF Chronicle on Saturday. These two pages were facing each other on the spread of the newspaper. I don't know if it was done intentionally, but it certainly caught my eye.

On page A8 was this article about Santas. Photos of malls, kids sitting on Santa's lap. A fussy kid, terrified of this stranger with a white beard.

On Page A9, was this article. Violence and gunfire between Hamas and Fatah movements in Ramallah. Terrified children. Look at the photos, especially this one. Children weeping for a different reason.

We are so lucky, that all our children worry about are what they are getting for Christmas. Where my biggest worry of the day is whether we'll have enough time to decorate the cookies I made last night AND to decorate the tree. And whether the presents I ordered online will arrive on time. And how I can resist overeating this holiday. These worries are small potatoes.

I'm not sure how to end this post, other than to wish and hope and pray for peace. An end to fear and terror. A taste of what bliss feels like. A calm to overtake the hatred. To pray for joy to touch the souls of those who haven't seen joy in a long, long time.

Meera, the Proper Voice of Liberalism...

I've been thinking about things that I could write about that I know would get in Oz's grille. I could write poetry here, or analyze a sypmphony, or rave about the most recent opera I have seen, but that would just annoy him. I'm not here to deliberately bait him. And we're not really all that far apart on most issues that are important. I like to think that we're both intelligent people, and when people think about the issues---really think about them---they're bound to come to reasonable conclusions.

But I read this morning about the gas prices that are due to rise at least $.05 in the next week, I can't help but wonder about the people who will suffer most from it.

It surely won't be me. I'll roll my eyes as I fill the gas tank and cringe when I get the bill, I'll watch the tank full indicator creep down as I drive my daily 100, I'll complain more about the commute. But I can handle it. (My friends who have to listen to me bellyache might not appreciate it, though!) It won't be Ozarkyn, even though it will cost $75 (more? I don't know) to fill a tank of gas on his very necessary behemoth of a truck. But he won't lose his house over it. Sleep he might lose, maybe, but he won't have to file bankruptcy.

Now don't get me wrong, I think this country has lived far too long on cheap gasoline. I am utterly thrilled that this recent gas spike has multiplied the interest in low gas mileage cars. I love that every third car I see in Silicon Valley is Prius or a Hybrid Civic. I am tickled pink that when I read that a new Corvette will be announced this year, one of the selling points is great gas mileage. Someday, I am sure, the combustion engine that runs on carbon-based fuel will become a relic, like leaded gasoline. People will be able to have their power trucks and fill them with deionized water and be able to leap tall mountains in a single tank. We will get there, no question. We have to. Oil won't last forever.

And I wonder how long it will take for these new technologies to come. We're beginning. But how long will it take for the lowest income bracket to get their hands on these vehicles? The price of gas is only going up. How long does it take for a new technology to become old, old enough for everyone to have access to it?

I worry for the single mother with a 1985 Accord and can't afford to fill the tank to [get to the job interview, get to work, take her child to daycare, insert any daily necessity here]. I worry for the independent trucking company that has to shut down due to gas prices. I worry for the most vulnerable. Public transportation is an answer, but it's not THE answer---not until developing a reliable public transportation system becomes a priority for every city. But that's a subject for another rant.

What can be done? Do I dare suggest that developing a food stamp kind of system for gasoline might be something to consider? This would mean an increase in the social services budget. And it might mean a (relatively small! especially when comparing it with the, say, military budget) increase in taxes. And in the grand scheme of things, it's very small. Social services really get the short end of the stick these days.

Now, when it comes to things like the food stamp program and the welfare program, I'm glad they're there. Perhaps it isn't run as well or as efficiently as it could be, but I'd rather it be there than not. It's a security net. I'd rather have people be tangled up in the net than be a stain on the sawdust floor. They can climb out, and the system is designed for just that. (It's when people don't even try to stay on the tightrope and dive right into the net that I get irritated. But again, that's a subject for another rant.) Sure, a "gas stamp" kind of system runs the risk of becoming similar to welfare, but isn't it better to have it and keep the shipping company in business? Isn't it better to keep that working mother earning a living than to have her tumble from the tightrope and onto the floor?

It's something to consider.


Meera, the Proper Voice of Liberalism...

Yep, I'm a displaced Yankee (well, sort of--we moved a lot) and a progressive liberal Democrat.

After a back-and-forth with Ozarkyn about being from other planets, David invited me to join him on his blog to give the other point of view about some topics that may or may not be presented in a one-sided way. Perhaps some well-meaning banter might ensue. And maybe, maybe, some minds might be changed. I won't specify who.

But to introduce myself, I was born in the Midwest, moved about every three years when I was growing up, hitting Illinois, Northern California, Delaware, North Carolina, Virginia, Philadelphia, Indiana (where I went to a small LIBERAL arts college and majored in music), and through a series of normal life events, ended up living about three miles from Our Fair Blog Host and work as a tech writer in San Jose. I’m married to another very intelligent liberal, and we have two boys, one of whom is a classmate of Annie’s; the other is rapidly following in his big brother’s footsteps. Amazing kids. It's the most challenging job of my life: raising them to be healthy, well-rounded, and thoughtful individuals who can forge their own paths through the wilderness. We all need all the help we can get.

It does take a village to raise a child, after all.


Meera, the Proper Voice of Liberalism...