“…no, really. I’m not.”

Ah, but the complexities of ignorance do prevail.

So we hired a kid. Nothing unusual there. Her first job, parental control, seventeen and in the 9th grade-you recognize the drill. I am convinced that troubled and deviant kids are God’s way of speaking to my inner ear. “Dee. Hear me now. Who, exactly, were YOU at 16?’ I always assign these kids a 50/50 chance. Fifty percent of them are the perfect blank canvas, fifty percent spin out into oblivion. This girl, was in neither category…

I suppose a few alarm bells rang out in me when both parents dropped her off on the first day of her first job. Yes, I DID give her my standard army issue speech about hiring HER and not her parents. Too many weird and bizarre experiences with parents in my history have forced me to incorporate this line into my hiring dialogue.

Despite my internal notifications, Ie; paying way too much attention to her hair with her right hand and leaning on the counter while listening to our instruction, I left for the night.

Flag, flag, flag.

Flag alerts compel me to phone the store later that night. “Hey, Benji. How’s the new girl doing?”

“Um…well, Dee, I don’t think she’s for us.”

“Really, Ben? Why?”

 So my new assistant who, by the way, just turned 19 last month, proceeds to clue me in.

“I thanked a group of people for coming in, (an important part of our customer service repertoire is thanking folks whether they purchase something or not) and I told [so and so] that we have to exit greet people as part of our job.”

“Ok, Ben. Then what happened?”

“Well, she said that she wasn’t gonna talk to those people. I asked her why because I thought they might have been rude to her or something. She said; ” I don’t like black people. They smell and have greasy hair and they don’t take care of themselves.”

Obviously, I was flabbergasted. How does a 17 year old child living in THIS EFFING CENTURY insouciantly make a statement like that?

I have encountered many people during my 20+ years here in the South that have blown my mind. My first mgr at KCI said he hated gay people. His wife used racial epithets often. I was crushed. But those episodes of idiocy occured 14 years ago. I get that racism is alive and well in this country, especially in the South, but is it spoken out loud with such impunity? Seriously? I thought (wrongly) that cowardly haters kept their mouths shut.

I phoned her parents. (Rule #3-never talk to the parents. But in this case I made an exception). I explained to the Mom why her daughter was starting and ending a job on the same day. She was confused. “But Miss Dee, we’re not racial.”

You’re not WHAT? You’re not racial? Geez, lady. You’re not literate, either.

I had to, I just HAD TO speak with the daughter. “You came in to the store with your best friend the other day to finalize your paperwork. Her grandparents drove y’all up here. Your best friend is black. Please tell me how you think she’d feel knowing what you said tonight.”

“I don’t know, Dee. I guess she would be hurt. But I’m NOT racial.”

There you have it. Those folks are not racial. You heard it here.

It blows my mind to hear this shit STILL. It’s twenty-0-nine people! WTF?

If there is a silver lining in all of this, it’s Benji. He’s only two years older than the; “I’m not racial,” person and he has values and guts that speak to him through injustice. I’m proud of him for feeling uncomfortable. I’m proud of him for growing up in a county (yes, county) that has more than its share of ignorant philosophies and accepting that we all live on this planet together-no better, no worse. He understands equality.

Our company does too. We do not discriminate. Our clever HR folks even snuck the ‘sexual orientation’ clause into our policy. God knows, I’ve heard plenty of gay-hating lingo over the years. Good to know that we work for a company that stands up, and rightly so.

As for so-and-so, the ex-employee… I hope she can one day realize that we are ALL racial, but racists are a dying breed. There is no ‘cool-factor’ involved with blatant ignorance. Not now, not ever.

I’m not certain today, if Gracie is still Earth bound. I do know that she has been straddling the line between here and gone. It’s been hard, as it has always been hard, for me to wrap my mind around death. Death has shown up as several characters in the play of my life. The first of significance was our family dog, Sheba. After that, I remember little of the human or animal departures, aside from flashes in my mind. Until 1990. My friend Ed.

 Death seems to come so fast and furious now. Chalk it up to my aging human form. My Godfather died last month. Len and Rod were partners for almost as long as I’ve been aboard planet Earth. Now he’s gone. Death kills the living, I believe. It kills a piece of me every time.

Gracie, though. I fancied her invincible. She kicked my ass, knocked me down and broke into my soul. I’m not sure if I hate her for that. I’m not sure about love at all, really. I can’t decide why love makes sense. I hate this suffocating, choking state I’m in. Would I trade the loving for the hurting? I can’t answer that just yet.

All I know is that I can’t save Gracie, or her Mom. And this reality angers me into shutting it all down…

Been awhile since I’ve written, eh?

Things (What, exactly, are things?) have been going so very well and I haven’t wanted to jinx them with some melancholy post that usually shows up in my blog.

Work is good. New staff for the new year has carried in their pockets renewed hope.

Family is great. Sis and nieces came for a visit over Christmas, Helen has placed another sibling in the doghouse and I’ve made a connection with my brand new sister in law.

Friends are wonderful. Meeting up with old pals next week, reconnecting with long lost school mates via Facebook and keeping myself aligned with the equilibrium of the necessary rules of such relationships.

Girls are…Girls are…well, girls still haven’t figured much into my daily schemes.

But all in all, I’ll not trade any of my plusses for the inevitable minus.

Girls will simply have to wait their turn…

 I am still trying to put a grasp on my thoughts and feelings this morning. Trying to make manifest my hopes, into words. It still feels surreal, still feels numbing, still feels like my dream.

Let me begin…

I survived a harrowing day at work yesterday. (Dammit! I keep forgetting to check my Phoenix-chart for these obstacle courses). For the first time in my absolute ever, I closed the store and showed my emotional hand to the key players in charge of keeping the train moving during my (often lengthy) absences. The players who were allowing the steady march toward chaos. I cried in front of them. I raised my voice to them. I asked for a few resignations. I just didn’t care anymore. The end of my proverbial rope was at hand. I remember telling them that I cared about each of them. I remember following that statement up with;  “However, I will not let my personal feelings for any of you jeopardize this store, this company. If you do not climb aboard our train this instant, get out. Put your keys on the counter and just get out.” I was then looking into the shocked faces of a team who’ve never witnessed their coach in such a vulnerable, yet serious state. (No, not one person took the express train to ‘outta here’). I was shocked too. I only wanted to spend the day rallying for my candidate, not altering my reality. But hear me when I tell you that I was WILLING to let go.

 (This drawing is courtesy of Doe. Yes she’s an idiot, but hell on those stick figure pics, eh?)

 All this, on election day. The day that for me, was a climax to the fretting and fear and the waning and waxing of hope over the past two years. The pushing and prodding and relenting of all things registering, all things voter, all things relevant. Relevant to me, the center of my own universe. The center where we all live, despite altruistic protests.

I left that place. I drove with lumpy, knotty, googly stomach to Lu and Vern’s. We had family night planned. BLT’s, CNN and unity. No matter what happened in the blue vs. red states, we would be together. We would plot our exodus to California, Canada or lands beyond the reach of the next W administration.

The first electoral voting screen appeared. 5:50 pm. McCain more. Obama less. “FUCK!”

 Vern calmed me then. It’s early, Deedle. Too early.

Then came Ohio. Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Iowa, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Maine,…like popping corn came the blue states. Our hope, renewed. I began just then, chanting my mantra; “Nanny nanny boo boo, I told you Lu-Lu. Peace out, girl scout. This election’s a blowout!” Yup, I’m a goofball.

I have so much left to say, y’all. I have so much more to tell you. But I have to get busy just now. I heard president-elect Obama when he told us to get to work in our community. I have to prepare for tomorrow. Much to be done. Much to be proud of. I am proud, you know. You feel it, right?

But I’m going to write for you- Barack, Michelle, Ffej, Lu, Vern, Audrey, Ana, Doe, Yadge, Jann, Pooh, Jen, my blog benefactor and friend- Eh-Net, Phoenix and all folks who’ve endured my rants.

Hang on, I’m not at all done blogging about the day. No way-just beginning. But you asked for a taste, and there it is. My words are coming, please keep a sharp eye out…the horizon never looked clearer.

This here Yank ain’t done yet.

Dear Red States, we’re ticked off at the way you’ve treated California, and we’ve decided we’re leaving.  We intend to form our own country, and we’re taking the other Blue States with us.

  In case you aren’t aware, that includes Hawaii, Oregon, Washington, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Michigan, Illinois and the entire Northeast. We believe this split will be beneficial to the nation, and especially to the people of the new country of New California.
 
To sum up briefly:
 
You get Texas, Oklahoma and all the slave states.
 
We get stem cell research and the best beaches.We get Nancy Pelosi.  You get Sarah Palin.
 
We get the Statue of Liberty.  You get Wal-Mart.
 
We get Intel and Microsoft.  You get WorldCom.
 
We get Harvard.  You get Ole’ Miss.
 
We get 85 percent of America’s venture capital and entrepreneurs.  You get Alabama.
 
We get two-thirds of the tax revenue.  You get to make the red states pay their fair share.
 
Since our aggregate divorce rate is 22 percent lower than the Christian Coalition’s, we get a bunch of happy families.  You get a bunch of single moms.
 
Please be aware that Nuevo California will be pro-choice and anti-war, and we’re going to want all our citizens back from Iraq at once.  If you need people to fight, ask your evangelicals.
 
They have kids they’re apparently willing to send to their deaths for no purpose, and they don’t care if you don’t show pictures of their children’s caskets coming home.
 
We do wish you success in Iraq, and hope that the WMDs turn up, but we’re not willing to spend our resources in Bush’s Quagmire.
 
With the  Blue States in hand, we will have firm control of 80 percent of the country’s fresh water, more than 90 percent of the pineapple and lettuce, 92 percent of  the nation’s fresh fruit, 95 percent of America’s quality wines (you can serve  French wines at state dinners) 90 percent of all cheese, 90 percent of the high tech industry, most of the U.S. low-sulfur coal, all living redwoods, sequoias and condors, all the Ivy and Seven Sister schools, plus Stanford, Cal Tech and MIT.
 
With the Red States, on the other hand, you will have to cope with 88 percent of all obese Americans (and their projected health care costs), 92 percent of all U.S. mosquitoes, nearly 100 percent of the tornadoes, 90 percent of the hurricanes, 99 percent of all Southern Baptists, virtually 100 percent of all televangelists, Rush Limbaugh, Bob Jones University, Clemson and the University of Georgia.
 
We get Hollywood and Yosemite, thank you.
 
Additionally, 38 percent of those in the Red states believe Jonah was actually swallowed by a whale, 62 percent believe life is sacred unless we’re discussing the death penalty or gun laws, 44 percent say that evolution is only a theory, 53 percent that Saddam was involved in 9/11, and 61 percent of you crazy bastards believe you are people with higher morals than we lefties.
 
By the way, we’re taking the good pot, too.  You can have that dirt weed they grow in Mexico.

  My name is Dee Fortin and I intend to vote sensibly. I vote on the issues that affect me, my friends, my family, my dreams, my hopes for this great country. I will not stand silently by and watch a woman who has no interest beyond her own gun-toting, abortion opposing (even in the event of rape), earmarker of funds for Alaska, abuser of power, bridge to nowhere profiter, ex brother-in-law banishing, women’s rights bashing agenda. I believe in the strength and tenacity of women. I do not believe that Sarah Palin is among us. Her cutesy terms and admitted redneckism, Joe-shmo, hockey ho, perceptions have no place in the lives of hardworking Americans. THIS IS SCARY PEOPLE! The actuary tables don’t lie. SHE MIGHT BE PRESIDENT! I vote HELL NO in November. I shudder to think of the consequences of ignorant ballot casting. We must vote our conscience. Suffragettes lament in their graves knowing this woman is on any ballot, anywhere, despite their battles to grant us voting rights. I am pro-woman, but I am most surely anti-Palin. Let’s not be affected by John McCain’s desperate attempt at appealing to our solidarity as women. We cannot afford to be fooled.

 I will also be voting no on two. The constitutional amendment Article 1, new section, which prohibits, in a nut shell, marriage between any persons other than one man, one woman. Furthermore, Florida is the only state that specifically bans gays from adopting. I challenge any Floridian lawmaker (yes, you Governor Crist), to tell me to my face that I am ill-equipped, based soley on my sexual preference, to care for a child. I’ve been caring for YOUR high school dropouts since I moved here. This is a ludicrous and plain; ‘good ole boy’ redneck philosophy that needs to be expunged. I am here to change the minds of good American people who have sense. But I don’t do it by preaching fear and bigotry from atop an ignorant soapbox. I do it with grace, tolerance and intellect. As my constitution reads to me.

They place a black stocking over their head and act the fool. Or, at least that’s what my Grandmother used to say. Vern, you’re my chosen Dad. Stop acting like a goon and forcing me and Lu to walk two paces ahead o’ you at all times…showin’ up on the ten o’ clock news ‘n shit…Love you. Dork and all.

Here’s me and Lu. In the nosebleed section of our semi-season-ticketed seats. The very first quarter, before Hines got Ward-er.

 We spent the SunDAY cooking. Foraging through recipes.  Slurping and drooling over clear miso broths, brussells sprouts braised with a small little cross. Roasted veg and thinly sliced shallots. Lu picked out a fancy-shmancy, pear salad. I didn’t get to go cook on this night. I was busy it seems with making things right. I wasn’t successful as I head off to bed…but fuck it, I say, there’s still room for bread. Off on the highway, I’ll leave in the morning, don’t tell me y’all, I didn’t give you no warning…Peace out to you, I hope there’s no bull.. . Lu said my lasagna left y’all full.

See you on Sunday, when I figure it out. Meantime, I’ll drive and ponder and pout…

But the good news is this… La Caretta, is bliss. Bistec empanizado, plantain fritos y mojo. Pastalitos con guava y queso etc…yum. David’s Cafe on East Collin’s Ave. The South Beach hotties I can wake up and just…have.

 It’ll be all good, ‘cuz it’s what I do. See y’all there in spirit or two…

http://slackeruprising.com/download/location.php?utm_medium=download&utm_source=31371199

The republican party has provided an economic meltdown. The democratic supporter Michael Moore, gave us clean undies and Ramen noodles. Rising up, I am. 

…What does; “patriotism” mean, Mama?

 “I’m not sure, darling. Perhaps it means an inherent love of country too deep to explain its devotion…”

So here’s another secret about me; One of my most favorite things about having season tickets to the Jacksonville Jaguar games is this; the National Anthem. Yes, it’s true. Even though I have to admit that I don’t fully understand the lyrics. (I had to Google, “rampart,” y’all). I absolutely LOVE watching us all stand, remove our hats, and place our hand over our hearts. Ok, so I forget that part sometimes. But geez! I spent most of my youth saving the damn Queen and… “standing on guard for thee…” Canada style.

But here’s where cool comes in with a vibrating boom…there’s always a fly-over from U.S. jets after the anthem du jour. This last game vs. the Buffalo Chips- oops, I meant to say, Bills, I was seriously concerned that our pilots had gone haywire. The National Anthem had ended and yet I was staring into the sun with the sinking heart of a child when she finds out that Santa just isn’t able to stop by this year. “Maybe they’re coming at half-time,” said I. But no, the zoomy-boomy-looming planes were merely lining up for the right formation. To see and hear them approach y’all? It is an amazing feeling. I hate war. I hate that our jets go to war. I hate that our countrymen have to fight anywhere and anything.  But dammit! I sure LOVE to watch our Air Force fly so close to me that I can feel them, so close that I feel safety because of them. I love this land o’ the free. I don’t give a shit what you think about the politics of our country-as long as you think about the women and men who are in it, flying it, facing it, living and dying it. I don’t salute Mr. Bush. But I WILL stand up, remove my hat and place my right (right, not left, Dee!), hand over my heart. Because I have one. I have a heart and that’s what makes me grateful this day, to be free. WAHOOOO AMERICA! Did you hear me shouting for you at the top of my lungs? Did you hear me?