Full Steam Ahead

Have you ever gotten stamped return envelopes with donation requests  from charitable organizations that you don't plan to send money to? What do you do with them?

Not to worry. If you had an older brother named Eddie, you know exactly what to do. One day when I was 9 I walked into the kitchen. Eddie who was 13 was at the stove.

"Watcha cookin'?' I inquired. Eddie didn't answer.

As I came closer, I noticed that he was holding an envelope up to the  spout of the teakettle. On closer inspection, I noticed the envelope was addressed to Peter, our older brother.

"What are you doing?" I asked. "That's not your letter. I'm gonna tell.  I'm gonna tell."

Eddie paused and looked at me. "You want to learn how to save money?"  He invited. He was a born salesman.

It sounded interesting. Eddie demonstrated how to boil water, then hold the stamp up to the  steam flow and, presto, the saturated stamp neatly pealed off. "If the stamp's not canceled, you can use it again."

"But you're not steaming the stamp, you're opening the envelope," I observed. 

Eddie was quick. "I'm a private detective," he countered. "Pretty neat,  huh?"

It was neat, and I had just acquired a useful skill. Of course, I use it only for good purposes.

Honest.
 

Monday, May 13, 2002 – Mary-Ann Molloy lives in Santa Cruz.

A Small but Heartfelt Tribute to the Unrecognized Mothers of the World

I want to wish a Happy Mothers Day to all mothers.  Not just the ones who received an orchid or a rhododendron yesterday with a cheery card.  I want all women who have conceived a child to step back and appreciate the wonder of our lives.

I want to recognize the mothers who lost their babies and now shake their head and say that they “ do not have a child”, and suppress their true reaction, knowing the question has to do with now, and is intended to evoke joy not pain.

I want to recognize the mothers who gave their babies up for adoption to known or unknown families.  I want to recognize the mothers who miscarried once or twice or so many times that they cannot look there anymore.

I want to recognize the mothers who aborted their pregnancies because they were told that they were too young, too old, could not afford it, would ruin their mothers, their fathers, their lovers life, were threatened with social isolation because they had no moral right if they were not with a man who would marry them, were single, or loved women.

I want to recognize the mothers who did not have their baby and now live with that truth, that difficult decision and wish that things were different, that they had taken a different path, had been given support, or knew then what they do now.

So I say “Happy Mothers Day” to all the unrecognized mothers who find it hard to remember their loss and feel received when someone finally speaks to the hidden issues that so many of us share.   I want 
to tell you that I am one of you, I was a mother if only for a few months of my life and that is my truth.  And even though no one is honoring me today, I say, “Let me honor myself”.

Bear witness and know this is a blessed path as well.
 

Monday, May 20, 2002 – Helen Vogden is a speech pathologist from Pacific Grove.

Barbie Doll

When I recently heard of the death of Ruth Handler of Barbie doll fame, my thoughts went back to my own childhood experiences with that icon of the American doll world. When I was six years old my widowed mother decided that we should move to Spain. Alas, my Chatty Kathy and Wetsy Betsy dolls were too big to travel with us across the Atlantic and only my Barbie and stuffed tiger Floppy were booked onto the 55 Saturnia for our voyage to a new life. 

My Barbie had a very unique wardrobe thanks to the sewing abilities of my older sister For my birthday she had fashioned a very elegant miniature mink stole with fur remnants and a Saks Fifth Avenue label from her sales job at that store. Once we arrived on the island of Mallorca I was enrolled in an all girl private Catholic school. There were no other educational options at that time and being the early sixties France’s Spain was still a very conservative country. 

One day I took my Barbie to school and my classmates were soon divesting her of her elaborate wardrobe, revealing the shapely feminine figure beneath. It wasn’t long before one of the nuns came to investigate the huddle in the corner of the playground and it was very shortly thereafter that I found myself sent home along with my voluptuous Barbie. 

I suppose Floppy the tiger would have been a better choice to take to school that day.
 

Wednesday, May 22, 2002 – Colin Gallagher is a city planner in Monterey and was a peace corps volunteer in El Salvador.

Peace Corps Independence

The Peace Corps has historically operated independentl.y of other governmental agencies. Now there is a seriou.s threat to this independence from the newly created USA Freedom Corps and the USA PATRJOT Act. The only agency with a mission to promote peace and. friendship is now vulnerable to informational exploitation by intelligence agencies.

The USA Freedom Corps requests what i.s called  "RELEVANT INFORMATION” from its members. One of the members of the USA Freedom Corps Council is the Attorney General; another is the Director of Peace Corps. The USA PATRIOT Act orders the Attorney General to act with the Director of C.IA., to program training of Federal officials who are, quote, “not normally engaged in.identifying and utilizing foreign. intelligence.”

What will foreign governments already suspicious of the United States think of this development?

The solution is to IMMEDIATELY draft legislation stating that the “relevant information” mentioned in the Freedom Corps Executive Order shall, not apply to information, associated with Peace Corps, and that section 908 of the PATRIOT Act shall not apply to the Peace Corps.

Legislation is currentl.y being drafted that could protect Peace Corps from the USA Freedom. Corps, so now is the time to contact your Representatives and let them know what to do. You can. find more on the Peace Corps Independence movement, and a related. petition, at www.peacecorpsonline.org -  Act now for Peace.
 

Monday, May 27, 2002 – Bruce Scott is a psychotherapist and peace activist

Free the Children

I am not in the Mid-East today.  Today, I am with Boye, our eight year old son, living peacefully on the California coast.  And it matters to me what hapens in Palestine, Isreal, the Congo, the U.S., where children and adults kill and maim each other and feel justified in doing so, where political and religious beliefs drive grown women and men and ungrown children to destroy people, houses and cities.

Yet I am not in those warring countries.  I have the priviledge to live in a quiet neighborhood.  So far, bomb free.  So what does the anger, terror and killing in the world reflect in my world of relatinships with people, especially Boye?  How do I inflict terror on others?  Maybe not life threatening but life force threatening?

The comparison might seen off, yet it's real.  Where is the spirit and soul of all those carrying weapons?  Where is my spirit and soul?  Do I carry a weapon as an adult parent?  Do I suppress or kill the spirit of others with an admonishing, make-wrong, blaming tone of voice?  Does Boye have to go underground with who he is and what he knows to protect himself from an onslaught of adulthood beliefs and fears - voices that shut him down?   Teachers that judge and compare?

That is my work now.  To speak up for the children.  To stand for the strength of their innocence.  To risk discomfort.  To surround him with people of kindness.  To free the children from voices not their own.  Boye is in my life now, today.  Part of my work in the world is to hold space for Boye and all children to emerge on their own, in their own time, in my neighborhood, peacefully.

I can do that.
 

Wednesday, May 29, 2002 – Michael Chanin is a psychiatric social worker living in Santa Cruz

Tears

I am 46 years old - a baby boomer - and I’ve developed a curious new behavior. I cry to music. Now you may be wondering what’s so unusual about crying to music? It happens everyday. But not in my life, crying doesn’t come easy. Just ask my wife or my therapist. So when I began weeping to music, I paid close attention, and what I’ve learned is that I’m moved to tears when I listen to the music from my past, the artists of the ‘6Os — Judy Collins, The Beatles, Joni Mitchell. A couple of Saturdays ago, I was at the kitchen sink washing dishes. It was early, my wife was still asleep, so I put on my headphones and a CD The Best of Judy Collins. And in the blink of an eye, my eyes were moist pools. I was overcome with emotions. It was deep and it was compelling. I stood there in the stillness of the morning asking myself, What is this about? And like putting a puzzle together, I carefully gathered my pieces.

Now some of you may have arrived at your own conclusions. Nostalgia is a good bet. And I agree. I believe there is some truth to that. I do long for the past. But it’s more than that. I know that it’s not simply nostalgia. A friend suggested that it was the lost innocence of youth. And I think there is truth to that too. But the last piece to the puzzle came to me while I was driving my car. I was alone listening to a news broadcast. The announcer was interviewing highschoolers about President Clinton’s impeachment proceedings.

Suddenly, I was crying again. Put this time it wasn’t to music. I was weeping to teenagers who sounded so confident, promising — because life is still ripe for the picking. I heard self assurance, innocence and earnest, conviction in their voices.

And I remembered my voice discussing Yiet Nam, the civil rights movement - the dream for a better world. I was fresh and hopeful.

And today driving to work, I weep for two distinctly different reasons. I cry because I am grateful to be a part of that ‘63’s generation, and I am also sad that somehow, somewhere I’ve buried the dream along the way.