Forget Reagan, What Would Gramp Do?

People are scared. There’s talk of another Great Depression. And it seems that when a crisis so ominous comes along, both Republicans and Dems look to the past. “What would Reagan do?” say the Republicans who have had weak leadership in recent years. And “Remember the Clinton boom and budget surplus?” say the Democrats. We reminisce as we’re led like lemmings off a cliff. But can a powerful nation like the United States really let that happen again? Soup lines…Grapes of Wrath despair… 25 % unemployment? Things are different today. There are more safeguards against such a thing—the FDIC, unemployment that teeters around 6%, and a more stabilized Gross National Product than in the early 1930s. But we’re so spoiled and entitled, maybe it’s all relative. We may have to decide between our lawn service and our cleaning lady. Or the kids may suffer the humiliation of using an outdated iPOD…or we may need to buy a (gulp) used car.

If you want to know how to survive a deep recession that emotionally feels like a depression, don’t turn to the government. Ask your grandparents, if you’re lucky enough to have them with you. Or, say a prayer for their guidance. The members of the Greatest Generation, as coined by Tom Brokaw, were heroic in so many ways. My Gram and Gramp were guiding forces in my life into my 40s. It was a huge turning point in our family when they died only 7 months apart from each other. Gramp was a true hero of WWII, awarded two bronze stars and saving God knows how many of his fellow soldiers’ lives. We don’t know, because he never talked about it. Gram raised four kids on her own while Gramp was serving in Germany. In the 1960s and 70s, we remember their house as a safe haven—splashing in the pool, building tree forts and cuddling on the couch to watch Milton Berle or Lawrence Welk. They lived only a quarter mile or so from us, so my sister and I could walk there. And we did, just about every weekend. Gram and Gramp had a nice house and a comfortable life, but were always frugal. They had big holiday parties and barbecues, but never traveled. They gave us way too much at Christmas, but Gram saved her S&H green stamps in a little book. While Gram would be baking a pie in the kitchen, I’d wander into Gramp’s Magic Emporium known as his garage. “I need some kind of thick red cord for my science project, Gramp.” He would look at his dozens of containers (rejects from Gram’s kitchen) and pull out a plastic cool whip container of string and cords of every color and size. “Here’s a good red one,” he’d say. And it would be perfect. When I was a young adult, I was invited to a murder mystery party and the theme was a 1950s sock hop. My assigned role was a cheerleader…so I dug out my high school orange and black letter sweater and a black skirt. On my way to the mall to hunt for orange and black pom poms, I stopped as always to see Gram and Gramp. I told Gramp what my mission was and he said, “Hold on.” He disappeared into the cellar to access its crawlspace—a vortex of things past and present. He returned with…you guessed it. “Here you go, two orange and black poms poms.” I was stunned. They didn’t even smell musty. “I won’t ask where you got these,” I said, a little freaked out. This was exactly how my grandparents lived, always in the ready, with more canned food on the cellar shelves than they could ever consume and prepared for anything life dished out. Their willingness to save up for the things they desired made them so much sweeter. They believed in sacrificing today so their kids and grandkids would be better off tomorrow. They didn’t know greed or competitive spending to keep up with the Joneses. They knew the difference between really hard times and how to preserve the good times. We can’t depend on the government to get us through, but the answers may already be inside all of us. If we didn’t learn this deep seated resourcefulness from them then, we must learn it now.

The Debatable Pitbull: Open Snout, Insert Paw

Everyone watched the VP debate with anticipation, like looking at a car wreck, kind of half peeking over the couch to see some blood and (dare I say it?) gore. We didn’t get Palin’s off-the-cuff gibberish that we had in the Couric or Gibson interview—and that alone made her rise above the lowered expectations. But, she used the same babbling approach with betchas, dang its and gollies. It was mind-numbing. Like Mr. Rogers in drag, Sarah once again reminded us that she’s just like your neighbor out at the soccer field. Sweet. But I think the problems of the mortgage crisis, world economy, fragile foreign policies in Iraq, Afghanistan and Iran, climate change, gas prices, healthcare etc. need a powerful mind. As much as I love my neighbors, I want someone smarter than them (or me) to tackle these issues. And she’s just not. I was tempted to count all the times she used the word “also” –then I realized the also was her only way to string together a series of unrelated topics (the ones she memorized and rehearsed) no matter what the question. If the question was Wall St. she turned to taxes; if it was deregulation, she turned to energy. Her pitbullish excuse: “I may not answer as you Joe or the moderator want me to.” Joe Biden is not your teacher nor is Gwen Ifill the principle. It’s a debate! They don’t care how you answer, but ask only that you stick to the question. There’s no gotcha here. Like when Palin said we can go after terrorists in Pakistan, that wasn’t Katie Couric. That was a student. When you’re Sarah Palin and they let you out in public, I guess everyone is out to Getcha. But in the debate, it was glaringly obvious how many questions she just didn’t grasp: nuclear weapons, what an Achilles Heel means (dang that mythology!), the Wall St. situation etc. She’s not qualified, she’s not knowledgeable and there’s no question that Biden won the debate on the issues. But selfishly, I cannot not bear the thought of listening to hokey hockey stories in a voice that sounds like Mrs. Poole from the Hogan Family. Or, the mispronuniciation of the word nuclear for 4 more years!

Speaking in Tongues

There are a couple of things that make me cringe while watching the tube. The Brady Bunch Reunion Special comes to mind. George Bush mangling the English language is another. Lately, I’m feeling embarrassed for Sarah Palin and for us as a nation. Now we know why they are hiding her. The few sneak peeks into her intellect just conjure up more Funniest Home Video moments that make our country look like bimbonic dumb dumbs. When asked about the bail out, she appeared to be speaking in tongues. “Well it’s all tied to national healthcare (what?) …and it’s all about job creation (really?). Is she missing what the bail out proposal is really about? Is Wall Street now tackling national healthcare and job creation? She is starting to hang herself with these—well convoluted ramblings that we do not know where they are streaming from. It's almost like watching the Miss USA pageant where the contestants share simple minded platitudes about world peace and goodness for all. I must give props to Katie Couric, she seems to be growing a pair and earning some street cred. Unlike other reporters who let politicians skate by and not answer direct questions, she persisted….actually insisted on answers. In part two, we hear Palin talk about being her state being close to Russia. She rambled, “As Putin rears his head and comes into the air space of the United States of America where do they go? Alaska.” This is only a preview and the world is waiting.

Empty Photo Op

Let’s prop up Sarah Palin and show pretty pictures of her sitting with world leaders—maybe she’ll learn about foreign policy by skin contact, breathing the same air or seeing their souls in their eyes. But no writers, no questions and no substance, please! You can fool some of the people, but don’t try to kid this PR person with your phony world leaders photo op. In a lame attempt to get video and photos of Sarah Palin next to world leaders (and that was about the size of it, her sitting next to them making small talk), the media fought back. The total control freakish McCain campaign wanted the headlines and b-roll, but no editorial questions. Questions are hard. They demand answers, which obviously Palin is not ready to give. She’s still cramming for the big exam. So when the networks joined forces and said they would not run the coveted photos and soundless video, the campaign relented and let a CNN producer in for all of 29 seconds of nonsensical chit chat. “No writers, no writers” was the command from Palin’s bouncers as the press pool entered the room. If the McCain campaign is so proud of their pick, why won’t they let her speak in an uncontrolled environment? She chatted with Afghanistan’s President Karzai about babies (a subject she does know first hand), and his own son born last year, and then press conference OVER. We can only imagine the important world- shaking conversation that ensued: “I love your green kaftan, is that silk?” Maybe in her UN meetings this week, she will pass along a valuable gem of info to John McCain—that Prime Minister Zapatero is nearing the end of his term in Spain and the revelation that Spain is not in Latin America. It’s like watching the movie Fargo, with the accent, the pregnancies, the bumbling--but it’s getting too far fetched and running out of laughs.

Palin’ in Comparison

Here’s the irony and believe me, I love irony unless it threatens the future existence of my civil union (thank you New Jersey) or the rights of women everywhere. Here is just one example: Sarah Palin doesn’t believe in Evolution or Global Warming but she DOES believe the Rapture will happen in her lifetime. God’s a comin’ and Sarah and her brood are going to get swept into the sky with a few select others. However in her view, it is mythology that ocean temperatures are rising at an alarming rate. And the dinosaurs, fossils, science of carbon dating, etc. are just tricks played on us by a red guy with horns and a tail who lives at the center of the earth. It makes sense, right? No wonder she doesn’t care about this planet or the creatures that inhabit it, she already has her exit strategy. Earth is so “yesterday” dude.

John McCain’s Little Fishies Like to Cuddle
Thank God for YouTube. They archived John McCain’s take on the environmental friendliness of the cuddly oil industry. Oil is like Snuggles the Bear, who likes to land on your laundry basket. As McCain addressed an audience of head-bobbing supporters who looked drugged, he did a hunched over giddy little dance around the stage, looking disturbingly like Uncle Fester from the Adam’s family. As he twittered “On that oil rig — you look down, and there’s fish everywhere! There’s fish everywhere! Yeah, the fish love to be around those rigs. So not only can it be helpful for energy, it can be helpful for some pretty good meals as well.” Meals? Meaning the fish are easier to catch (for us) or they are licking off the oil platforms? I guess John McCain is a reaaaally abstract thinker, like Michael Keaten’s great quote in Nightshift: “I’m an idea man… I say we feed the mayonnaise to the tuna before we catch them!” I find myself hiding behind furniture when he appears on the TV screen…what is next?

Da-Do Reg Reg

How do you UnDe-Reg your support of De-Regulation? News clips from a year ago (and two decades past) show John McCain supporting Bush in the de-regulation of Wall Street. All for benefit of his Freddie Mac cronies. In other words, like a Girls Gone Wild/ Spring Break orgy, leave them alone and let them do their thing. Then George Bush distances himself from the financial crisis and says Wall Street got drunk and now it has a hangover! Hahaha, except now Wall Street overdosed on heroin and is in the ER. Not so funny George, as our 401Ks take a dive into the toilet. So, how does John McCain flip flop during this crisis and become Regulator Man? Without looking like a h-h-h hypocrite?? Obama should hammer on this ad nauseum.

Reflections on The Jews of New York (PBS) and Our Nana

The Jews of New York captivated me, although I am not Jewish, my partner is. Well, ¾ as she says, but her mother is, and that apparently is the ticket. I loved this program because it brought to life all the great New York stories her Nana (who is now MY Nana) has told us …the Pogroms, the push carts, the busy streets and fresh food. Nana comes to stay with us from Florida a few weeks a year. A scotch-drinking, wisecracking, worldly and wise 91 year old who is sharp as a tack and hysterically funny, Nana drops the F bomb when emphasis is needed. Or, other expletives that would cause most 90 year olds to plotz. I taped the Jews of New York for her and promise to take her to “Russ and Daughters” for authentic Jewish appetizers and paper thin lox this spring. This was my favorite part of the show—it was a heart warming story of a family’s appetizing business. The two original Russ daughters who took over the store from their father remind me of somewhat of Nana with their Yiddish musings. As for their famous sandwich the Super Heeb, I think when you’re inside the culture, you can make fun. We (affectionately) call food store coupons “Jewpons.” Hey we like a bargain!

We hope Nana is coming for our civil union reception in May 08, since she could not make the original ceremony last May. She loves to stay here and we feel nothing but love and support from her. We’re also the only grandkids daring enough to let her near the stove so she can cook to her hearts content.. She “makes the rug” (rugalach) from scratch as well as potato latkas. She cuts her fingers a lot, like any great cook who handles knives and refuses to have cateract surgery. But, avoiding doctors for 60 plus years is why she has lived this long—along with her daily scotch. She also makes a potent Cosmo and won’t take no for an answer. We have an after 5 pm rule on that one. She reads with a magnifying glass, but her recipes are all in her head. C’mon Nana, I said to her on the phone, walk me through Zen style on your lentil soup! She teaches me how to swear and castigate others in Yiddish. We both launch when G Dubya appears on the TV screen….Oy vey is ma…you schmendrik, nudnik, schmageggy face! Come back Nana, now that I’ve lost the 6 or 7 pounds I gained last time you were here! I’ll even vote for your boy Ron Paul.