HOW NOT TO HAVE A POLITICAL DISCUSSION

I'm going to be honest here. The words politics and political parties generally set my teeth on edge.  Why?  It isn't that I don't respect the opinions of fellow citizens, or even that I dislike an opposing viewpoint.  Everyone is entitled to own their opinions, even if they are bat-crumb crazy. It's just that some people bleed left or right, red or blue. And I don't understand it.  That's a foreign language to me, and frankly, not one that I'm all that interested in.  Do not mistake that for meaning that I'm not interested, or that I simply don't care about who is running things locally, statewide, and nationally.  I do.  I'm not an uneducated ogre that hides in a cave and expects everyone else to make informed decisions for me or take care of me. That being said, here are five things we shouldn't do to make ourselves heard.

#1: Name-call/Label/Use "Descriptive Terms"

Nothing, and I repeat, nothing, will turn me off faster than hearing a string of good-for-nothing-long-haired-hippie-freak-squishy-radicals talk spew from your mouth before you've even attempted to tell me anything about an issue or person.  We learned in Kindergarten that it isn't nice to call people names.  It's a lesson we should remember as adults.  Adjectives are fine.  I'm a fan.  They make life spicy. Hearing them in a negative connotation in reference to an opposing viewpoint simply isn't cool, kids. 

#2: Assume that the other person is an idiot because their opinion is different

(See rule #1 in regards to name calling.) Do you know how I decide whether or not to vote for someone? I don't follow their campaign trail with captivated attention while making notes on scraps of paper I squirrel away in drawer labeled "The Future." What's paper anyway? When the time comes for an election, again, be it county, state, or federal, I look up the candidates running for a particular position.  That's right.  I go online, see where they stand on issues that I can't personally compromise on, and THEN I make my notes.  I don't stash them in the drawer though, I generally take them with me into the polling booth.  My point here is this, give people the benefit of the doubt that, despite the fact that they disagree with you, they have put a milliliter of thought into who they are voting for or what they support.  If you happen to be one of those people that simply fills out a ballet in the shape of a Christmas tree, or a smiley face, I suppose that is your given right as a citizen too.  As is your choice to refrain from voting. You do, however, forfeit your right to complain about anything at any given time. Ever.

#3: Wage a verbal sparring war with anyone, anywhere

Accept the fact that some of us are more private about our ideas and beliefs.  (And, egad, sometimes people are just joking.) There are those folks that will stand and deliver a passionate speech as to why they believe the way they do politically speaking.  They're called extroverts.  That's great.  The world needs passion.  There are also these people called introverts.  Engaging them in a hot under the collar debate isn't going to win them over.  Some folks just need to process without you cramming your viewpoint down their throats. That's fine too.  Just be aware of the fact that not everyone has the desire to have a full-fledged political standoff.  And don't assume that there isn't much going on in their heads or that they can't form a logical argument against you. (See Rule #2)  People communicate in different ways, and the best way to get your point across is to be respectful of that.

#4: Ignore the fact that you've gone too far

When you start hearing the chirp of awkward crickets, it just might be time to pull back and change topic.  Perhaps settle on sports or music. Is there anything worse than being trapped in a conversation that you absolutely don't want to be in?  Think about that.  Read the tone of those around you.  After you've blasted out your opinions, whether or not people have jumped on your bandwagon, wrap it up.  Leave them wanting more, right?  Silence isn't an indication of weakness or lack of thought.  It could mean that the person is considering what you've said, congratulations, or that they have reached their limit on the amount of hootenanny they can take. Either way, you can't lead a dead horse to water.

#5: Ignore all semblances of consideration and kindness

It doesn't count if you preface your argument by saying, "I'm not trying to be mean here," and then do just precisely that. Again, let's look at the lessons learned in Kinder. Treat others the way you want to be treated.  How about with a little respect? There are some people that will not concede any point, ever. EVER.  That's their right too.  But oh-the-guacamole, live and let live! Politics aren't everything. GASP! That's right, I said it.  The world doesn't revolve around donkeys and elephants.  At the end of the day, we're all (hopefully) just trying to do the best we can.  We disagree.  It happens.  It's a good thing. Being nasty about other people simply doesn't help anything.  There is SO MUCH beauty in being able to disagree, but while shaking hands and laughing about the hot debate you've just wrapped up. Ultimately, it's how we act on our beliefs that define us.  It isn't how loudly or passionately we get them across, it's what we do about them that matters.

The One That Didn't Win...The Ending

(Alas, alack, tis the conclusion of the story. The parameters for this particular contest were that it had to be an original work 3,500 words or less, and had to encompass some aspect of the lives of women. Not my favorite topic to write around, but good practice for me.)

Figuring out Susan became my top priority. In exchange for my opinions and ideas I was offered a fairly permanent place at their dinner table. Susan was downright horrified the day she visited my kitchen with its meager provisions. Through a process of trial and elimination we discovered that she enjoyed photography in her spare time and that she was actually quite good at it. They were as much works of art as my paintings. I regularly watched the kids an hour a day when I could so that she could have some precious time to herself. Rob and I encouraged her to enter a local contest and were not the least bit surprised when she walked away with second place.

We slowly merged to a happy medium, with her being slightly more laid back and me actually having fruit, yogurt, and milk available when the girls came over for a visit. I never even flinched in the slightest when they reached up and placed their chubby little hands in mine. It somehow managed to feel natural. Like they were part of my own family. I felt happy.

Alex seemed to notice the change in me one afternoon over coffee.

"You look good, Mags. I think meeting Susan ended up being one of the best things that could have happened to you."

"Thanks, Alex. My life feels more balanced. Less isolated. I think Susan and I needed to find each other."

He studied a spot on the table, rubbing it with his finger. "Is there anyone else you need?"

I felt my cheeks grow suddenly warm as I stared at the man across from me. "You know there is."

He smiled. "Will you have dinner with me tonight, Mags? There's something I want to ask you."

I smiled in return. "I would love to, Alex. Susan and I are checking out the space for our exhibit. After that, I'm all yours."

"That's my plan."

***

"Lacy, wait for Mommy honey."

The stroller wheel caught on a small crack in the pavement. It was that small crack that managed to unhinge everything, for the moment it jostled the stroller, Jaime's pacifier bounced onto the sidewalk. Three small, individually innocuous actions combined simultaneously to produce horrific results. Susan bent for a second to retrieve the dropped pacifier. Lacy spotted a snow white pigeon on the curb just taking flight. And a delivery man in a large truck with breaks long overdue for inspection glanced down briefly to check the address of his next delivery.

There was no hesitation. I looked to Lacy, seeing the termination of light and laughter. The end of a limitless future of unrealized promise and possibility. And so I stepped over to make sure that little girl would have another day to chase whatever birds or dreams she imagined. Just like her mother. The driver never had a chance to stop as I stepped out to push Lacy out of his path. Mercifully, there was merely an explosion of light, rather than one of pain. And I could see for miles. It was more beautiful than any color I could ever mix with my own two hands. I took flight as I made my way to the warmth of the sky, before hearing a cry that temporarily pulled me back towards the dingy colors of all that lay beneath me. She deserved one last good-bye.

This is how I died.

The One That Didn't Win Continued

(This is the continuation of a story...so you're starting in the middle if you are reading for the first time. You're welcome to. I used to be one of those people. But I've changed. Really.)

It was two months into our friendship when I got a late night phone call I can honestly say I was both expecting and dreading simultaneously. Rob was away on business, yet again, and Lacy had a fever. Could I pop over to stay with them while she ran down to the market for some medicine? How do you say no to that without coming across as a callous, uncaring waste of humanity?

I walked into her usually spotless apartment to find toys, laundry and the remains of an unknown meal on the kitchen counter. I had never felt more proud of her.

"Both of the girls are asleep now. I should be back in twenty minutes. Thank you so much!" And she was gone.

I moved a stack of towels aside to sit on the sofa. Five minutes later a sweaty, frowning Lacy padded over and climbed up in my lap. "Where's Mommy?"

It wasn't a natural movement to wrap my arms around this little human, but I did as I pulled her into me. Her hair smelled of some sweet soap and her skin was soft and feverishly warm.

"She'll be back soon. She went to get you some medicine."

"Will you read me a story until she gets back?"

Perfect. I wouldn't have to entertain. This was a piece of cake.

"Sure, sweetheart."

As we read about the sleepy moon, I envisioned the scene Susan would find upon her arrival. Sweet Lacy, curled in my lap, reading a story. I could handle this. Parenting didn't seem as difficult as the horror stories I'd read about. Perhaps they just didn't have the best ideas. I was obviously gifted.

Until sweet Lacy looked up to say, "Mags, my tummy hurts."

"Oh. Well, Mommy will be back soon and I'm sure she can make it feel better. Let's finish our book."

In the next instant our book, along with Lacy and my arms and legs, was covered in sickness. Lacy whined once, gave me an utterly helpless look, and proceeded to be sick again. I looked around the room for the nearest trash bin, decided it was too far, and opted for the vase on the coffee table before us. After quickly tossing the peonies aside, I offered it to Lacy to hopefully contain the mess. The room began to spin as I dry heaved. Oh no. No! Fortunately, that was the moment Susan returned.

"She exploded!" I wailed as I held my arms away from my body.

Susan surveyed the situation for all of two seconds before springing into action. She simultaneously carried Lacy to the restroom while catching and containing the rest of the sickness the poor thing still elicited. By the time I joined them in the restroom; she had already started a bath, stripped the soiled nightgown and calmed the distraught child. With only a glance in my direction, she commanded me to use their master bath to get cleaned up and to leave my clothes in a towel in front of the door.

I don't honestly know how long I stood there, scrubbing the top layer of my skin off. It could have been a few minutes, or even days. All I know is that I still didn't feel clean. When I emerged from the shower smelling like a fresh summer peach, a pair of black gauchos and a red t-shirt awaited me.

The scene before me didn't make sense. Everything was clean. A lit candle on the coffee table was doing a miraculous job of masking the memory of the last scene witnessed here. The whir of the washing machine attested to the hope that my favorite jeans just might have been spared a life of certain destruction. I found Susan, sitting in the glow of a night light on the floor beside Lacy's bed. She held a rag to the head of the now sleeping child.

"Hey," I whispered. She stood to her feet, kissing Lacy's cheek before quietly closing the door behind her. "How's she doing?"

Susan laughed quietly. "She's much better actually. I'm so sorry you were here for that."

I nodded. "I'm sorry I used your nice crystal vase to catch things."

"Nothing is sacred." She headed to the kitchen. "How about a cup of tea?"

I said that tea would be lovely but a glass of wine might be better. She agreed and we soon each held a glass as we sat at the table.

"How do you do this, Susan? Rob travels so much and you're just here with them all the time. How do you know what to do with them? Do you ever resent the fact that you are the primary caregiver day in, day out?"

She took a long sip before answering. "Most of parenting is trial and error. I know the kind of person I hope my children grow to be and the best I can do is be a living example of that. And I do resent him sometimes when I get calls at two in the morning when he is at a piano bar entertaining clients or out with co-workers. I'm only human."

"You always seem so put together. Not a hair out of place, clean kids, orderly routine."

"That's what I want you to see. Look around you now, Mags. This is what life is really like. Some days I think my face is going to crack from the smile plastered there."

"What do you do for you, Susan? I see the way you care for the girls, the way you take care of your home and your husband. But, what do you do to take care of yourself? You were Susan long before you were a wife and mother. What do you like to do?"

She took another long drink, sitting quietly as her eyes began to water. "I don't know anymore, Mags."

"Well that is something we are going to change," I assured her as I softly clinked my glass to hers.

The Lent Experiment

I've thought about Lent. I've abstained from soda or other small thing that required very little sacrifice on my part. But it was always for a week or two when I remembered that it was in fact Lent. It more or less came and went without much notice from me. Until this year.

I decided mid-December that my goal for 2012 was Simplicity. The month of January was spent sorting, donating, organizing, and throwing out. It felt so peaceful. My home feels calm and I LOVE it. And I'm not finished yet. I continue to donate, sort, and give back. I don't want to be tied to things. I don't want a house full of stuff I don't need that will ultimately become the problem of someone else at some point down the road.

I'm doing okay with this mindset. It's working for me. I've seen great results both in my home and in my personal mentality. So I'm cruising through this resolution, feeling good about it, when I realize, there is more to simplify. Enter Lent at the perfect timing to help me do just that.

Aside from removing visual clutter, I also need to remove time clutter. The things that I have spread throughout my day that deprive me of a life of simplicity and the lifestyle and priorities that I have set as goals. So this year, I am giving up Facebook and Netflix. It is so easy to escape from the things I have to do and allow myself to be distracted from the things I should do and need to do. I want to write. I want to get my novel ready to edit within this year. That can't be done if I'm sitting around watching Clean House reruns or scrolling through status updates. My husband has decided to give up movies in general.

The results of Day One:

My husband and I sat on the couch with mugs of hot tea and talked. We have both been so busy and had so much going on these last few weeks, it was sweet to just reconnect. And not in front of a t.v. screen. The clincher for me that Lent was going to be good for us was when he stayed and read me poetry after I got ready for bed last night.

Simplicity. Giving up the things I don't need in order to focus on the things that have innate value. People, relationships, and the desires of my heart. These are the things I will be getting back to over the next 39 days. I'm looking forward to it.

More of the one that didn't win

Here is the next section of The Day That I Died:

She drank her coffee with one packet of artificial sweetener and a splash of nonfat milk. The cherub, whom I discovered was actually named Lacy, was sitting beside her with a cup of chocolate milk and a bowl of freshly sliced strawberries. The youngest bundle of sticky human, content on drooling and shocking the room with random shrieks of some emotion I was as yet unfamiliar with, was named Jaime. There we sat in the stiff, quasi uncomfortable silence that comes from being with a person that you think you want to get to know, but are unsure of the best approaches to take.

It was Lacy that eventually broke the ice and got the conversation rolling when she noted, quite seriously, that dogs should not have accidents on the sidewalk because it gets your shoes all icky. A mortified Susan went on to explain that for the past several months a neighbor had let their dog relieve itself in front of their apartment but never cleaned up afterwards.

"Have you spoken to the management about it?" I asked her as I watched Lacy delicately spread her napkin across her lap.

"They put up a small sign. I'm sure you can imagine how well that worked."

"Do you know who the dog's owner is?"

At this her eyes lit up as a mischievous grin spread across her face. "Not yet, but I'm getting closer. I've narrowed down the time just this week. I've been checking the clock for any sign of a deposit and I've discovered that they walk the dog somewhere between 5 and 6:30 every morning. Now I just have to bust them."

"Bust them?"

"Well they can't very well keep doing that, and if no one else is going to help me, then I have to figure out something on my own."

A brief image of the three of them waiting for the perpetrator on their steps in the darkness of the morning flashed before me. Jaime shrieked, pulling my attention back to the table. "I think your helpers might blow your cover."

Her face fell slightly. "I know. Wishful thinking. We all see ourselves differently in our own imaginations I suppose. More capable of adventure or possessing the ability to actually change things."

One small word of doubt from me and she caved completely. This would never do. In that instant I took up her mission, adopting it as my own. By heaven above me I vowed we would end this mess together.

***

"Mags, remind me again what I'm doing here?" The steam from Alex's coffee cup floated towards his face as I pulled him back into the shadow.

"I told you, we're on a stakeout."

"The sun isn't even out yet."

"Indecency thrives in the darkness, Alex."

He stared at me through bleary eyes. "And I'm backup?"

"Backup and muscle."

It was then that we heard the scratch of toenails on the sidewalk. Around the corner came a small brown Dachshund skittering along the pavement led by a middle aged man with an unlit cigar drooping from between his teeth. Alex and I witnessed the violation of the public space and the quick retreat by the man in the tacky velour jogging suit.

"Okay, you take care of that and I'll follow him." My attempted pursuit was quickly halted by my unwilling partner.

"Are you seriously asking me to pick that up?"

"Absolutely. I'll call you when I have an address for the drop."

After much tailgating, shoe tying and general admirations of architecture, I successfully followed him back to his place. I stepped out to the street and called Susan.

"We got him!" I whispered enthusiastically.

"My husband, Rob, doesn't leave for another hour. I'll be right there!" I could hear the excitement in her voice.

A few minutes later Alex, innocuous white box in hand, Susan and I stood inside the stairwell to the offender's apartment. "You have the note?" I asked her.

She grinned, holding up a beautifully elegant envelope monogrammed with a large "S." I proudly took the box from Alex, placing it in her gloved hands.

"Finish it, Susan."

She hesitated briefly as she bit her lip before quickly flitting over to the door where she placed the box and note. After a quick glance behind her and encouraging smiles, she gave three sharp wraps on the door before running back to rejoin the group that quickly dispersed into three unassuming strangers merely going about their morning routines. We each took a round-about route back to Susan's steps.

"My hands are shaking!" She laughed, removing the gloves to prove her point. A quick glance of her watch stole the grin from her face. "I've got to get back now. The kids will want breakfast soon."

"What did your note say?" I asked, hoping to prolong her moment just an instant more.

The smile returned. "It merely stated that I believed he dropped something this morning and I felt it was my duty to return it to his possession. And that he could count on me to continue to do so in the future."

Regardless of what else happened that day, at least she started it with a bit of adventure and an enthusiastic smile.

The One That Didn't Win

This is a short story I submitted for a contest. Sadly, it didn't win. I still had a wonderful time writing it, so I decided to put it out there for others to read. I'll post a little every day. Hope you enjoy.

The Day That I Died

The lights blurred overhead as time seemed to slow. Alcohol mingling with antiseptic vaguely registered somewhere in my sense of smell. Glimpses of concerned faces spun above me, speaking in hushed and hurried tones. The severity of the accident was clearly evident in the team that was now poking and prodding me in a thousand places at once. Slowly, one by one, they began to fade into a thick gray fog where sight and sound ceased.

My name is Margaret Eloise Duncan, and this is the account of the day that I died.

***

Perhaps a bit of back story is in order. It seems somewhat odd to jump into a story at the ending. For me, this story started twelve months ago when I decided to take a loft in the Graystone Apartment complex. I took unit 105, bottom floor on the corner. It was a one room apartment, 100 square feet with the only division in the room being the spiral iron staircase leading to the landing where my full sized mattress was squeezed snugly against the wall. Space was limited, to say the least, but this never bothered me because there was no one else I needed to account for. It was just me and my potato plant, which I had affectionately named Hubert. In lieu of actual furniture, easels and canvasses were propped up in all the available space.

I couldn't consider myself a starving artist, per say, seeing as to how I always managed to rummage up some form of food daily. At times I could concede that I was starving for company, but you would never know it. It was here, in this very loft, that I first caught sight of the young blonde woman in the pristine blue gingham dress pushing a stroller, while pulling along a little cherub with blonde pigtails. I marveled that at noon everyday the three of them would breeze by my window as they made their way to the post office on the corner. You could set your watch by this woman, daily without fail, weekday or weekend.

They happened by me once as I sat under the shade of a white umbrella at the little Italian cafe down the street. They were on their way to the market and the cherub grew louder as they approached. She reached a decibel that made my hearing go temporarily fuzzy. I think the gist of the ruckus was her wanting something and being denied. Some parents just have no control over their children. You would think it wouldn't be that difficult to quickly quiet them when needed. If people are going to have children, they should at least know how to get them to behave.

There I sat, watching a horrible scene unfold before me. The cherub proceeded to lie face down on the sidewalk while the infant in the stroller woke with a vengeance. The noise level completely disrupted the companionable silence of the lunch crowed. No amount of hushing from the frazzled mother seemed to be of any use. Why couldn't she just remove them from the scene so that the rest of us could finish our lunch in peace? Some people are so inconsiderate.

***

One afternoon, I sat at my window painting the thriving routine before me while my friend Alex perused the contents of my refrigerator. It contained a cup of Marion berry yogurt, two half empty take out containers, and a block of extraordinarily moldy cheddar.

"Sheesh Mags, isn't there a market just down the street?" He rummaged through the cabinet, finally deciding on a small bag of pretzels.

"There is, and they have the most wonderful people there that actually prepare meals for you, provided you reimburse them for their service."

He shrugged, deciding that so long as I appeared to be somewhat nourished he was in no position to judge. It was at that moment that the woman and her brood passed in front of my window with severe faces and pristine creases. I checked my watch. Once again, she was right on time.

That very night in the laundry room, everything changed. I have always been told that I possess the gift of invisibility, so I really can't fault her for not knowing I sat in the corner painting a pair of sneakers as her fit began.

"It's ruined," she sobbed as she furiously flung a small white dress back into her hamper. At first, I hadn't even realized it was the same woman. The one that stood before me wore jeans and a t-shirt. Had I not spotted the strand of pearls tucked under the collar I might not have known her at all.

"I'm sure it's not that bad." I offered.

She took a startled step backwards. "I didn't realize anyone was in here."

I walked over, properly announcing my presence and glanced at the supposedly ruined garment. "It looks like flowers to me."

"It's grape popsicle." She frowned. "What was I thinking giving that to her in this dress?"

I laid it out on the table. The spots looked like pansies just waiting to bloom. I grabbed my paint set, hesitating briefly, brush poised. "May I?"

She shrugged her shoulders in defeat. "Oh, why not? It's ruined anyway."

And so I painted, brushing strokes of color onto the empty canvass. Occasionally, a small gasp would escape from her mouth, which she quickly stifled with well manicured fingers. I held up the finished bouquet.

"Oh," she whispered. "It's just beautiful."

"Thank you."

"I'm Susan," she offered her hand with the most exhausted smile I had ever seen.

"I'm Mags." I began to gather my painting supplies and laundry basket containing one blanket, a towel, and a weeks worth of hand painted t-shirts. I think it was something in the way she eyed my brushes, with an expression somewhere between awe and longing, that made me wonder what exactly lay beneath her exterior of motherhood. "Would you like to grab a coffee sometime, Susan?"

"I think I would like that very much, Mags."

And that was how it all began and why, even as I lie here, caught in this place between two worlds, I would gladly meet her all over again for that cup of coffee.

Whirlwind

We buried my aunt yesterday. She died just after midnight Saturday morning. The funeral was Monday afternoon. I'm drinking a glass of sweat tea at my computer desk 172 miles away. The tea was something a thoughtful person brought by for one of the meals provided for the family. Simple acts of kindness are much appreciated.

It seems like this year has been one of loss and sadness. Friends, family, pets....grief is grief and has its own recognizable pain. For me it starts off as a dull ache, like I've been stunned almost. Then sadness comes in waves as the memories from years past suddenly flood to the surface. But I don't get lost there. I don't wallow in the sadness or let the grief consume me. There is this peace that passes all understanding, and unless you have come to the point in your life where you have asked Jesus Christ to have your heart, it is not something I can even begin to explain. But it is there. It surrounds in sadness, comforts in pain. Always.

So now, as the bags remain unpacked, the sweet tea and leftover sandwiches in the fridge, and even the roses on the kitchen bar sit snuggly in a plastic tea carton, I will accept that peace. I will recognize the absurdity of having to go to the store to buy yogurt after everything that has transpired these last few days. But my life, the life of my family, continues. There are people I need to take care of and I will do so. It might mean that I forget to buy the chips for their lunches, and somehow come home with three things of hand soap, but I see it as a way to walk in faith and hope. And reflect on the joy of knowing that decisions and relationships we make here can have eternal significance.