Letter Writing Campaign

I had a goal in high school to get into as many yearbook photos as possible. Being editor of the yearbook my senior year helped, but so did joining a boatload of school organizations. I had a bunch of friends in Amnesty International, so I thought, "I can go to a lunch meeting once a month to protest against torturing people. I mean, that's bad stuff."

One week, we started writing letters in protest of the death penalty. I pulled our advisor aside and told him I thought I'd have to drop out of the group. I believed in the death penalty. I believed that if you killed someone, your death was a logical punishment. An eye for an eye type of thing. Fortunately, the AI advisor said I could stay in the group and focus my efforts on another letter writing campaign. If you look at the 1995 Manual HS yearbook, I'm totally in the Amnesty International group photo, probably rockin' my favorite red & blue rugby shirt and some sweet ripped jeans (ah, grunge).

Fast forward 6 years after high school graduation...

I got a phone call from Jon's mom. Jon was a childhood friend that I hadn't seen in about a year. I knew it had to be bad news because why else would Jon's mom be calling me? I thought maybe someone's dad had a heart attack. 

It turned out that our dear friend, Roberta, had been brutally, brutally murdered out in LA. Her body had been found in a park by some joggers and the killer was still on the run. The police had an ATM photo of the killer from the night before when he'd forced Roberta to withdraw money from her bank account. They knew who he was, they just didn't know where he was.

It took about three days for the killer to turn himself in - he had taken Roberta's car and driven all the way to Michigan. During those three days, I thought a lot about this guy. Was he mentally stable? What happened to him that he could be capable of the horrible things he'd done? What made him so powerless in life that he felt the need to violently dominate another person? 

Faced with the stark black and white reality of Roberta's murder, my stance on the death penalty was all of a sudden very gray. I'd think about what Roberta's last moments alive must have been like and that this guy was responsible for those last minutes consisting of fear and pain. I wanted him to feel those same things. To feel what it was like to know someone else held power over whether he lived. And yet if this guy was executed, it wouldn't bring Roberta back. It wouldn't make me feel any better.

The crime qualified for the death penalty - kidnapping, robbery, rape and murder. The trial was relatively quick. With DNA and photographic evidence and the car, there wasn't really too much to defend. The killer got life in prison, and the relief I felt at his sentence was surprising. The death toll ended there. One life was gone, but another life still held hope for something good to somehow come of it. 

This year, the Colorado legislature has been considering a bill that would take away funding for the death penalty and instead put the money toward solving cold cases. In effect, this would take away the death penalty from Colorado courts without jumping through the hurdles of declaring it unconstitutional. It looks like opponents of the bill will defeat this legislation by providing alternate funding for cold cases. 

If the bill does face defeat, I think I can pick up where my teenage self left off and start up that letter writing campaign.

Curve Ball

I thought I'd write something today insightful today about the Obama inauguration and how happy I am. But people that are much smarter than I am have got that one covered. So then I thought I'd write about my cat cheating on his girlfriend (the story involves multiple cashmere sweaters and should have a soundtrack straight outta the '70s and maybe a pornstache on the cat). Or maybe I'd write about the freakin' snow pile still on the North side of our block despite almost 70 degree weather. But sometimes, life throws you a curve ball. 

I found out today that a guy I grew up with died in a plane crash last week just outside Wray, CO. He was deadheading on the flight so the FAA records initially only showed the pilot & copilot.  But it was confirmed this weekend that Zach was on the flight too and died in the crash.

I have such a jumble of memories of Zach - mostly from elementary school when I was crazy about him. I remember playing blocks in first grade when he told me he had a girlfriend. 

"Oh, yeah, who is your girlfriend?" I asked, trying to be cool and hide my massive disappointment.

"It's you." Zach said. 

 

A little presumptive, but whatever. I was all about being his girlfriend.  Which mostly meant that I let him catch me when it was boys chase girls on the playground and vice versa. But apparently that was serious enough for 6-year olds because our teacher, Ms. Furnace, introduced our parents to each other as the in-laws at Parent / Teacher conference night. Which, I mean, was inevitable since we were going to get married after high school. Zach was going to play for the Broncos and I was going to be a yuppy lawyer. I really wanted to be a yuppy. 

I remember him dressing as an Ewok for Halloween, a whole bunch of us trying to break dance at Christine's birthday party (a massive fail on my part), school plays, and just a lot of silliness (all set to a soundtrack of Michael Jackson back before he was a giant weirdo). By the time Zach and I were in high school we hung out with different crowds. But we still had a good giggle at high school graduation about our former plans to get married (at 6, high school seemed plenty old enough for marriage).

And really, I haven't seen Zach in a long, long time. Maybe 7 years. I didn't even recognize him in the news footage. But the 6-year old in me feels like I've lost my first boyfriend.

Zach was a good guy and my heart hurts for his family.

17 Days and Counting

I bought some "airport trash" to read on my plane flight out to Seattle over Christmas. Yes, we finally made it to see Will's family - and there's photographic evidence here.

In my airport trash, there was an interview with the Bush family reflecting on leaving the White House. I have to admit that I've always kinda liked Laura, Jenna and Barbara. I could separate them from the idiot male Bush family member. Plus, a lot of my friends have commented that my mom looks like Laura Bush - and I have a very soft spot in my heart for my own mom.

They talked about showing the Obamas around the White House - and showing Malia & Sasha all the fun hide-and-go-seek spots. But then Barbara made a comment about how she was really excited for her parents to move back to Texas where her dad would be respected again and treated more fairly.  And that comment just made me bristle.

The dude at one point had the highest popularity rating for any president - and he's plummeted to the one of the lowest ratings ever. That's his own fault. And I just hope history judges him harshly for not only his complete and utter lack of leadership for the American people, but also for his incredible inability to take responsibility for his failures. I'd respect the guy a whole lot more if he could go into an interview and identify one thing, just one thing, that he would have done differently in his 8 years as president. Jeebus, I can think of one thing I'd have done differently already today (um, I ate a chocolate bon bon for breakfast, and I'd change that to something healthier).

So sorry, Barbara, that we're so harsh on your dad. It must be hard to love somebody so much and have so much criticism heaped on your loved one. But he volunteered for the job, twice. And he did a really bad job with it. And a lot of people are suffering because of that. 

Also? I'm excited for a president that can talk Engrish better with, you know, complete sentences and stuff.

Hope, Yet H8te

I've just let out a big exhale for a breath I didn't know I've been holding for the past 8 years. As I watched Obama's acceptance speech last night with tears in my eyes I thought, "I finally matter again."

Not that the past 8 years have been completely miserable. I met and married the love of my life. I watched friends and relatives have babies, believing that the future held more than the present. I made strides in my career. I made new friends and kept the old. I learned something new each and every day for the last 2,920 days.

But the hardest days have also happened in the last 8 years. I functioned day-to-day through a debilitating painful disease. I've watched as my investment in my future - taking the leftover money from college to buy a house - has dwindled to "dear God please let me just break even" after living here 7 years. I watched my Dad, who was a rock, suffer through depression on a level I'd never seen before, and hope to never see again. I watched my Mom write a letter to the president explaining how painful my dad's illness was to our family, asking him to help pass legislation to take better care of vets. Only to get a form letter back that didn't address any of her concerns. I watched a war start that hasn't ended. I watched problems emerge, only to have the government say that shopping was the solution. I watched the rich grow richer, even as I came to the realization that I will not be the millionaire I thought I would when I was little. I've pondered whether or not I'll be able to give my (future) child(ren) the life my parents gave me, and pretty much have come to the conclusion that it will be radically different. I've lost my pride in being an American because we had truly become the "ugly" part of our reputation.

And yet last night, I felt proud again to be an American. I felt like the small guy mattered. I felt like my $50 donation to the campaign was as appreciated as any big-wig corporate money-tree. I felt like we could be world leaders again - in science, the arts, in human rights, in being creative and solving problems. I felt like Obama is asking us all to be part of making this country right again - and hell yeah, I'll sacrifice to make this world a better place.  

I was actually registered as a Republican for a long time. I grew up wanting to marry Alex P Keaton and be a yuppy lawyer. I believed, and still do, very strongly in states rights and fiscal responsibility. But I also believe that the measure of a good community, state and nation is how we treat the least among us. That we protect and take care of those that can't take care of themselves. That we educate children. That we care for the sick. That plants and animals count in our equations of wealth. That we don't cause our own extinction. And so, I'm now registered as a Democrat. Don't let me down, okay Democrats?

And yet, in the midst of all this hope, eyes welling with tears among my renewed pride, I'm devastated by the passing of Proposition 8 in California. This is one of the final frontiers of discrimination in this country and I can't be okay with 51% of folks saying that gay marriage is illegal.

I love too many people in this world who are gay. Back when I was single, I analyzed a lot of the relationships around me. And it was a relationship between two men that made me think, "That's the kind of relationship I want." They both have AIDS, and wake up every day committed to caring for each other. And they both believe that if they can love and support each other, then they make the world a better place by drawing on that foundation to care and love for those around them. That's the kind of commitment that the government should recognize.

The folks that wrote and passed this law are acting like us straighties have the marriage thing nailed down. That we treat marriage as sacred and that we never screw it up. But 50% of marriages are projected to end in divorce - so clearly this isn't something treated with reverence by those who currently can get married. How come it is okay for straight pop stars to get married and divorced within 55 hours, but not okay for couples that have been committed to each other for decades to get married? 

So yes, we've come so far... and believe you me, we've got a long way to go. 

On the Bright Side

Will actually said that it might be worth if for McCain to win, if only so Tina Fey will keep coming back to Saturday Night Live to play Sarah Palin. That's some serious commitment to comedy!