Archive: New York

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Archive: Somerville

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Archive: Enoversary

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Archive: Theatre

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#Throwback Thursday: 2009

Me 'n my bear in the Peerless at Christmas.

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Cherry Hill, NJ
(Photo: Joe's Aunt Donna)

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Throwback Thursday: 2001

Dec 1, 2001 - Harpers Ferry, Boston MA
(Photo: Terence Burke)

This was the World AIDS Day charity event I'd organized for Trish Baldwin.
What a great night. We raised some money and had some great bands play.
It was about 3 degrees outside.

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This year's Christmas card.

This year's card is a set. The theme: Deranged Elves.
I made nine more of these.
This one saw you when you were sleeping.
Merry Christmas.

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Election Day.
Buffeted by the winds of democracy.
Good luck, 47%. We deserve better. Go vote.
(Photo: Joe Kowalski)

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Drill, Baby, Drill

My conservative friends will be happy to learn that I don't consider the nation's environmental issues, generally speaking, to be a partisan problem. Conserving the environment is on all of us, myself included. We can all do better. If you drive an SUV, it's on you. If you use K-cups, it's on you. If you use a plastic spoon just once to stir a cup of tea and then throw it away, it's on you, too. If you buy bottled drinks, leave lights on when no one is in the room, throw away food that you allowed to go bad in your refrigerator, it's on you too. If you don't recycle, you need to take a closer look at yourself. Waste has taken over by showing up to the party dressed up as convenience. People in the 20th century have become lazy and complacent in trading the future of the planet for convenience. Again, I'm tagging myself here too. I love my Keurig.

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Back In The Saddle

Joe posted on Facebook about how Aerosmith's free street show today is happening right outside our old building. We lived at 1315 Commonwealth in The Peerless. One of the local rock stories is about how the next building over, 1325 Comm, was where Aerosmith lived when they were a local Allston band, too. I didn't walk over to Comm Ave, because I was at work, but I took a screen shot of the live feed while it was happening. I added an arrow so you can see where me 'n Joey would have been today, if we didn't move to Lower Allston two years ago.

You know what would have been funny?
If we still lived at 1315 Comm, but weren't aware of the Aerosmith event.
Imagine waking up to this throng and Steven Tyler's voice outside.

The Peerless (1315 Commonwealth Avenue, Allston MA)

This is a photo of our building from March 2010.
I'd researched and was excited to find out that The Peerless would turn 100 years old in 2011.
 I'd started a private Facebook Group for the Peerless residents,
like a combination "good neighbor" group and "history of the building" thing.
But only one guy joined so I took it down.
Then we moved.
At least I made one new friend.

Related: Peerless Life in Allston Rock City

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Spirit in the South: A True Ghost Story

When my aunt Sharon and her boyfriend Greg pulled up to our house one summer day, my little brother and I became enthralled by the beat-up camper they had hitched to their beat up Volvo. They had quit their jobs, and were relocating from Connecticut to Florida to start a new life. Everything they owned was in that camper. We were mesmerized. That day stands out in my memory, serving as a sort of prequel to what I found out years later, long after Sharon and Greg had moved back up north again. Sharon told us an amazing story. I've told the story before, and I tell it again around this time of year.

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Purple is Universal

Figured I'd wear purple today, too. Velma, I didn't recognize you without your orange turtleneck.

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Keep Talking

Link to the original story:
http://www.jacksonfreepress.com/news/2012/jun/27/christian-rednecks-and-patriots-tea-party-chat/

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Mmph. 'mornin. You people are exhausting.

Not today, motherfucker.

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Archive: Blogging

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Mitt Romney: Commando in Chief

The blog is called "It Makes Sense," but I've read this paragraph sixteen times, and have yet to make any sense of it whatsoever.

"Conservatism is a political and social philosophy that promotes the maintenance of traditional institutions and opposes rapid change in society. Conservatism is not so much a philosophy as an attitude, a constant force, performing a timeless function in the development of a free society, and corresponding to a deep and permanent requirement of human nature itself. It is the persistent image of society as a command structure in which the responsibilities of leadership can be exercised within the framework of a strong state manifested in divine right."
(Mission statement over at It Makes Sense Blog.)

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Archive: Shopping

2003

Fuzzbusting

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Self Portrait

#selfie + PaintShop Pro

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Where Is The Outrage?

In sixth grade, Mrs. Signori asked us to define "freedom." What does it mean to be "a free country."  

"Yes, Suzanne?" Suzanne Bronsard lived across from my grandparents. We saw each other after school, but weren't what you'd call "friends." I liked her. "Um?" Suzanne started. "It means we could do what we want? Um...when we want?" Hm, I thought. That sounds dangerous.

No matter who you are, where you grew up or what lessons stuck with you from what age, your idea of "freedom" has been shaped by untold influences. When and how do we learn the concept of freedom, or any other tenet of the social contract for that matter, is lost to us in later years. I dearly wish this were not the case, because I would do anything to go back in time and observe myself learning what is freedom. And why not, since we're time-traveling, observe myself learning all of the trickier of life's lessons that all add up to who you are as a person, each new learned thing one more fiber of your moral code. When did we learn how to share? Can you pinpoint the day that you first understood honesty? What does it mean to be grateful? Is there such a thing as a selfless act?If I could remember these watershed life lessons, maybe they would be easier to pass forward to the kids.

Back in sixth grade, Mrs. Signori introduced us to Martin Luther King. We had our Saturday morning Schoolhouse Rocks. We got graded on our ability to memorize key historical dates. We scribbled out homework essays and in class we gave stilted, index-card-laden presentations on the Boston Tea Party, on President Lincoln abolishing slavery, Rosa Parks taking a stand by keeping her seat. We were also sold a bill of goods known as "freedom of religion" that might, depending on who you are, just might be the very first thing to later turn us into cynical as teenagers. When we first realize that religious freedom exists as a concept. It's not real. You can't have religion and freedom and politics. It doesn't work. 

Politics and Religion

Back in sixth grade, we never did learn how it's even possible, let alone tolerated, to wield one's "freedom of religion" as a weapon aimed at abolishing another person's same religious freedom. That is to say, abolishing another person's freedom to practice religion or not! Elected officials dictating policy based on privately held religious beliefs is an outrage. The instant anyone with a microphone and a bid for public office starts to crow about "it says in the bible," that should warrant an automatic disqualification for the job. It's one thing to have strong personal beliefs as a private citizen, but to force your own religion upon the public sector when you are in a position of power should be considered abuse of that power. The hypocrisy is downright unlawful.

Valarie Hodges. This too-outrageous-for-satire state representative from Louisiana was at the center of my absolute most-favoritest-ever news story of the summer. I wish that this story had gotten a lot more attention than it did, because it was delicious. It was like an after-school special about bigots. It was like the last ten minutes of Dirty Dancing.

Here's what happened. In the late spring of 2012, Louisiana Governor Bobby Jindal pushed for a taxpayer-funded voucher program that would benefit schools. "HB976, now signed into law as Act 2, proposed, among other things, a voucher program allowing state educational funds to be used to send students to schools run by religious groups," reported the Livingston Parish News. Act 2 was passed in June, largely due to the enthusiastic support of Valarie Hodges. Other state reps, also Republicans like Hodges, opposed the program, citing that public school funds should stay with the public schools, not be given to any religious schools.

I agree with those Republicans. They were absolutely right. Use taxpayer money to make the public schools awesome, please, but if a school is geared towards a certain religion, then that school is private. No taxpayer funding. The conservatives fighting against funding private schools correctly identified Act 2 as mis-use of taxpayer-funded education.

But Valarie won, the other conservatives lost and I'm sorry, it was a good fight. Act 2 was signed into law by majority vote, among those cheering its victory, of course, Mizzuz Hodges. But soft! Soon after Act 2 was passed, someone apparently must have taken Valarie aside and informed her that there are, um, other religions. You see, a Muslim school applied for the program, and she flipped out. Honestly, I wish I could have seen her face. The state rep who had waved the flag hardest for state funding religious schools immediately launched a furious reversal campaign, a whole raft of inane blather that essentially amounted to: I thought 'religion' only meant "Christian." A grown woman is so under-educated and narrow-minded that she hears the word "religion" and never even considers for a split second that it doesn't always mean her personal religion. To think nothing of voting bills into law, specifically to allocate taxpayer money to further her own private, right-wing extremist something-something-Christian agenda. How do you live with yourself as a public official to think it's right to vote in favor of religious freedom and then renege when you're informed that it doesn't only apply to you? Seriously? Where is the outrage? A gasp of incredulity should have swept the nation in the face of such discrimination from Valarie Hodges. This was another blatant, in the bright light-of-day and quotable, provable bigoted slap-in-the-Constitution from yet another so-called patriotic "conservative."

I have a question. Where the hell are all the normal, nice, educated Christians? They God squad haven't all gone full-tilt crazy, have they? Get in touch. I just want to talk.∎

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Capital Vices / Cardinal Sins

"You know, I think it's about envy. I think it's about class warfare." (Mitt Romney, The Today Show, January 2012)

"Of course there are exemptions for those who make money from capital gains, which is legal....so vote for someone to change the laws...each person, rich, middle class and poor look for all of the exemptions and tax loop holes that they can find. If not for those spending money, our economy would be crashing more...stop the class war fare and the envy that is being broadcast by the O supporters." (Another informative Facebook rant from the right)

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The Intrepid Arrogance of "I Don't Believe It"

So you're chatting with your favorite conservative friend. You present a fact-based, well-researched position. That's when they pull out the "I don't believe it" card. You guys. I am so sick of it I can't even. Not only is "I don't believe it"  a conversation-stopper,  doesn't it kinda sound like your friend will gladly re-engage in an adult conversation, if only you could provide some facts? Oh, would that it were so! But this is not our reality.

Personal "belief" in any social, historic or scientific fact has become the conservative voter's staunch position on so many vitally important things that I'm afraid we're freefalling down the rabbit hole here. You don't "believe in" the dangers of fracking, offshore drilling, global warming, the existence of gender-based pay inequality, the realities of sexual crimes, the gross unfairness in tax law, lack of affordable housing, the need to make good health care available to everyone...well...what DO you believe in? That these things are even up for debate is astonishing. There's...data. There are experts in the subject matter. We don't care what you "believe."

Could We Bring Back Experts, Please?

Here's an example of this craziness. This happened in June of this year. Do you know who Pavar Snipe is? I guess she's a blogger of sorts. I can't claim to know a single thing about her, only that it seems every story she covers is pointless drivel that has zero impact on anyone's life. Right now, for example Pavar is arguing online about whether or not Halle Barry was legally married to her last boyfriend. Who. Gives a shit. But, as the saying goes, even a broken clock is right twice a day, and this image posted by Pavar Snipe hit me pretty hard. It's a garage door that someone spray-painted "Foreclosed! 3 tours in Iraq but no bailout for people like me."

Before blogging about it, I'd really hoped to find out more, such as whose garage is this and what was the back story? All we were able to learn was that this home is somewhere in West Virgina. This image is awful. You risk your life defending the country and you're just left twisting in the wind while your lawmakers argue about my vagina? What universe is this? No one who went to war should lose their house, end of story. The GI Bill should be enhanced and expanded, not gutted, which will almost certainly happen if things go terribly wrong in November. So I shared and posted on Facebook in response to this image: "When will it end?" With a quickness one of my conservative friends replied, and I quote.

"In November. 

It's not going to happen 

under Obama!"

What. It's not going to happen under Obama? You know what? You're a nice lady. But you must be inserting your over-processed blonde head directly up the ass of Fox News in order to say something this stupid. Surely it's the pinnacle of ignorance, is it not? It should be noted that, during the RNC speeches last week, this same Obama-hating person watched Paul Ryan's speech and posted "that was so inspirational!" Inspirational? Paul Ryan is certifiable. That is a dangerous man. 

JOBS: The Actual Facts

What about the alarming evidence every day in the news proving that the Republicans have been systematically voting down every single jobs bill that would deliver literally millions of jobs opportunities? Blocked, every one of them. Not because the jobs bills weren't good. Just because. They have no agenda, what do you think is supposed to happen in November? What exactly? Here's the gentleman from Kentucky, Senator McConnell speaking in December 2010 to explain.

"Over the past week, some have said it was indelicate of me to suggest that our top political priority over the next two years should be to deny President Obama a second term. But the fact is, if our primary goals are to repeal and replace the health spending bill, to end the bail outs, cut spending, and shrink the size and scope of government, the only way to do all of those things is to put someone in the white house who won't veto any of these things."

Sure enough, in June, yet another bill was voted down, this time it was a comprehensive act called the "Pay Equity" bill. This one was really good. The Pay Equity bill seeks to prevent a corporation from immediately firing any woman who goes to her boss and says "Hey, I just found out that (male colleague at same pay grade) makes more than I do, that's not fair." What's worse than coming back with "I don't believe it" is that, in this case, the Senate Republicans DO say that they believe that women are being fired for asking for equal pay, but apparently that's irrelevant. The Pay Equity bill was also blocked, so the Republicans basically said, "You'll get less pay and you'll shut up about, honey. Now go make some coffee."

“It is incredibly disappointing that in this make-or-break moment for the middle class, Senate Republicans put partisan politics ahead of American women and their families.” (Barack Obama, New York Times, June 6, 2012)

A month later in July, yet another jobs bill was voted down, this time it was the "Bring Home Jobs" bill. Voting down the Bring Home Jobs bill was a huge slap in the face to American workers, especially those whose jobs have been disrupted by advances in technology and automation. The Bring Home Jobs bill had one goal, and that was to curtail this damaging outsourcing of jobs to China and India and other places where labor costs corporations mere pennies. If your job went to another country, that's because your company didn't want to pay you anymore, because a guy over there will do it so much cheaper and the shareholders now get to see their portfolios grow. Is that what you're voting for? Congratulations, you're voting against your own livelihood. So much for putting America back to work. The Bring Home Jobs bill would have amended the tax code in this way:

(1) grant business taxpayers a tax credit for up to 20% of insourcing expenses incurred for eliminating a business located outside the United States and relocating it within the United States, and

(2) deny a tax deduction for outsourcing expenses incurred in relocating a U.S. business outside the United States. Requires an increase in the taxpayer's employment of full-time employees in the United States in order to claim the tax credit for insourcing expenses.

That's just two jobs bills that Republicans blocked. Your heroes. All told, seventeen job bills from the original Obama "American Jobs Act" were blocked by Republicans, not for any reason or debated against with any alternative plan—just blocked. It's deplorable. It's obstructionist.

By the way, the entire Jobs Act is available online for anyone and everyone to read, and I suggest that you spend some time doing that, and watching the videos, so that you can learn a thing or two before you cast your lot with these people who seek to destroy the American Dream. Believe it or not, babe. Had your "inspirational" clown not helped deliberately sabotage our President's efforts, there WOULD be two million more jobs right now.

"More Americans are realizing that Republicans have worked for several years to undermine the president in every way possible. Americans believe that it requires a complete lack of patriotism to take such actions during a massive economic collapse. They are beginning to ask, 'Who in their right mind would block any job creating plan to bring us out of this crisis because they want power?'" (PolicyMic.com, August 1, 2012)

Who in their right mind indeed? Then there's the open letter that my old mayor, Joe Curtatone, posted to voters on Friday August 31st. In part,

"Now they've got Mitt Romney standing up in front of the nation, rehashing his snake oil line about the millions of jobs he'll create, when Congressional Republicans took a pass on actually creating jobs. They know he's full of it. Anyone who lived in Massachusetts when Romney was Governor knows he's full of it. What he's proposing is a return to a set of failed policies." (Mayor Joe Curtatone, August 31, 2012)

I've been maintaining an online journal of some kind since 1999, and above all I've always sought to be honest, and I have to say that I'm officially depressed. It's getting to be an Herculean effort just to get up in the morning anymore, and every day I feel more tired, more worn down from this kind of blind partisanship. I just can't even, anymore. Your guys blocked the initiatives to create two million jobs, not my guys. Your guys are pissing on your head and telling you it's a champagne fountain. To say "Obama failed to create two million jobs he promised" is to reach for a crystal fluted glass and drink up. All that's left is to pull the lever, and "in November" we can only pray that truth and policy prevail over lies and ignorance. ∎

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Republicans Are Lying To You About Jobs And Also Literally Everything Else

Former Republican congressional staff member Mike Lofgren wrote a truly brilliant piece that should be taught in schools when our democracy has been totally and completely obliterated by our wealthiest citizens, only it won't be because after they're done destroying jobs, they'll be coming after free press, national parks and public land, and then, education. History, as they say, is written by the victors. If we don't do something now, we're at risk for knocking out the very pillars of democracy in America. In this piece, Mike Lofgren points up the bought-and-paid for corruption on both sides of the aisle, but mostly Republicans. Without devolving into groundless generalizations or vulgar name-calling, Lofgren calmly explains how we got here. Required reading, y'all. It's now or never.
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It Only Hurts When I Lofgren

In "Revolt of the Rich" (The American Conservative) Mike Lofgren recalls an early-1990s incident back when the American corporations were really starting to get into shipping American jobs off to other countries. He writes about successful businessman Erik Prince.

"Erik Prince, who was born into a fortune, is related to the even bigger Amway fortune, and made yet another fortune as CEO of the mercenary-for-hire firm Blackwater, moved his company (renamed Xe) to the United Arab Emirates in 2011. What I mean by secession is a withdrawal into enclaves, an internal immigration, whereby the rich disconnect themselves from the civic life of the nation and from any concern about its well being except as a place to extract loot." (Mike Lofgren, The American Conservative, August 27, 2012)

Then there's billionaire Stephen  Schwarzman. You might have caught the news on this guy, he's the hedge fund exec who threw himself a five million dollar birthday party.

"While there is plenty to criticize the incumbent president for, notably his broadening and deepening of President George W. Bush’s extra-constitutional surveillance state, under President Obama the overall federal tax burden has not been raised, it has been lowered. Approximately half the deficit impact of the stimulus bill was the result of tax-cut provisions. The temporary payroll-tax cut and other miscellaneous tax-cut provisions make up the rest of the cuts we have seen in the last three and a half years. Yet for the president’s heresy of advocating that billionaires who receive the bulk of their income from capital gains should pay taxes at the same rate as the rest of us, Schwarzman said this about Obama: “It’s a war. It’s like when Hitler invaded Poland in 1939.”  For a hedge-fund billionaire to defend his extraordinary tax privileges vis-à-vis the rest of the citizenry in such a manner shows an extraordinary capacity to be out-of-touch. He lives in a world apart, psychologically as well as in the flesh." (Mike Lofgren, The American Conservative, August 27 2012)

But perhaps the most insightful passage of Lofgren's article was an anecdote about the CEO of Goldman Sachs and Citigroup. That's a fellow by the name of Robert Rubin. The story goes that Mr. Rubin was attending an event -- unspecified but the implication was it was a political event. His chauffeured limo hit Manhattan traffic, and he arrived late. When he got to the event, he complained to "a city functionary with the power to look into it." The functionary asked where was the traffic jam? Even though Robert Rubin lived in Manhattan most of his life, he didn't know enough about the city to answer.

"Our plutocracy now lives like the British in colonial India: in the place and ruling it, but not of it. If one can afford private security, public safety is of no concern; if one owns a Gulfstream jet, crumbling bridges cause less apprehension—and viable public transportation doesn’t even show up on the radar screen. With private doctors on call and a chartered plane to get to the Mayo Clinic, why worry about Medicare?" (Mike Lofgren, The American Conservative, August 27, 2012)

"Obama Promised Jobs!"

President Obama officially released the American Jobs Act in September 2011. Part 3, Subtitle E is titled "Immediate Transportation Infrastructure Investments." "Infrastructure" means sweeping repairs to our nation's crumbling bridges, fixing roads and building reliable, viable public transportation. These are things that, if fixed, would put millions of construction workers back on the job and also shore up our country. Unlike some of the other, more gnarly issues with a lot of moral gray area—such as abortion, I am aware that's a tough one for many—on the "infrastructure" issue there is no requirement for the "I don't believe it" conservatives to cede any moral ground or make any leaps of faith. It's all right here, in great detail. He's got a plan and this bill would put it into motion. The actual Obama jobs bill is right here. The President's plea to set aside partisan politics is right here.

"This is the bill that Congress needs to pass," the president said. "No games. No politics. No delays." (Barack Obama, Huffington Post, Sept 12 2011)

The Republican vote opposing 17 jobs bills is a shock. Jobs is one of their platform pillars, and yet, they would seek to have you believe that high unemployment is Obama's fault while literally voting against every effort to turn it around. There is video of Republican Senator Mitch McConnell saying, proudly even, that the only goal for Republicans is to get Obama out. They're not even trying to pretend anymore, they're simply obstructing everything that Barack Obama says or does, regardless of the monumental benefit to the American people. And yet, my conservative friends remain stalwart, "in support" of the twisted, sick Republican agenda. They don't even see that the Republicans have no agenda other than a systematic dismantling of democracy. My conservative friends can't seem to see that they're holding the rope that the hangmen are tying round our necks, while at the same time blaming gravity for the inevitable end result.∎

This person is your enemy, America. He hates you.

Related: 
Life in the Lower 99
Gosh Darn, Still No Growth?

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Cah Wahz: Tales From a Boston Driver

Visitors marvel at how often we talk about traffic. The fact is, navigating in and around Boston takes a special kind of grit, and way more than a puny map. Boston sucks the joy out of car ownership. Making it home at a reasonable hour is an accomplishment, and yeah, we wanna talk about it. Don't be mad. Imagine the entire Dunks-torqued citizenry collectively compiling a series. How I Survived My Commute Today, Nobody In History Has Ever Parked A Car Anywhere Near Harvard Yard, Asshole and other titles, all of which are generally quite rude. Maybe "just pave over those cow paths" wasn't the best strategy for city planning.

September is where you earn it

Trucks and SUVs overloaded with students and their stunned kin. Jesus take the wheel. Those people will sooner sprout wings and take flight before they get where they're going on the first (or 10th) try. Prepare to observe synchro birdfinger horn feuds all up Comm Ave and Harvard Square forget about Allston Rock City as residents and interlopers clash. Tripled parked U-hauls and Ryders,  traffic circles become parking lots, and regular reports of the day's Storrowing. Try to remember a time in September when a truck didn't get stuck under a  bridge on Storrow.

 

You Can't Get There From Anywhere

My personal story goes like this: My then-boyfriend and I moved to Boston in the early 90s after college. Flummoxed by the seemingly inexplicable one way streets, traffic circles, scant signs and dead ends, we mounted a self-imposed seminar on Getting Around Boston. We would get our maps (which is a very old-school way to start a sentence) and set up destination-based challenges. We'd simulate the gauntlet for a variety of trips. These were practical recon excursions. "OK," we'd say. "Right now we are at home (Inman Square in Somerville). How do we get to the Prudential Center."  And so forth. Our skills would be put to the test in the real world, but only at quiet times. During the day it's too chaotic. So we'd wake pre-dawn, and get out there when the only other cars on the road are bread trucks and cabs.


"Is this Comm Ave? I think this is Mass Ave! Wait, was that our right turn? You can only go left here, WHAT THE F....?" One night I swear I turned right at three Dunkin Donuts' in a row and ended up at the corner of Tremont and Tremont.

"There's Big Ben, kids! Parliament!"

 Do you know they change the name of the road you're on sometimes here? Sometimes it changes back after a few miles. 

Did you know that it's possible to have a dead-end, one-way street? Nod to Steven Wright...and no wonder...he lives here.

Did you know that the compass points -- North, South, East and West -- can exist in some sort of hazy in-between space like those random thoughts you have when you're half awake or half asleep and don't know what day it even is?

Death grip on the wheel at 10 & 2. One way streets, traffic circles, dead ends. Blink, and you miss a vitally important sign the size of a greeting card, and now you have to drive out to the airport in order to get back to downtown.

Lest you think, oh, but that was before GPS technology got really good. Sure. It's a theory. Try it out. Have fun!

Parking Wars

There's also the problem of parking. Even if you reach your destination, my friend, you still have to park. The question, "where did you park?" never even comes up in other places, but here that's an ice breaker. Some years ago, I wrote a poem about giving up and just going home. 

Ode to Star Market

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It's A God Thing

"God gives us our rights, not government." 
-Janine Turner, actress, Tuesday August 28, 2012, addressing the RNC

My initial reaction to some second-rate actress making such an outrageous declaration was, "Oh for the love of fuck. The chick from Northern Exposure? Seriously?" As is our wont these days, that's just what I posted on Facebook.

An old friend and staunch conservative from small-town Connecticut replied to my post with this gem:

"that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights" -Thomas Jefferson (just saying) :)

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Pissed off before the first cup of coffee is done

You should be, too.
Fuck these people.

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Chowing Chicken Is A Vote For Family Values?

"I hope (chicken place) will make gazillions of dollars. This is a still free country and people will vote with their money."

(August 2, 2012, Facebook, Author Withheld)

I will never craft a response to the "chicken thing" that could surpass the wisdom and clarity of Wayne Self's July 30th essay in his "Self's Fulfilling Prophecies" blog. [Update: blog change]. Like Mr. Self, I too acknowledge the absurdity of this debate, and chances are that if you are like me, you want to roll your eyes so hard you risk injury. It's so stupid. You've read all the papers and the blogs, you've watched the news coverage, you've gaped at the oh-so-clever chicken-themed Facebook memes. You've spent days debating whether or not to place any long-view importance on this, or attempt to vocalize what it could all mean for society. You've asked yourself where will the chicken thing (no, I'm not going to use the company's name) land in the history books? How will it rate? As a mere footnote? Or will it show up at all.

Or will it occupy the same historical spotlight, however insignificant those living through it might have deemed it, as the East India Company tea that ended up in the harbor just a few miles from where I sit right now?

You Know It Was Never About Tea

Would those two hundred or so participants in the Boston Tea Party be astonished to know that history finds their surge of dauntless action standing as a watershed moment in the birth of a nation?

It's just tea!

I know, right!? 

Well, chances are that if you are like me, all of those reactions went through your head at once. It's just chicken! I know, right!? But hold on...

And You Know It's Not About Chicken

"I hope (chicken place) will make gazillions of dollars. This is a still free country and people will vote with their money." (August 2, 2012, Facebook, Author Withheld)

So, let me see if I understand this, Chicken Guy. You heard a story saying that the guy who owns the place where you get your lunch wants to criminalize homosexuality. Criminalize, as in, align American tolerance with the 75 countries in the world where a gay person can be imprisoned or put to death.
You heard that, and you said, "Let's go participate in that! I want chicken!"

No? That's not what you did? Oh, you wanted to show that this is a 'free country," I see. So you're claiming that it's because of...not in spite of...your devout patriotism that you are eager to support the platform supported by that guy who owns the place where you get your lunch. Because in a free country he can do whatever he wants with his money.

You know what, love? You're right. No one is taking that away from you. That guy who owns the place where you get your lunch can absolutely donate five million dollars to the Family Research Council and the Marriage & Family Foundation. These are organizations that work tirelessly to fund the platform that same-sex behavior is wrong, and should be abolished and even criminalized. He can. It isn't illegal.

Heck, Chicken Guy, your chicken friend can get on TV and announce a new organization that will seek to unravel every equal right since the 14th Amendment. You know that one. That's the "due process" one. That's the one with the pesky "No person could be denied equal protection of the laws" one. Boy, do your conservatives get all aflutter whenever that one is brought up. Equal protection! Due process! For black guys? Oh no! But whew, at least it says guys, not women...wait, they fixed that in the 19th Amendment! In 1920. Oh yes, did you forget that part? That until 1920 not all of the "constitutionally protected privileges of citizenship" outlined in the 14th Amendment extended to women? That guy who owns the place where you get your lunch can absolutely donate five million dollars to unravel all of that. Reverse the Reconstruction! THAT could be what he CALLS it! The "Reverse the Reconstruction Research Council." Make it ten million, all from profits made from your lunch. For Family Values! Think of the Children!

Yes, he has every right. Every right. His right. But you didn't have to condone his opinion. You had the right to say "I agree" or "I disagree," and when the choice was presented to you, what you chose to do with your right was to stand with intolerance.

To wave the "it's a free country" flag in this instance is insulting.

You know this is not about chicken. You didn't eat chicken to promote "free speech." You ate chicken to throw your support behind the effort to abolish another group's freedom, in this case it's the LGBT community. Who'll it be next time?

Wise Up, Chicken Bigot

It's 2012. It's frankly astonishing that we're still having these kinds of debates. We have the whole of history at our fingertips to learn from; enter any search term into any search engine using any browser and you have access to great, important writings in which people just like you, just like me, have engaged in just this kind of discourse. We are greeted with...no, saturated with information every single day, and we are completely free to read every word ever written on any topic. It is easier than it has ever been since the dawn of time to become well-read in world history. You don't even have to leave your house. What does it mean that there are people who choose to remain this ignorant in this time and place, where "information" is infinitely available to every American, at no charge, any time of the day or night. "Information" should be our most valuable currency. With it we can look and learn exactly what happened at many, many points in history the world over where a "few" insisted upon abolishing the freedoms of "the many."

Just how did that work out for the oppressors?

And isn't there a bitter irony in this country regarding how the continued mission of hate groups campaigning to spread and promote their message -- the only way they could stage such demonstrations in the first place is because, as you say, it's a "free country."

But when the content of that "free speech" has one intent, one intent only, and that is to spread hatred and promote inequality, in effect eliminate freedom for a specially-targeted group, I'm sorry but all bets are off. The "free country" thing either goes both ways, or not at all.

How many more times does the revolution need to be fought before "ignorance" will no longer be accepted anymore as "policy?"

On how many fronts do the real patriots need to fight for acceptance before the entire nation finally, at last, becomes enlightened?

Chicken guy, are you truly unable to look back at history's revolutionaries in this and other countries, and declare that you have learned nothing? Just by supporting the effort to keep your neighbor from enjoying the same rights as you, you should lose the right to wave that "freedom" flag.

What you're doing is not promoting free speech.

It is discrimination.

And you are emphasizing your position with every crispy bite.

If that's your position, enjoy your lunch. You have every right, and I will go off in the other direction away from you and help fight for you to keep those rights. Enjoy them, and you're welcome.∎

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Life in the Lower 99

"So many of my friends post about how they feel about the present economy. I wonder how they would feel if, in the future, they were one of the fortunate ones who was earning a lot more money. Would you still be angry with them for having more than you? Would you still think they should pay more than they are now? Would you still think your money should support those who don't have, because they aren't ambitious as you?" (August 24th, Author Withheld)

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Dear White Christian Lawmaker: How Are You Getting Away With It?

Dear White Christian Lawmaker,

I just don't understand how you're getting away with it. Has the nation gone so numb at this point that no one is willing to stop you? Have people forgotten that as state leaders you are not endowed with any sort of divine status? Put simply, you aren't actually allowed to legislate based on your personal religious beliefs, signing bills into law based on nothing but scripture. Not any more.

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Little Baby Face: One in Ten Thousand Microtia Babies

These things are good:

ice cream and cake
a ride on a Harley
seeing monkeys in the trees
the rain on my tongue
and the sun shining on my face

These things are a drag:
dust in my hair
holes in my shoes
no money in my pocket
and the sun shining on my face

           * Roy Lee "Rocky" Dennis
          (December 4, 1961 – October 4, 1978)

Though people asked the question with varying degrees of directness based on age, familiarity and tact, at its core it was always the same question: what's wrong with her? For many years I let my mother answer, and then later when I grew more self-assured I would handle these inquiries myself. At first I would reply echoing the same words my mother had always used in her explanation, after all I had heard her say it a thousand times. "Michelle was born with one ear. The doctors are fixing it."
I have a clear memory from about age four or so, of being taken to a different doctor. Not small, gentle Dr. Tiger, our smiley pediatrician. I remember sitting on the crinkly paper-covered examining table in this new doctor's office. There were no toys in this waiting room. No stuffed tigers. I was worried there would be no lollipop after he was finished. What was he doing, anyway? I stayed as still as I could while in his brusque growl this new, bigger doctor asked me to gently bite down on a big Popsicle stick. I did so, feeling his warm, steady breath on my face and trying not to look at the icky fuzzy hairs on his ears. I was good at letters, and as I stared at the tie clip worn by this new scary doctor that wasn't Dr. Tiger, I wondered why it said "IMP." Imp? I remembered Maureen Rice, in my grade at school. She had a green sweater that said "MAR" in squiggly white yarn across the collar. I asked her once and she told me it was her initials. IMP. I  guessed the "P" was for "Polayes," a funny name, which I had heard my mother say. I shifted my gaze downwards as this doctor palpated my jaw and cheeks, peering past my nose down at the stick resting between my teeth. I wondered what the "I" and the "M" stood for...the stick should have been level, but it was slanting crazily left to right.

I looked around, but only with my eyes as the new doctor held my face still, my chin between his fingers. I was still biting the stick. Does that piece of paper on the wall say maxillo...fac..ial surg..eon? I listened intently as he talked to my mother, making angular motions around my head with his hand as he said complicated, alien-sounding words. Dr. Polayes seemed like an alien himself, with his enormous squarish bald head and smelling of something faintly antiseptic and acrid. Not that I knew the words "antiseptic" or "acrid" yet. I would learn them later, along with a plethora of other words, including the ones he was saying. Because those were the words that named my condition.

I was born with Grade 3 unilateral Microtia and Hemifacial Microsomia. My mother still couldn't tell you that. Details aren't her thing, when it comes to me. I stopped minding decades ago. What my mother accomplished in her life is astonishing when you consider that she got pregnant at sixteen and had not even finished high school, but whether or not she ever completely understood what my birth defect really was, I don't know. She was so young. She was smart, but not book-smart, with limited reading and language skills. She wasn't able to read or pronounce even the cough syrup label that my pediatrician gave me for my cough, I doubt that she was able to understand beyond the basics of my condition. I instinctively knew this even very young, and I studied that cough syrup label until I could say all of the words without stumbling. I had this idea that understanding was important. I wanted to understand everything. Details were my thing.

Microtia is a congenital defect of the ears, affecting about 1 in 10,000 babies. With Microtia, one or both ears are either missing entirely or are under-formed so all that's there is a protrusion of lobular tissue. Microtia is more common in boys, and more commonly it's the right ear that's affected, and often there's associated Atresia. Atresia is when there is no ear canal. Obviously I am not a boy, and it's my left ear that was affected, and there is no atresia - meaning I do have an ear canal on the left.


Microtia, though it can occur by itself, usually manifests along with other deformities, the most serious and saddest being Treacher Collins syndrome. Some of you might remember the big news story and Discovery documentary some years back about "the girl born without a face." Little Juliana Wetmore was definitely one of the most severe cases of Treacher Collins ever recorded. Treacher is a genetic defect causing under-formed bones in the face and head. Juliana was born with few bones in her face. Without eye sockets, a jaw or cheekbones she needed massive reconstructive surgeries just to stay alive. Treacher Collins is a cruel condition. There is no developmental problem in heart, lung or brain function. Only the face. Juliana is otherwise a perfectly normal child in every way.

When I was born my case of Microtia manifested along with Hemifacial Microsomia, which is a deformity in the lower face. Hemifacial Microsomia is similar to Treacher Collins syndrome, and it has just as wide a spectrum of severity. In terms of severity, I was lucky. Dr. Polayes' Popsicle stick test could have gone worse. I was crooked, but not so malformed that strangers' heads turned on the street. Most people, at a casual glance, never even noticed anything amiss. But if you stuck around awhile you'd notice something funny. Especially when I talked and my mouth went all askew. My first grade crush, Paul, said it best one day when he stared at me for a few minutes intently, then used his fingers to tug at his cheek and said, "How come...?" He trailed off. Didn't even know what question to ask. Just "How come?"

As you can imagine, I did not talk much. When I did, I mumbled, head down, not looking at the cutest boy in class who had finally spoken to me. "I was born with one ear. The doctors are fixing it." People like to debate each other about the effects of bullying. Kids bully the ones that look weird, gang up on the weak. Yes, that happened to me. But if I'm honest, it was the adults that made me feel worse about myself. The questions, the accusations. Once a woman stopped me to ask me if I had been in a car accident. Once I had an adult ask if my mother had taken drugs while she was pregnant with me. Kids were cruel, sure, but when you're a child getting teased by another child, that's one thing. Getting scrutinized and interrogated by an adult is quite another. In short: people suck.

The reconstructive surgery process meant a lot of time in the hospital. I have very early memories of being so afraid, so alone in the hospital, and missing my mother so much that I had nightmares. In one awful repeating nightmare -- and God alone knows where I even got this imagery to draw upon -- my mother was being held back from getting to me by big, strong soldiers, and I was being held back from getting to HER too, and in the dream I was wearing my new yellow quilted bathrobe and slippers.While they held us apart, a firing squad shot and killed her and I would wake up crying. 

There was a lot of crying, not just from missing my mom but because I didn't understand why this was only happening to me? My classmates were pretty. My little brother was cute. Everyone liked him. I was funny-looking and no one liked me.

But as I spent more time hospitalized, eventually I lost the fear and the nightmares stopped. In fact I became something of a little shit, arriving on the children's ward at that big hospital in New Haven, CT. Impatiently waiting through the boring admitting process (mom answering endless questions, and filling out forms, so many forms!) then getting to my room and setting up my books and crayons. I would go around to all the rooms meeting all the kids, offering games and activities. I knew my way around that place better than I knew my way around my school. At school I was weird and awkward and the kids would stare at my bandages. Here, everybody had bandages. At home nobody listened to me. Here when an adult asked me a question, they waited for my answer. They really wanted to know. I knew where every game and book was in the playroom, I knew when they changed the big mural on the wall to a new zoo scene, I knew how to do all of the craft activities (it was the 70s, we were the ashtray and macaroni-necklace generation). I knew where the juices were kept, and the nurses let me shuffle down the hall in my yellow robe and slippers to bring back little plastic cups of juice for myself and my friends -- I could even peel off the top without spilling. More often than not the staff had to find me first, and all my memories of having my blood drawn or my vital signs taken are not in my hospital bed, but at the playroom crafts table or down the hall where I could often be found reading stories to the smaller kids. 

Whenever Dr. Polayes was expected on the ward, there would be a big to-do, nurses rushing in to collect me and brush back my hair, and settle me back in bed so he could check the healing going on beneath my bandages. He did not say much directly to me, but he gave the nurses short, important-sounding orders in his gravelly voice. I began to understand that Dr. Polayes was an important man. Only years later did I realize that he was a leader in the field of plastic and reconstructive surgery and that I was an extremely fortunate little girl. As my respect for Dr. Polayes grew over the years, I found it humorous that he had looked so big and scary at first. He wasn't so enormous after all, not in stature. In stature he was just a regular man. But he would make an enormous impact on my life. 

I was in the hospital so much that the nurses and volunteers were people that I knew, who knew me, and we were happy to see each other again. To this day I cannot help but feel safe and cared-for whenever I find myself in a hospital bed  -- not at all nervous or worried like most people would be, but rather safe and warm. Those childhood memories are hard-wired, I never lost the warm fuzzies of the many sweet nurses, kind doctors and bubbly volunteers playing with me, reading to me, making puzzles with me, pushing my wheelchair around, brushing my long wavy hair, telling me I was pretty. To this day I see a set of scrubs coming into the room with a smile and a friendly voice saying 'How you feeling, honey?' and I still feel those warm fuzzies.

They were changing my face, but at the same time they also changed my personality. I'd been sad and quiet and lonely, but I learned how to socialize on the pediatrics ward. Sometimes there were even other kids there who looked like me! It never occurred to me that Dr. Polayes might have done that on purpose, schedule another of his Microtia kids to be there at the same time so that I would see that I wasn't the only one. The first time this happened, he personally introduced me to Laurie. I was only eight, and had this been the playground there was no way this beautiful, glamorous girl would have ever talked to squat, weird little me. He told me Laurie was thirteen and I was stunned when she tossed back her long black hair to show me her ear. Just like me! I had thought I was the only one. Dr. Polayes was a lot further along on her ear, and she told me all about it. I have a memory of Laurie lifting me up to put me back into my bed after I got up to use the bathroom; I never crossed paths with Laurie again, but I'll never forget the day that I found out I was not the only person "born with one ear, the doctors are fixing it."

The surgeries. Well, they varied from one-day quick procedures to ten-hours of invasive and dangerous work that took weeks to heal. Bone grafts, skin grafts. Doctor Polayes and his team were mining other parts of my body for the supplies to build a left ear. I have scars everywhere. One of the more painful surgeries and longest recoveries was the first time they took some rib, making an incision that would cleverly be hidden years later when my breasts grew. Pretty smart.

At the time I was unaware of what all this cost, little kids don't have a grasp of family finances. That's why they want ponies and fire trucks. But I did hear my mother talking about something called "Title 19." Later in life I researched, found that Title 19 was a Medicaid program. In Connecticut, Medicaid is administered by the Department of Social Services. It was financed by joint funds from the state and the federal government, and in order to qualify for this benefit, you had to meet strict eligibility requirements based on need. I was the fatherless offspring of an unemployed high-school dropout from a poor family. We qualified.

I would only wonder later if Dr. Polayes had supplied the rest of the funding. I mean, we had nothing. There was often hardly enough gas in the Ford Fairlane to make the drive from Waterbury to New Haven and back.

I was still having the surgeries all through high school, but once I went to college, I stopped the surgeries. The reason was threefold. 

Firstly, Dr. Polayes had retired and I was being treated by Dr. Andrew Wexler. You can look up Dr. Wexler, he is quite brilliant, but with Dr. Polayes' departure, all of the purpose seemed to depart as well. Dr. Polayes had known me longer than any teacher, and spent more actual hours with me than most of my relatives (granted, with his fingers inside my face while I was under anesthesia, but still). We had been at this for twenty years and I was just as caught up in the cause as anyone, but when he retired...it is hard to describe the feeling. I guess if you don't look too closely at the letter of the comparison, allow me to find a way to impart the spirit of the change: it was as though your favorite Mexican restaurant closed down, and in its place a burger joint moved in. Even if everyone says the burgers are wonderful, there's still no chiles rellenos anymore. What was the point? Nothing against Dr. Wexler, who, might I add, was not only a brilliant surgeon but quite charming and handsome. Oh yes, I had become a sassy little flirt, thanks to Dr. Polayes' handiwork and puberty.

Secondly, I had become more socially aware and civic-minded, my world was much larger thanks to books and teachers and knowledge. I had a friend who was born with a deadly heart defect and was in and out of the hospital (she's fine now). I thought that if I withdrew from the aid program, there would be a spot open for a person who REALLY needed the funds. It seemed frivolous of me to continue my operations for something that was not life-threatening. By that age I looked more or less normal enough that my shyness had gone, and my personality had blossomed. I had friends who didn't care whether or not my left ear was perfect. It wasn't, and it still isn't, but I asked myself: how many more surgeries before it looks ear-like enough that I'd want to wear my hair up? And with that thought came the realization that I didn't care about looking normal, as there were so many more important things in life than, well, ponytails. I mean, hey, I wore ponytails anyway. People sometimes stared and said shit, but dealing with those kinds of people is what made me who I am today. 

In high school
(photo by Brenda Fitch Schlosser, usually against my will. 

By that age, the Popsicle stick (I was no longer four years old, but it was hard to switch over to calling it a tongue depressor) was resting fairly evenly, but one of the surgeries involved getting my jaw wired shut for the summer between Junior and Senior year of high school. That was difficult, and three months of sipping pulverized meals through a straw had grown tiresome, as did the constant sight of the tracheotomy kit on my bedside table. (They never did say WHO would be the person cutting my throat to trache me if I suddenly started to choke on a not-quite blended chunk of meatball, but I kept picturing my mother panicking and trying to do it herself. Talk about nightmares). 

Well, that leads to the third of the threefold reason I stopped the surgeries. They'd wanted me back for summer of 1990, and that surgery would also have meant a wired-shut jaw. I was paying my own way through college. Nobody helped me get there, all the grants and loans I had sought out and signed up for myself, and the rest of the college funds came from four high-school years of hard-earned babysitting money. But in order to stay in college I needed to work, a lot, so that I could pay for the next semester. I told my mother to tell them that I'm finished. No more operations. We'll call this left ear "good enough." And it was. It is, has been for 20 years.

College of New Rochelle (Class of 92)

As I said, I was lucky. I was lucky that my Microtia was unilateral, that there is no atresia. I was lucky that my Hemifacial Microsomia was on the lower end of the severity spectrum. I was lucky that I qualified for Title 19, and that my operations went without complications. I was extremely lucky that Dr. Polayes was a gifted surgeon. 

Dr. Polayes died in 1999. Recently I found an article in the Yale School of Medicine newsletter saying that he was honored posthumously with a named professorship at Yale, along with his brother who was apparently a pathologist. There is a photo. It felt so strange to look at him again after all these years. God, he had seemed so big when I was four. 

 “Polayes was a master craftsman of that area,” says Persing. But he adds that his colleague, who died in 1999, was not merely skilled, he was an innovator. In addition to developing several surgical procedures, Polayes was among the first surgeons in the nation to train residents to repair facial injuries and congenital deformities like cleft palate. “He recognized there wasn’t a good training program for people who wanted to do this work,” Persing explains. “Thinking well ahead of everybody else, he developed a very extensive curriculum.” The training system Polayes developed is still in use by the American Society of Maxillofacial Surgeons. (Medicine@Yale, Jan/Feb 2009, Vol. 5, No. 1)

It is important that I make it clear that this kind of facial reconstruction is not always purely cosmetic. Sometimes it is, but with the more severe cases of Treacher Collins, Hemifacial Microsomia and Goldenhar Syndrome, the pediatric corrective surgeries are often needed to prevent more serious problems as the child grows. Just by growing, the craniofacial abnormalities can become more pronounced and severe and can lead to problems with hearing, breathing and eyesight.

If you have read this far, thank you. That's nice of you, I know that it was long. One more thing.

There is an organization called the Little Baby Face Foundation, and I'd like to tell you about them.

Little Baby Face is a charity that provides pediatric corrective surgeries for kids like me, and kids like Juliana Wetmore, and the other 1 in 10,000 who are born with facial deformities whose families cannot afford the operations. The surgeons take no payment, and for every dollar that you donate, .75 goes towards the surgery and aftercare. These days, there have been major advances in the field and it no longer takes twenty years to construct an ear. You can read all about it on their site, and trust me, it's thrilling.

Beauty is only skin deep. 

Looks aren't important. 

What's on the inside matters more than what's on the outside.

As an adult, I know all the platitudes. I learned them as a child. I would bet you my modest paycheck that I learned them years before you did. But most of you never get the chance to live the words. Knowing a thing and living it are completely different. If you could trade places with one of these kids for one day, you'd really understand the difference between knowing how deep beauty goes and praying to God from your bed in a darkened hospital room, missing your mom so much that you can't stop the tears, and asking Him why you weren't born pretty.

I've put Little Baby Face into my monthly budget and I'm donating ten bucks a month. It is not a lot, because I don't have a lot. My wealth is in the form of my friends and my regular readers, so I thought I should write my story, and in so doing, tell you all about Little Baby Face. I don't have kids of my own, but if I feel a connection to any little ones outside my circle of family and friends, it's a deep, resonating connection to these recipients of life-changing corrective surgery. I was lucky. Make someone lucky today, won't you?

Donate to Little Baby Face

(and thank you)

2012, Allston Rock City

*Note: The poem by Rocky Dennis was used in the 1985 movie of his life, starring Eric Stoltz. Rocky Dennis suffered from Craniodiaphyseal Dysplasia (also known as CDD, colloquially called lionitis). This is a rare bone disorder. There is no cure and surgery is rarely an option. Rocky's condition was a much more severe and life-threatening condition than most of the Treacher, Goldenhar and Microtia kids, but his poem just has always resonated very strongly with me, and it felt right to begin this piece with his words. Rest in peace, Rocky.

And rest in peace, Dr. Polayes.

The "I" was for Irving.

Link: Medicine@Yale article.

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