Dr. Christopher Lillis at this link provides a thoughtful and professional diagnosis that Jared Loughner suffers from paranoid schizophrenia. Rather than pretend to be a doctor myself and cut and paste a description of this tragic and ferocious mental illness, I encourage readers to read his article.
That's not enough for not-very-thoughtful and non-professional bloggers, columnists and pundits of all types who are finding a link between conservative politicians and talk show hosts and the killings.
Some conservatives, on the other hand, are claiming that President Obama's Tucson memorial speech was a "campaign speech." Since politicians have been known (I know this is hard to believe) to use such occasions for political gain, I carefully read the President's speech to see if I could detect any political bias in anything he said. If it was there, it would take a more astute reader than me to find it.
So the left thinks conservative politicians and talk show hosts fueled Jared Loughner's rage, and the right thinks the President's response in Tucson was a campaign speech. It seems to me there is more than enough stupidity going all the way around.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Fallout from the NPR Juan Williams Firing
A number of years ago I had the opportunity to spend some work-related time in New York City. I'm originally from the country, a dairy farmer's son, but now I love cities and enjoyed every moment in the Big Apple.
One Saturday morning I decided to walk Fifth Avenue as far as I could go. I began in midtown Manhattan, walked all along Central Park, and continued North until I was well into Harlem. At about 120th street - I don't remember where exactly - I realized I was in unfamiliar territory. Words we don't use much anymore, such as "slums" and "the ghetto" came to mind. It seemed as if I was the only white person in sight. I felt uncomfortable, turned around, and quickly scurried back.
Psychiatrists say that feelings are neither good nor bad - they are simply an expression of our emotional state at the moment we have them. Were my feelings of discomfort in Harlem justified? Probably not. Do they indicate that I am a racist? I hope not. Would I have those same feelings if I walked those streets today? I doubt it.
Apparently it is not safe in America anymore to publicly express personal feelings. When NPR veteran reporter Juan Williams said in October that he felt uncomfortable in an airport when he saw Muslims dressed in traditional garb, it cost him his job. Last week NPR senior vice-president Ellen Weiss was forced to resign for the clumsy way in which she handled his firing.
Here's what I find interesting. Juan Willians was raised in Brooklyn's rough-and-tumble Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood. He probably would not have felt the discomfort I felt walking Fifth Avenue through Harlem. I, on the other hand, lived in the Middle East for years and never felt uncomfortable on an aircraft surrounded by Muslim men wearing traditional clothing. If it happened to me here in the States, rather than being afraid I'd probably engage them in conversation.
The discomfort we both felt was, I would guess, at least partly due to the fact that we were in an unfamiliar situation, a little out of our comfort zone. I would hope that no one would interpret my feelings to assume that I was racist, and I think it is very unfortunate that Juan Willians lost his job after expressing his.
NPR Vice President Ellen Weiss took the fall recently for firing Williams over the telephone. She handled it clumsily, the top brass said, not professionally, so she had to go as well. The real tragedy is not that Williams said what he felt, or whether he was fired in person or over the telephone, or that Weiss also took the blame. It is that all CAIR, the Council on American-Islamic Relations, had to do was call NPR as soon as they heard Juan Williams' comments on FOX and express their "deep concern" that he might be "Islamophobic" (in quotes because it is only a cleverly-invented word intended for occasions such as this), and his comments could be "fear-mongering". That NPR would be so fearful of CAIR's bluster that it would immediately call Juan Williams to inform him he was history is the real tragedy.
One Saturday morning I decided to walk Fifth Avenue as far as I could go. I began in midtown Manhattan, walked all along Central Park, and continued North until I was well into Harlem. At about 120th street - I don't remember where exactly - I realized I was in unfamiliar territory. Words we don't use much anymore, such as "slums" and "the ghetto" came to mind. It seemed as if I was the only white person in sight. I felt uncomfortable, turned around, and quickly scurried back.
Psychiatrists say that feelings are neither good nor bad - they are simply an expression of our emotional state at the moment we have them. Were my feelings of discomfort in Harlem justified? Probably not. Do they indicate that I am a racist? I hope not. Would I have those same feelings if I walked those streets today? I doubt it.
Apparently it is not safe in America anymore to publicly express personal feelings. When NPR veteran reporter Juan Williams said in October that he felt uncomfortable in an airport when he saw Muslims dressed in traditional garb, it cost him his job. Last week NPR senior vice-president Ellen Weiss was forced to resign for the clumsy way in which she handled his firing.
Here's what I find interesting. Juan Willians was raised in Brooklyn's rough-and-tumble Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood. He probably would not have felt the discomfort I felt walking Fifth Avenue through Harlem. I, on the other hand, lived in the Middle East for years and never felt uncomfortable on an aircraft surrounded by Muslim men wearing traditional clothing. If it happened to me here in the States, rather than being afraid I'd probably engage them in conversation.
The discomfort we both felt was, I would guess, at least partly due to the fact that we were in an unfamiliar situation, a little out of our comfort zone. I would hope that no one would interpret my feelings to assume that I was racist, and I think it is very unfortunate that Juan Willians lost his job after expressing his.
NPR Vice President Ellen Weiss took the fall recently for firing Williams over the telephone. She handled it clumsily, the top brass said, not professionally, so she had to go as well. The real tragedy is not that Williams said what he felt, or whether he was fired in person or over the telephone, or that Weiss also took the blame. It is that all CAIR, the Council on American-Islamic Relations, had to do was call NPR as soon as they heard Juan Williams' comments on FOX and express their "deep concern" that he might be "Islamophobic" (in quotes because it is only a cleverly-invented word intended for occasions such as this), and his comments could be "fear-mongering". That NPR would be so fearful of CAIR's bluster that it would immediately call Juan Williams to inform him he was history is the real tragedy.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
The Alexandria Coptic Christmas Bombing
Now that I am technically a Lutheran, I'm getting used to the idea that major holidays are seasonal events that not only begin long before the week of the celebration, but continue afterwards. I have always been accustomed to weeks of Advent before Christmas, but to hear a sermon on "The Slaughter of the Innocents" the first Sunday after Christmas, when gift wrapping was still scattered around my living room floor, was a bit disconcerting. For those who don't know the story, the Wise Men who came to see the infant Jesus announced they were coming to greet a King. The local ruler Herod was threatened by this news of another King, and immediately killed all male children under two years of age. Jesus was only saved by the fact that his parents whisked him off to Egypt before the soldiers got to him.
Having heard the sermon, in which the Pastor reminded us that children are still being unjustly killed in many parts of the world, I should have been prepared for the news of the bombing of the Coptic Church in Alexandria in which 25 people lost their lives. I'm not sure why this particular story has saddened me so much. After all, Muslim suicide bombers have killed hundreds of people - not only Christians but Shia and innocent Sunnis as well - over the span of only the past few weeks. Maybe it's because I've walked the streets of Alexandria and visited Coptic churches in Cairo. Maybe it's because I've had Coptic friends. Perhaps it was seeing this Facebook page of Mariouma Fekry. Her last post, just a few hours before she went to church where she was blown to little pieces, was: 2010 is over...this year has the best memories of my life...really enjoyed living this year...I hope 2011 is much better...i have so many wishes in 2011...hope they come true...plz god stay beside me & help make it all true. :)
In the midst of Muslim denial, denial, denial, writer Hani Shukrallah in this article which is well worth reading gets closer to the truth than most. He at least acknowledges the thinly-veiled resentment, jealousy, and hatred many Middle Eastern Muslims feel towards the Christians living in their midst. But as a Muslim, Hani cannot go to the root of the problem. It is not only that he is unwilling and unable to, he is not allowed to. The one thing Hani Shukrallah cannot do is consider the possibility that the hatred many Muslims harbour toward non-Muslims finds its source in their Prophet and their Book and their Religion.
The most important thing in understanding Islam is to see it from the perspective not of a 21st century Muslim academic living in the West, but of Muhammad. To the Prophet and his early followers, the world was divided into two groups of people. Those who accepted Muhammad as Allah's Final Prophet were the mumineen, the true believers. All who rejected the message were the kuffar.
This is where the story gets interesting. The Quran has nothing good to say about the kafir (singular) and the kuffar (plural). Ask your Muslim friends if they consider you a kafir, and they will assure you that you are not. "You are a Person of the Book," they will say. "The Quran says that Christians are the closest people to the Muslims. It would never use the word kafir to describe a Christian."
On the surface, that sounds nice. The reality is that the only reason Christians and Jews were called "People of the Book" is because they had books - the Torah and the Injil - that they could read, whereas the Arabs were mostly illiterate and had no books. The Christians whom the Quran describes as close to the Muslims were those who accepted Muhammad as a Prophet. But what about the statement that the Quran never called a Christian a kafir?
It is true - technically - that the word kafir is not used in the Quran to describe Christians, but a quick look at Arabic grammar gives a different story. The difference between a verb and an active participle, or the person doing the action of the verb, is a simple change of vowelling and pronunciation. The verb sakana means to reside, and a resident is a saakin. Kataba means to write, and a writer is a kaatib. Qatala means to kill, and a killer is a qaatil. Saraqa means to steal, and a thief is a saariq. Kafara means to disbelieve in Muhammad, and an unbeliever is.....you guessed it, a kaafir.
When your Muslim friends tell you the Quran does not use the exact active participle kaafir to describe a Christian, they are correct. But the Quran does say in surat al-Maidah (5:17) that those who believe Jesus was the Son of God are guilty of kafara. Following Arabic's own rules of grammar, they are the kuffar.
It is ironic, if not tragic, that the country the infant Jesus fled to in order to escape a Roman King would, 2000 years later, blow up 25 of his followers as they were leaving a celebration of his birth. 2010 began with the slaughter of 7 Copts as they were leaving a church in Nag Hammadi, and ended with the massacre of four times that many in Alexandria. Until Muslims become willing to look at the source of this hatred, my fear is that things will get much worse before they get better.
Having heard the sermon, in which the Pastor reminded us that children are still being unjustly killed in many parts of the world, I should have been prepared for the news of the bombing of the Coptic Church in Alexandria in which 25 people lost their lives. I'm not sure why this particular story has saddened me so much. After all, Muslim suicide bombers have killed hundreds of people - not only Christians but Shia and innocent Sunnis as well - over the span of only the past few weeks. Maybe it's because I've walked the streets of Alexandria and visited Coptic churches in Cairo. Maybe it's because I've had Coptic friends. Perhaps it was seeing this Facebook page of Mariouma Fekry. Her last post, just a few hours before she went to church where she was blown to little pieces, was: 2010 is over...this year has the best memories of my life...really enjoyed living this year...I hope 2011 is much better...i have so many wishes in 2011...hope they come true...plz god stay beside me & help make it all true. :)
In the midst of Muslim denial, denial, denial, writer Hani Shukrallah in this article which is well worth reading gets closer to the truth than most. He at least acknowledges the thinly-veiled resentment, jealousy, and hatred many Middle Eastern Muslims feel towards the Christians living in their midst. But as a Muslim, Hani cannot go to the root of the problem. It is not only that he is unwilling and unable to, he is not allowed to. The one thing Hani Shukrallah cannot do is consider the possibility that the hatred many Muslims harbour toward non-Muslims finds its source in their Prophet and their Book and their Religion.
The most important thing in understanding Islam is to see it from the perspective not of a 21st century Muslim academic living in the West, but of Muhammad. To the Prophet and his early followers, the world was divided into two groups of people. Those who accepted Muhammad as Allah's Final Prophet were the mumineen, the true believers. All who rejected the message were the kuffar.
This is where the story gets interesting. The Quran has nothing good to say about the kafir (singular) and the kuffar (plural). Ask your Muslim friends if they consider you a kafir, and they will assure you that you are not. "You are a Person of the Book," they will say. "The Quran says that Christians are the closest people to the Muslims. It would never use the word kafir to describe a Christian."
On the surface, that sounds nice. The reality is that the only reason Christians and Jews were called "People of the Book" is because they had books - the Torah and the Injil - that they could read, whereas the Arabs were mostly illiterate and had no books. The Christians whom the Quran describes as close to the Muslims were those who accepted Muhammad as a Prophet. But what about the statement that the Quran never called a Christian a kafir?
It is true - technically - that the word kafir is not used in the Quran to describe Christians, but a quick look at Arabic grammar gives a different story. The difference between a verb and an active participle, or the person doing the action of the verb, is a simple change of vowelling and pronunciation. The verb sakana means to reside, and a resident is a saakin. Kataba means to write, and a writer is a kaatib. Qatala means to kill, and a killer is a qaatil. Saraqa means to steal, and a thief is a saariq. Kafara means to disbelieve in Muhammad, and an unbeliever is.....you guessed it, a kaafir.
When your Muslim friends tell you the Quran does not use the exact active participle kaafir to describe a Christian, they are correct. But the Quran does say in surat al-Maidah (5:17) that those who believe Jesus was the Son of God are guilty of kafara. Following Arabic's own rules of grammar, they are the kuffar.
It is ironic, if not tragic, that the country the infant Jesus fled to in order to escape a Roman King would, 2000 years later, blow up 25 of his followers as they were leaving a celebration of his birth. 2010 began with the slaughter of 7 Copts as they were leaving a church in Nag Hammadi, and ended with the massacre of four times that many in Alexandria. Until Muslims become willing to look at the source of this hatred, my fear is that things will get much worse before they get better.
Monday, January 3, 2011
There You Go
The other day I heard a stand-up comic give a routine about the common expression "There You Go". "It's a great phrase," he said. "Some idiot comes up and tells you something that's really stupid. You don't want to get in an argument or fight with them, so you just listen until they finish and then you say, "There you go." They walk away impressed with what they have told you, not realizing that to you it makes no sense at all."
A Muslim neighbor engaged me in conversation today about the recent church bombing in Alexandria. "Some people think the Mossad were behind it," he said. "Even a Coptic Member of Parliament publicly stated that Israel is trying to separate the Christians and the Muslims in Egypt. Israel wants to divide the entire Middle East into little countries that will have no influence."
Well, there you go.
A Muslim neighbor engaged me in conversation today about the recent church bombing in Alexandria. "Some people think the Mossad were behind it," he said. "Even a Coptic Member of Parliament publicly stated that Israel is trying to separate the Christians and the Muslims in Egypt. Israel wants to divide the entire Middle East into little countries that will have no influence."
Well, there you go.
Sunday, December 26, 2010
America, I Don't Like You!
Soon after I posted my chance meeting with a young African girl coming from Saudi Arabia to study in America, I came across this poignant account of a Saudi woman also living in America as a student. My translation is from her Arabic blog which can be viewed here.
"Before I came to America, the idea of independence attracted me more than anything else. Even though my father was never involved in my personal decisions and allowed me full responsibility, the lifestyle of my country forces women to be dependent for the simplest of things. Besides that, my father spoiled me so much that he would not even allow me to move a glass from its place - that was the job of the servants!
So I came to America with the dream of benefitting from the experience of freedom. I wanted this experience to strengthen and develop my personality. I wanted to learn to depend on myself, which was hard in a country controlled by masculinity.
But I no longer want this independence, nor the responsibility that I used to dream about. I want to return to my parents. I want to wake up to find my breakfast prepared and waiting for me. I want to finish eating breakfast and have my coffee ready. Then I want to get in the car and have the driver drop me off at the university, or the mall, or wherever I want to go. When I'm finished, I want him waiting to take me home.
I don't want to have to look for a parking spot. I don't want to pay the rent and the utility bills. I don't want to think about anything except my dreams. I don't want daily responsibilities that weigh me down.
Who is at fault for my fear and inability to accept responsibility? Is what I feel normal? Is the lifestyle I am accustomed to the reason for this? Should I blame myself, or the society that demands the permission of my father for everything?
I don't like the American life. I find it pushes people down. It forces you "to be or not to be". You can't be just an ordinary person living an ordinary life. You either succeed, or you are forced to work three jobs to live a respectable life. There is no place for the family. There are no boundaries placed in front of trying to get money.
This is what I have observed in my small environment, and is not a generalization. I prefer the pretense and windowdressing of my own country. I prefer the dichotomy, and the lack of freedom. I want to live my life and defend my principles, with all the limits and restrictions, but with my family. I want to be with my daddy and mommy, with my brothers and sisters and my relatives. I want to be my father's spoiled child who arranges the entire house according to her whims.
There is something about my country that makes me crazy about it. In spite of all my criticism and my rebellion, I love it more than any other country.
I know many will not agree with me, but I am speaking about my personal experience. Many people love life in America, and they have that right. Yes, there are many positive aspects, but they mean nothing to me. None of them make up for what I am missing. What I have lost is much greater than I can put into words. America, I am sorry but I don't like you!
Life in America is not right for me. That does not mean it is not right for all the women from my country. I am merely speaking for myself. I was much happier in Saudi Arabia. There is a spirituality I have lost here. What I have lost is much deeper than the feelings of independence and self-reliance, and that I am equal to a man in every way. I have lost something that all those things are not able to cover. I have been in America more than six months, and these feelings are still with me.
I still view America as being green, the color of money. Its nights are depressing, and its streets narrow. Life here is frightening. I would prefer an hour in the Empty Quarter to these dreary woods behind my house.
This is my personal perspective, nothing more."
"Before I came to America, the idea of independence attracted me more than anything else. Even though my father was never involved in my personal decisions and allowed me full responsibility, the lifestyle of my country forces women to be dependent for the simplest of things. Besides that, my father spoiled me so much that he would not even allow me to move a glass from its place - that was the job of the servants!
So I came to America with the dream of benefitting from the experience of freedom. I wanted this experience to strengthen and develop my personality. I wanted to learn to depend on myself, which was hard in a country controlled by masculinity.
But I no longer want this independence, nor the responsibility that I used to dream about. I want to return to my parents. I want to wake up to find my breakfast prepared and waiting for me. I want to finish eating breakfast and have my coffee ready. Then I want to get in the car and have the driver drop me off at the university, or the mall, or wherever I want to go. When I'm finished, I want him waiting to take me home.
I don't want to have to look for a parking spot. I don't want to pay the rent and the utility bills. I don't want to think about anything except my dreams. I don't want daily responsibilities that weigh me down.
Who is at fault for my fear and inability to accept responsibility? Is what I feel normal? Is the lifestyle I am accustomed to the reason for this? Should I blame myself, or the society that demands the permission of my father for everything?
I don't like the American life. I find it pushes people down. It forces you "to be or not to be". You can't be just an ordinary person living an ordinary life. You either succeed, or you are forced to work three jobs to live a respectable life. There is no place for the family. There are no boundaries placed in front of trying to get money.
This is what I have observed in my small environment, and is not a generalization. I prefer the pretense and windowdressing of my own country. I prefer the dichotomy, and the lack of freedom. I want to live my life and defend my principles, with all the limits and restrictions, but with my family. I want to be with my daddy and mommy, with my brothers and sisters and my relatives. I want to be my father's spoiled child who arranges the entire house according to her whims.
There is something about my country that makes me crazy about it. In spite of all my criticism and my rebellion, I love it more than any other country.
I know many will not agree with me, but I am speaking about my personal experience. Many people love life in America, and they have that right. Yes, there are many positive aspects, but they mean nothing to me. None of them make up for what I am missing. What I have lost is much greater than I can put into words. America, I am sorry but I don't like you!
Life in America is not right for me. That does not mean it is not right for all the women from my country. I am merely speaking for myself. I was much happier in Saudi Arabia. There is a spirituality I have lost here. What I have lost is much deeper than the feelings of independence and self-reliance, and that I am equal to a man in every way. I have lost something that all those things are not able to cover. I have been in America more than six months, and these feelings are still with me.
I still view America as being green, the color of money. Its nights are depressing, and its streets narrow. Life here is frightening. I would prefer an hour in the Empty Quarter to these dreary woods behind my house.
This is my personal perspective, nothing more."
Welcome to America!
I was waiting at the King Khalid Airport in Riyadh to board the Swiss Air flight that would take me on the first leg from The Magic Kingdom to America. Among the usual crowd of well-heeled Saudis and bewejelled expats I noticed a young, comparatively poorly-dressed dark-skinned girl waiting to board the plane. In Zurich we went to the same gate to catch the onward flight to Washington, and I struck up a conversation with her. Her family was from Guinea in West Africa, but she had been born in Saudi Arabia and lived there her entire life. Her father was one of millions of foreign workers who did the jobs Saudis were unwilling or unable to do, and her family was far from rich. They had saved enough money, however, to send their oldest daughter to America to study where she had been accepted at the University of Washington.
She said she had never really felt at home in Saudi Arabia or welcomed there, even though it was the only country she had known. She had returned to Guinea for a few months after graduating from high school, but felt even more of a stranger there. Like millions of others have done for centuries, she was coming to America to start a new life.
I was behind her as she put her suitcase on the conveyor belt to go through security, and it set off enough alarms to raise the dead. Security officials quickly opened the suitcase to reveal the metal sauce pans and silverware, along with bags of rice and beans, that her mother had packed for her so she would be able to survive in America. I realized that if she was having that hard a time getting out of Europe she might have a real hard time getting in America, so I made sure to keep her in sight to vouch for her if necessary after we reached DC. They let her into the country, and at the luggage carousel I saw her for the last time.
When I shook her hand to say farewell I handed her a crisp 100 dollar bill. "Life's not always easy in America," I told her. "You are going to meet people who mistreat you, and some who try to take advantage of you. No matter what happens, I want you to remember that the first person you met in America welcomed you here."
As she looked at my gift her eyes got large and her mouth dropped open. She could only say three words, but they were more than enough. "Oh my God!"
A few weeks ago I learned that a young Egyptian couple was making their first trip to America to interview in hopes of being accepted at a university in New York City. At the last moment the person who had said they could stay in her apartment backed out of the invitation. Determined to make the trip anyhow, the couple sold their car in Cairo to be able to afford the cheapest hotel they could find in Brooklyn.
After they finished the interviews, I offered to host them for a few days in the DC area. I took a day off from work, and we walked around the White House and the Mall. I introduced them to the Lincoln Memorial and explained why Abraham Lincoln was such an important President that he merited his own temple. We visited the Vietnam Memorial, and watched the veterans who after all these years still shed tears as they touch the engraved names of fallen comrades. And I said to them, "This is America."
Like most of us, I continue to make New Year's Resolutions even though I usually fail to keep them. My resolution for 2011 is to be more active in welcoming newcomers to our country. Many refugees have recently arrived from war torn countries such as Iraq, Somalia, and Afghanistan. I've just filled out the application forms to serve as a volunteer teaching English as a Second Language to some of them. It's only a two-hour per week commitment, and even I can handle that. Hopefully I'll do a good job and will be able to say to them, along with the many others involved in their resettlement, "Welcome to America!"
She said she had never really felt at home in Saudi Arabia or welcomed there, even though it was the only country she had known. She had returned to Guinea for a few months after graduating from high school, but felt even more of a stranger there. Like millions of others have done for centuries, she was coming to America to start a new life.
I was behind her as she put her suitcase on the conveyor belt to go through security, and it set off enough alarms to raise the dead. Security officials quickly opened the suitcase to reveal the metal sauce pans and silverware, along with bags of rice and beans, that her mother had packed for her so she would be able to survive in America. I realized that if she was having that hard a time getting out of Europe she might have a real hard time getting in America, so I made sure to keep her in sight to vouch for her if necessary after we reached DC. They let her into the country, and at the luggage carousel I saw her for the last time.
When I shook her hand to say farewell I handed her a crisp 100 dollar bill. "Life's not always easy in America," I told her. "You are going to meet people who mistreat you, and some who try to take advantage of you. No matter what happens, I want you to remember that the first person you met in America welcomed you here."
As she looked at my gift her eyes got large and her mouth dropped open. She could only say three words, but they were more than enough. "Oh my God!"
A few weeks ago I learned that a young Egyptian couple was making their first trip to America to interview in hopes of being accepted at a university in New York City. At the last moment the person who had said they could stay in her apartment backed out of the invitation. Determined to make the trip anyhow, the couple sold their car in Cairo to be able to afford the cheapest hotel they could find in Brooklyn.
After they finished the interviews, I offered to host them for a few days in the DC area. I took a day off from work, and we walked around the White House and the Mall. I introduced them to the Lincoln Memorial and explained why Abraham Lincoln was such an important President that he merited his own temple. We visited the Vietnam Memorial, and watched the veterans who after all these years still shed tears as they touch the engraved names of fallen comrades. And I said to them, "This is America."
Like most of us, I continue to make New Year's Resolutions even though I usually fail to keep them. My resolution for 2011 is to be more active in welcoming newcomers to our country. Many refugees have recently arrived from war torn countries such as Iraq, Somalia, and Afghanistan. I've just filled out the application forms to serve as a volunteer teaching English as a Second Language to some of them. It's only a two-hour per week commitment, and even I can handle that. Hopefully I'll do a good job and will be able to say to them, along with the many others involved in their resettlement, "Welcome to America!"
Sunday, December 19, 2010
What Sarah Palin Has That Everybody Wants
In her December 17 interview with Sarah Palin, Good Morning America correspondent Robin Roberts noted, "I have to tell you, the first thing I noticed when I walked into the Palin home is that it's all about family."
America is a country filled with millions - perhaps tens and scores of millions - of lonely people. Many of us are divorced, or the children of divorced parents. Others stay in empty relationships long after the spark of romance and the warmth of intimacy have gone. Unmarried teenage girls choose to become pregnant and have babies just so they can have someone to love or to love them. People move from one empty relationship to another, or give up hope of a good relationship at all. Married couples choose not to have children for the sake of their careers, or carefully calculate how many children they can have without putting those careers on hold. Infants live their lives in daycare because their parents choose lifestyles that demand both incomes.
And along comes Sara Palin, a woman who loves a husband who adores her, with a big, messy family. Her critics use words such as "polarizing, fanatic, radical, right-wing extremist, Christian fundamentalist conservative" to describe her, and that's just the beginning. I don't need to mention those critics by name, and you could probably make a list far longer than mine. My suggestion is that she has something most of them are longing for.
It could well be that Sarah Palin will be the next President of the United States. If so, she will continue to be the person she has always been, a mother working out of the house balancing the needs of her family and her job. Like radio talk-show host Dr. Laura, I could imagine President Palin greeting foreign dignitaries by saying, "Good morning King Abdallah and Queen Rania, and welcome to the White House. I am Sarah Palin, and I am my kids' mom."
America is a country filled with millions - perhaps tens and scores of millions - of lonely people. Many of us are divorced, or the children of divorced parents. Others stay in empty relationships long after the spark of romance and the warmth of intimacy have gone. Unmarried teenage girls choose to become pregnant and have babies just so they can have someone to love or to love them. People move from one empty relationship to another, or give up hope of a good relationship at all. Married couples choose not to have children for the sake of their careers, or carefully calculate how many children they can have without putting those careers on hold. Infants live their lives in daycare because their parents choose lifestyles that demand both incomes.
And along comes Sara Palin, a woman who loves a husband who adores her, with a big, messy family. Her critics use words such as "polarizing, fanatic, radical, right-wing extremist, Christian fundamentalist conservative" to describe her, and that's just the beginning. I don't need to mention those critics by name, and you could probably make a list far longer than mine. My suggestion is that she has something most of them are longing for.
It could well be that Sarah Palin will be the next President of the United States. If so, she will continue to be the person she has always been, a mother working out of the house balancing the needs of her family and her job. Like radio talk-show host Dr. Laura, I could imagine President Palin greeting foreign dignitaries by saying, "Good morning King Abdallah and Queen Rania, and welcome to the White House. I am Sarah Palin, and I am my kids' mom."
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