Delinquent Blogger
Oh my goodness, what happened to me???
This month:
Patty P. visited for the Cherry Blossom Festival during which we saw the most amazing flowers ever and toured the White House gardens.
Neil's aunt Bella visited and so did his cousins and we went to the White House and cherry blossoms with them, too.
We went to New Mexico where we saw my crazy family and it was actually really great. We got to breathe in mountain air, sleep with the window open, see stars in the sky, hang out with good friends over my dad's expertly made margaritas, spend quality time with family, eat green chile, walk on the plaza and basically, I got to feel my feet on the ground where I have roots, recharge my battery and get back on the airplane feeling happy to be going home even if a small part of me also felt like I was leaving home. Of course, we didn't even stop in Albuquerque and we didn't get to visit our old neighborhood or our old offices and co-workers etc. but there's always time to do that when we go back in Sept. for the as-yet-unplanned 10-year high school reunion...augh.
When we returned from NM, our dogs had basically stopped eating and now we have to sit with them for at least 20 minutes at meal time in order to get them to eat. I also returned to massive amounts of stress at work, but what's new. The good part is that the weather has been amazing. When there is blue sky in the morning and I don't have to wear a heavy winter coat, it feels as if the world is full of possibilities.
Right now, Neil's dad is in town and his cousin and her baby are also in town (separate from his dad). So the weekend will be busy with visitors. On Sunday, I am going to the Save Darfur Rally on the Mall. If you don't know about the genocide taking place in Darfur, educate yourself about it.
And finally, a thought from my long walk home from work today. iPods are awesome and amazing, but are they also a way of supressing the human urge to sing along? When people in the 80's carried boom boxes on their shoulders, singing to the music was the norm. But there is something about singing to a song nobody else can hear that is a tad disconcerting -- so most people do not do it. When you are accompanied by background music, you always sound better than when you try to go it alone. So I wonder is suppressing my urge to bust out singing on my daily commute is also making me less likely to sing at other times?
Clearly, I need to think less and get more sleep.
Ciao.
Saturday, April 29, 2006
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
Border
I have been thinking about the border, about Mexico, about immigration since I moved to El Paso in the summer of 2000. Long before there was Sept. 11, before George W. Bush moved into the White House, before there was a national debate about "illegals", I began to ponder what a border really means.
In El Paso, there is a place called Monument One where the border between the U.S. and Mexico stops being a river and turns into a line in the sand marked by white obelisk that span for miles and miles. In some places there are fences, but in other places, the border is literally a line drawn in the sand. Living in a border city, it becomes apparent that the border is not a permanent line, an impermeable wall, something uncrossable like an ocean, it is porous, it is alive and it is filled with ambiguity. I fell in love with the border culture, with El Paso and Juarez and the people who inhabit the strange place where two nations meet. I even fell in love with the ambiguity of living on the border. I met people whose families struggled to make sure they were born in America and could have a better life. I met students who crossed the bridge and passed through customs daily in order to attend an American university. I met an engineer from the University of Michigan who crossed into Mexico daily to work in an auto plant and be around coworkers who spoke the language she loved.
I have two things to say about the immigration debate raging in Congress right now. First of all, why do the people in power suddenly care about this? We have millions of people living in our country and working in jobs that pay too low to attract American citizens. This is not a situation that cropped up overnight. This is systemic. Secondly, how on earth can this great nation of immigrants even consider not letting our neighbors stay? "Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free..." Our country is about freedom, it is about immigrants. Sure, the people who are illegally in our country should go through a process of immigration. And the immigration system should be fixed so that people don't feel the need to risk their lives in order to cross a line in the desert sand. Yes, we have national security issues to worry about, but we cannot build a bubble around the United States. Anyone who has lived on the border will tell you that there isn't a way to make us completely safe. It is never black and white. Laws may make improvements (if they are the right laws), but they cannot change the nature of our borders -- borders in general. Lawmakers need to really think about what they are doing and about what our borders mean and what they are - what our country means and what we stand for.
I have been thinking about the border, about Mexico, about immigration since I moved to El Paso in the summer of 2000. Long before there was Sept. 11, before George W. Bush moved into the White House, before there was a national debate about "illegals", I began to ponder what a border really means.
In El Paso, there is a place called Monument One where the border between the U.S. and Mexico stops being a river and turns into a line in the sand marked by white obelisk that span for miles and miles. In some places there are fences, but in other places, the border is literally a line drawn in the sand. Living in a border city, it becomes apparent that the border is not a permanent line, an impermeable wall, something uncrossable like an ocean, it is porous, it is alive and it is filled with ambiguity. I fell in love with the border culture, with El Paso and Juarez and the people who inhabit the strange place where two nations meet. I even fell in love with the ambiguity of living on the border. I met people whose families struggled to make sure they were born in America and could have a better life. I met students who crossed the bridge and passed through customs daily in order to attend an American university. I met an engineer from the University of Michigan who crossed into Mexico daily to work in an auto plant and be around coworkers who spoke the language she loved.
I have two things to say about the immigration debate raging in Congress right now. First of all, why do the people in power suddenly care about this? We have millions of people living in our country and working in jobs that pay too low to attract American citizens. This is not a situation that cropped up overnight. This is systemic. Secondly, how on earth can this great nation of immigrants even consider not letting our neighbors stay? "Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free..." Our country is about freedom, it is about immigrants. Sure, the people who are illegally in our country should go through a process of immigration. And the immigration system should be fixed so that people don't feel the need to risk their lives in order to cross a line in the desert sand. Yes, we have national security issues to worry about, but we cannot build a bubble around the United States. Anyone who has lived on the border will tell you that there isn't a way to make us completely safe. It is never black and white. Laws may make improvements (if they are the right laws), but they cannot change the nature of our borders -- borders in general. Lawmakers need to really think about what they are doing and about what our borders mean and what they are - what our country means and what we stand for.
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