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barack obama
November 2009 
Up From the Grassroots
Posted on Nov 29th, 2008
by 
Dryad
Dryad
THE MORNING AFTER
November 3, 2004
A glooming peace this morning with it brings; The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head: (Romeo and Juliet Act V, scene III)
My daughters cry this morning
In despair
For their faith, their work
Was not enough for their
Hearts are splintered from the inside
My daughters cry this morning
In frustration
Because they had the courage to care
To fight the ease of apathy
Deny the pull of self and focus out
They cared and worked and gave
Then sat and watched the takers
Win
My daughters cry this morning
In fear
For their unborn children, for forests
Slaughtered, air defiled, for
Rights denied and Arts forgotten
For the real horror of war
My daughters cry this morning
This afternoon, they wipe their tears
And reach across the miles
For each others hands
It is silent, this smooth strength
It circles round and round
Shining, flowing molten steel
This evening my daughter's eyes
Begin to narrow
Chins come up
Bootlaces are being tugged
Tomorrow my daughters will wake up
Unhappy
Determined
Brilliant and beautiful
Sadder and wiser, guardians of the next age
Who will not turn away
Tomorrow my daughters will wake up
Fighting
Edwina Peterson Cross
November 3, 2004
I am always just a little bit late for everything these days. About now, I am sure everyone is at the point of gratefully forgetting an election that was nerve wreaking and frightening. And, of course, this is when I finally get my Blog on the subject finished.
I have not quite recovered from the election yet. I have an almost real moment of fear every morning when I am afraid that I dreamed the whole thing. I will admit to letting my eyes rest a little longer than necessary on the words “President Elect of the United States,” behind Barack Obama’s name. It was a long election. The eight years proceeding it were even longer.
We realized that those last eight years comprise almost all of my children’s ‘political memory’. All of my daughters voted in their first presidential election in 2000. My eldest daughter, a Sophomore in college at the time, split a bottle of champagne with about twenty friends to celebrate Al Gore’s victory. They hoisted their thimble full of bubbly in a toast to the future and went to bed. After all, it was midweek and they had classes in the morning. They woke up to find what would turn out to be the beginning of a nightmare. Everything was different than what they had thought; different than what it should have been. My daughters have been fighting since the day after they cast their first vote.
The hardest thing for me during these years has been the apathy and lethargy that seemed to over take my own generation. Not here at Gaia, certainly, but in many other areas, I found people my own age doing a lot of shrugging. Or making a lot of noise about hopelessness without doing anything to try and restore that hope. The children I knew, who became young adults during this time, kept fighting for what they believe in - fighting hard and never letting up - while a lot of those of us who ought to know better surrendered to despair and gave in to the darkness. I have had plenty of my own moments of both depression and despair and I know they are in no way over.
I had one acquaintance who became very fond of the word ‘Armageddon.’ Armageddon was constantly looming; and everything brought it up from unrest in the Middle East to the weather. I noted that “Armageddon” is a concept which has been run through so many different incarnations that it has turned into a catch phrase and doesn’t really have a universally accepted meaning. I’ve heard it used as a noun, a verb, even an adjective. The ‘Armageddon’ in Revelations probably happened as the Roman army assaulted Jerusalem in AD 67. World War I was routinely called “Armageddon” before World War II. She replied, “I understand Revelations is quite difficult to understand. I haven’t ever read it.” This from a very vocal Christian who routinely used the word to describe why hope was futile. I nearly died!
I am haunted by the vision of James Watt, who as Secretary of the Interior under Ronald Regan based his approach of environmental management on the fact that the imminent return of Christ would make long range management unnecessary. There is debate on his statement to Congress that Environmentalism was a hindrance to faith since Christ would not come until the last tree was felled. Whether or not he made that statement at that time, he said the same thing in many other situations. He was my husband’s boss in the Washington Office. He said “Environmentalist” as if it were a dirty word. There are still sudden huge clear cuts in the forests of Oregon that are his legacy. Fly over the state and you can see them gaping like wounds in carpet of green. He really wanted to get his hands on the redwoods of Northern California, seeking to lift logging restrictions in National Forest’s and preserves. He thought even the idea of protecting trees was a joke. During a March 1991 dinner event organized by the Green River Cattlemen's Association in Wyoming, Watt said, "If the troubles from environmentalists cannot be solved in the jury box or at the ballot box, perhaps the cartridge box should be used." In a 2001 interview, Watt applauded the Bush administration energy strategy and said their prioritization of oil drilling and coal mining above conservation is just what he recommended in the early 1980s."Everything Cheney's saying, everything the president's saying - they're saying exactly what we were saying 20 years ago, precisely ... Twenty years later, it sounds like they've just dusted off the old work." Indeed. I am haunted by the ghost of James Watt and he isn’t even dead.
At one time there was a satire on the 23rd Psalm circulating the internet. “Bush is my Shepherd.” It was a sad, but true, cleverly written, well delivered satire. It happened to hit my e-mail box the same day as a Group Message from a Yahoo-Group. It was September of 2005, right after Hurricanes Katrina and Rita had hit the southeastern part of the United States. Responding to a call for aid and prayers for the people of New Orleans and the Texas Gulf, one member of the group, in Canada, had written a long, virulent message urging other members of the group not to send aid, even prayers, because the people of the United States did not deserve it. Her ‘reasons’ were all, directly, George W. Bush. Based on several policy decisions and a lot of negative personality traits, she very seriously told the members of the group not to pray for the people of New Orleans because the “Arrogant Americans” deserved to die. When I read “Bush is my Shepard” immediately after, with it’s tone of negativity and pessimism, even though it was true and really quite witty and sharp . . . I saw red . . . with a few wandering traces of white and blue. Below is the original and the answer I wrote.
The only part that is really news worthy is the line that reads: “For in my country we have a voice. In my country there is a choice. And 2008 will come.” It was something we said to each other quite often during those long eight years. “Keep the faith. 2008 will come.”
My father was a history and geography professor. He was also a nationally recognized public speaker on the broad subject “Americanism.” He spoke on the unique governmental system, the working of ‘checks and balances’ and the functions of each branch as well as the history of government and the rights and responsibilities of citizens. For over fifteen years he conducted a unique program called “Voters Awareness” in the western United States. He and my mother went into High Schools and during day long workshops, taught the senior class, who were about to vote for the first time, about their rights and responsibilities as voting citizens. The high statistics for first year voter turn out in the areas where he conducted his program were staggering.
My father taught me that no form of government is perfect, but that what we have works because the mechanics for change are built in. When the people see something is wrong, we are able to change it. It doesn’t mean we necessarily will - witness 2004. The process is often capricious and erratic. Sometimes it is so capricious that it is downright terrifying - and I don’t have to mention any names for you to know what I mean. It was THAT frightening. But the system does give us the opportunity for change.
I have to admit, eight years is a long, long time to feel like there is a bull loose in your china closet and things looked very dark to me in November of 2004 when I wrote “The Morning After.” But 2008 did come and brought with it both change and hope. President Obama has an uphill battle ahead, but he hit the ground running and I have to admit, I am delighted to watched him run. My father taught me to love my country, it was one of the most important things in his life. Like Natalie Maines of the Dixie Chicks, I have been embarrassed by the President of my Country. Like Michelle Obama, it’s been a long time since I was proud of the entire outfit.
We have a family story in which I, at about the age of three, inform an adult at a 4th of July parade not to let the flag touch the ground. “That is my Daddy’s flag.” I said. I still feel the same way. My Daddy almost died defending the country he loved. He worked hard his entire life to protect the freedom and liberty that he held sacred; he did everything he could possibly do to leave his country better than he found it, as a legacy for the future. I am extremely proud to be able to watch his Grandchildren doing the same.
My kids have never stopped actively working for change - from that rude awakening in November of 2000 when they discovered that Al Gore was not the President Elect, to today. There has not been a week go by without something coming through our shared e-mail that pertained to this work. I have always thought that I was politically active. In the last eight years, I have learned how wrong I was! It takes a lot of time, effort and commitment to nourish a country from the grass-roots up, but it can be done. I have watched it and been as much a part as my energy level would allow. When there was a bill before congress that impacted our lives and concerns, they knew about it. They alerted each other to write Congressional Representatives, and they actually did it - using snail mail, email and their ever present cell phones. I, personally, am still working on my letter of protest regarding the stolen votes in Florida . . . in 2000 . . . it’s at about 200,000 words now, but I’m almost done . . . (((Hi Jena! You are next Martha! :-)))
When the preservation societies, the local Woman’s shelter, the small theaters, the galleries, the libraries needed special help, they would pass the word. Those in the bigger cities joined in rallies and protests, then sent photographs for the rest of us to share. It is amazing. They take pictures with their telephones and many of them can post them to the internet with that same phone. We sometimes see the pictures immediately after they happened. They share ways to shop, buy and live more green. During the time that the opposition tried to make a big deal out of Barack Obama’s middle name, the girls all adopted it as their own middle name and put it into their internet signatures. My favorite was Rachel the Rabbi’s daughter with Hussein tucked in the middle of her seven Jewish names. My eldest child has been very shy her entire life. Her vocation has taught her skills for working with people, and though she is an eloquent professional now, I know that my little girl who was too shy to use the telephone is still in there. Her grandmother and I bought all her Girl Scout cookies because she just could not make herself sell them. She tried. She always tried. This fall I watched her go off dressed to the nines, sporting Obama buttons on both lapels, to knock on doors in the most staunchly Right city in Southern Oregon. One of those places where they think Republicans are left wing radicals. In a parking lot, you hear people discussing your bumper stickers and decide it’s not safe to get in the car. You know? She went to remind people to vote and to ask them to vote for Barack Obama. She had three different women whisper, "I'm voting for Obama, but don't tell my husband!" My daughter went again and again. The day before the election the Democratic Central Committee called to say she had certainly done her duty, but they needed canvassers for that one, last push. There was still a small section of the city that hadn’t been covered. She covered it. She is the bravest person I know. I want to be just like her when I grow up. She is my hero.
It took a while for the girls to find each other when the results were final. One of them was in Mexico. They didn’t find the one in Africa until morning PST - and whatever time it was in Africa. They are all in different cities now, no two in the same place. When they finally all reached each other it was different than they had expected. The feeling was not confetti flying in the air and champagne corks popping. They were quiet, tremendously relieved and deeply glad. Instead of a feeling of wild euphoria, what they felt was awe. They were all aware of the immense milestone in human history they had helped to roll. There was a true feeling that they were witness a kind of miracle. I said to them what my fifth grade teacher said to my class after we watched Dr. Martin Luther King give his, “I have a dream” speech. “You are seeing the future.” And I added, “The Dream comes closer to reality.”
Along with the moments of wonder there was also the feeling that a major battle had been won and now we gear up for the rest of the war. There will still be letters to write, bills to follow, grass-roots to be watered. A key piece of legislation was lost in California; some of my kids were already out protesting the day after the election. This is how it goes. From the grass roots up. Working. Paying attention, staying aware. And, as always, staying connected and supporting each other in everything they do. There is still a long way to go. Unfortunately, bigotry and prejudice did not die on the night of November 4th. But change can and will come if we work for it . . .Tomorrow, once again, my daughters will wake up fighting.
©Edwĭna Peterson Cross
The he 23rd Qualm:
1. Bush is my shepherd; I dwell in want.
2. He maketh logs to be cut down in national forests.
3. He leadeth trucks into the still wilderness.
4. He restoreth my fears.
5. He leadeth me in the paths of international disgrace for his ego's sake.
6. Yea, though I walk through the valley of pollution and war, I will find no exit, for thou art in office.
7. Thy tax cuts for the rich and thy media control, they discomfort me.
8. Thou preparest an agenda of deception in the presence of thy religion.
9. Thou anointest my head with foreign oil. My health insurance runneth out.
10. Surely megalomania and false patriotism shall follow me all the days of thy term,
11. And my jobless child shall dwell in my basement forever.
(I am not actively political . Glad I'm not having any more children.)
BUSH IS NOT MY SHEPHERD
For I made a different decision in the voting booth
I am an American. I have the right of dissent
I AM Actively Political!
Every choice I make, every penny I spend is ‘Political’
I make choices with care and know where my penny is going
I dwell in Ashland, in Jackson County, in Oregon,
Where I actively work each day plying that right
At the grass roots, in the local council seats,
In the county commissions, in the state assembly
I prepareith, even now, in the face of my enemies
For in my country we have a voice
In my country there is a choice
And 2008 will come
And so I fight
I fight every log that falls
I fight for education, the welfare of children and the arts
I fight to stop AIDS, world hunger, violence against women
I fight for peace
I stay aware
I know what is going on
It isn’t easy, it is hard work,
I write to congressmen and senators. I give money. I walk when I can.
My generation of American’s stopped an unjust war
We can save our trees
We can save our arts
We can save our educational system
We can wage peace and better our world
But not by sitting on our assets
Yea, though I walk through the valley of pollution and war, I will try to change it
My children have never known anything but recycling and ecology
My town is prosperous, green and clean
I will actively work everyday toward change
That will allow all of the world to someday be the same
I supportith the politicians who wage peace
Who value humanity, education and the arts
Who seek to save the earth
National, state and local
I seekith them out
I knowith their names
I lickith their envelopes and stuffith their mailings
I supportith my values at the font of their springs
I volunteerith my time, I givith my money, I donate my work,
I have more that is better and costs less
Than most of the world
I enjoy freedoms that to some are unimaginable
I will not bow my head beneath what is wrong
For the system under which I live
Gives me the right to fight
I raiseith up a generation of American’s who care
A large, gifted circle of young men and women
To whom art is life, ecology a byword of existence
And peace something they will never stop seeking
They are the future
Those children you are glad you will not have will be theirs
They will never stop working and fighting to effect any change
That will make the world more beautiful, safe and free for the children
They will bring into it, and all the others
Who dwell on this majestic, spinning, bluegreen spaceship
They are discouraged, they are frightened, but
They are not whiners, takers or slackers
They are fighters
They are politically active and very aware
They do charity work
They volunteer
They send $10.00 to Oxfam and to ‘One’
Because $10.00 is all they have right now
They ply their professions with passion
One day they will have more than $10.00 to give,
And they will still be giving;
Giving of their money, their time, their talents, their souls.
They will dwell in my heart forever
They are Americans
So am I
Proud does not mean arrogant
That is a stereotype
We will not wear
We are angry
We are not complacent
We are the minority
But we have been gifted
With the right
To effect change
And that,
We will
Never
Surrender
©Edwĭna Peterson Cross
Three of my paintings were sold in a silent auction to support the Oregon Shakespeare Festival AIDS Awareness Daedalus Project to the tune of $225+ each. I am very proud of this! For Art to be able to speak for change and assist those in need is a beautiful, beautiful thing.
I adore this photograph. The words were on a T-shirt I bought my daughter when she was about ten. She wore it into tatters. The words go well with the incredible photo.
A line from a song by Jerry Jeff Walker, entitled Django's Lullaby which he wrote for his son, who is just the same age as mine. I have never heard this song, particularly this line, without it bringing tears. For me, it is a constant prayer. I pray for my son, your daughter, every one's child, every where on the earth.
Quite remarkably, I think, the Celtic knot on the lower part of the picture is called a "Taran Cross" which is my son's name - first and last. Sort of amazing.
Make a World That is Safe for My Son
Amen.
Access: Public
What is that old saying? “To harvest peace, plant the seeds of justice.” Nice to read you, Winnie. Hope all is well!
we stand on the shoulders of those that came before us – when something like slavery is considered right by the majority even when it's wrong it takes great courage to stand up against it… some stood up against it. How did they find the courage?
peace, love & joy
I rejoice with you.
Thank you for this wonderful blog.
Samme
Wow!
love you, Winnie!!
hugs and peaches,
Sprite
Thank you my wise friends. Kat, somehow I have never heard your quote before. I've written it on the wall now. Isn't it amazing how eight or ten words can hold so very much truth?
Nightphoenix - yes! I began with Rosa Parks, but there was so much before that; back into the Abolitionist movement, the Underground Railway, the first person who said, “This is wrong,” and had the courage to do something about it. Thank you for your thoughts.
Samme dear - “Rejoice” is such a splendifferous word! It's like joy and then joy again. You and I, we rejoice together about many things! It's a gift.
And Oh, Spritely One, as the fellow in “Ghost” said, “DITTO!”