las meditaciones de victoria

Love & Life - Reflections at 32

I met a young industrialist in the Santa Ynez Valley who donates a portion of his proceeds to charity. I immediately wanted to find out if he speaks Spanish and if he wanted to go on a date. His face is printed in my memory of that lunch, the afternoon I met him at his burrito stand. All he said was, “What can I get for you?” My thoughts went to children, life on a ranch where lovers kiss between the grapevines and beneath oak trees, where women ride horses and children grow up working hard. Where life is about life—it’s straight and clear like the sun rising and setting one time each day.

I have memories of a home on the range. Of amber grain, of diesel trucks and Wrangler jeans, of carpenters that make magic with concrete and construct canopies out of cars, that kayak on Saturday and take chances with the truth; of a man who listens to female vocals and Toots in Memphis and thinks I’m handsome, like architecture or some simple pine cabinet made from the only tree to fall by my chainsaw that summer. I fed him Pepsi as he cut the beams out of one hundred years of growth. I had no tan lines that summer, sunning naked by the stream under the redwoods. Back then I was nubile and young. I was only 20 and ready to marry a mountain man. How different it all would have turned out. I may never have gone to Mexico or lived in LA. I may never have started my business or adopted my dogs. I may never have had my heart broken, only to discover a dream inside. Lying naked in the sun on those warm rocks by the river, I may never have found myself or my life.

Before I take out the stationary to write a note for Santa Ynez, I sit in the innocence of my young self. Instead of slipping back, I clarify and quantify and qualify and can never seem to find myself in love again. He orders a steak. I prefer fish. We laugh. I go home to my house and he goes back to his and I lay down with the big black dog at my feet and the small white one by my ear and the sun sets and we wait for it to rise again.

Maintain Net Neutrality—Get our reps on the phone today!

Do you want your dial-up back? Are you ready to give up the relative ease with which you can click a button and watch that interview you missed last Wednesday on the Colbert Report? How would you feel if your Internet service provider charged you extra to send emails at high speed? Can you imagine a world where Fox News, MSNBC, and CNN were the only news websites available on the Web? The Internet as we know it just may be coming to an end for the ordinary citizen.

Unless you fall under the categories of corporation, special interest group, or major advertiser, the quality of service and diversity of content you’ve grown accustomed to on the Internet is at stake. The future includes preferential treatment that costs money—and that’s more money than you or I can afford. Legislation that preserves network neutrality, or equal service to all Internet customers, is threatened. Phone and cable companies hope to alter what is currently operated as a public trust by turning the Internet into a private investment. Their lobbyists are in Washington now, engaged in a take-no-prisoners campaign to weaken national communications policy laws. Not only does that mean that the conveniences I enjoy today on the Internet may not be available to me in the future—like the new Bruce Springsteen album I downloaded today—it means all the content I rely on for my research and work, alternative media like Democracy Now! and blogs like Daily Kos, could all be relegated to a slow lane of service, or simply shut out, unless they are able to pony up the same amount as the large media conglomerates outbidding for my hits. 

At SAVE THE INTERNET.COM, you can join a coalition of grassroots organizations, bloggers, and concerned citizens that have come together to preserve Internet freedom. There you can link to your congressperson or senator and speak out now before net neutrality becomes a thing of the past.

We Shall Overcome

In the Calendar section of Friday’s LA Times, Richard Cromelin criticizes Bruce Springsteen for “declining the opportunity to add his voice to the rising chorus of pop music that’s commenting on current events” in his new album, “We Shall Overcome: The Seeger Sessions.” This tribute album contains 13 songs associated with Pete Seeger, including a reinterpretation of “We Shall Overcome.” The front page of the Calendar also features Neil Young’s new album, “Living With War,” a collection of songs that directly assail the President and explicitly call for his impeachment. 

Artists like Neil Young face an uphill battle in the post-ClearChannel world and the chances that his songs get through the ClearChannel censors are slim. Neil knows that, but he’s fed up and he’s choosing to keep on rocking in the ex-free world. I think Richard Cromelin has overlooked the brilliance of Bruce Springsteen’s choice to both leave Seeger’s most confrontational work out of the tribute and to refrain from direct commentary on the War and Bush. As a result, we may actually hear music from the new album on the radio. 

In all the anti-war rallies I’ve attended, at some point I’ve had the urge jump on stage, grab a microphone and start leading the crowd in “We Shall Overcome.” It’s a simple song that moved millions through the civil rights marches of the 1960’s. It was translated into Spanish and encouraged farmworkers to keep moving as they marched the 340 miles along California’s Highway Five to the State Capital of Sacramento during the grape strikes. It was sung in South Africa in the later part of the anti-apartheid movement and in the 1980’s was translated in Hindi and became a patriotic song in India. A new version from The Boss needs to be heard on the radio because it may be just what we need to give us hope. Hope for freedom. Hope for brotherhood and sisterhood. Hope for unity. Hope for an America without fear. Hope for an America without war. Hope that we shall overcome someday.

Certain Fear

Today’s 100^th anniversary pictures of the 1906 San Francisco earthquake remind me of the terror of an earthquake’s wrath. After experiencing several earthquakes, including San Francisco in 1989, I often wonder why a fear of earthquakes is absent from my daily life. I don’t worry when the ground will open up beneath me, or what I would do if a tree or nearby building were to fall. Instead, I fear suicide bombings and our President. I fear resentment and the United States’ role in upsetting the entire Middle East. I fear retribution and events that will inflict suffering on both Bush supporters and those of us who have been anti-war since September 11, 2001.

I knew someone at the World Trade Center that day, my twin sister’s good friend Felicia. All that is left of her now are memories. Like the cold Brooklyn morning when I couldn’t get out of bed, the heaviness of my early twenties particularly burdensome. Instead of trying to pull me out of my weariness, Felicia hung out with me under the covers, sharing stories and laughing instead of getting me up and about as we had planned. There was also one night when she and my sister were visiting my apartment in Washington Heights. I asked them to pick up some salmon for dinner at Citarella’s. “Be sure to get enough” I implored. They picked up an entire salmon, head and all, and we laughed all night crafting stories we were supposed to enjoy for years to come. Stories about how they transported the fish all the way from 72^nd to 181^st street on the subway and across Bennet Park, only to discover that under no circumstances would a creature that size fit in my oven.

Looking this morning at pictures of San Francisco leveled 100 years ago, I remember Felicia’s face among the thousands, her picture held up by her husband for a news camera to see. I know why I don’t fear earthquakes yet continue to live in fear of new terror attacks. I believe there is an uncertainty to fault lines and plate tectonics that doesn’t match the inevitability of terror created by the war in the Middle East. As a nation, we’ve taken sympathy from around the world and manipulated it into a conquest for oil and territory in the name of victims like Felicia. The recent report that George Bush now feels it is his legacy to overthrow the government of Iran is a clear picture of what we can expect under his leadership – a future filled with fear of retribution.

I Need a Miracle (or a Life!)

I spent last week in New York for business. On Thursday evening I was heading down Broadway, my target—Amy Goodman. I was going to see her for the first time, hoping to steal a moment after her presentation where I could hand deliver a letter with information about my new website, The Daily WIP.

At 74^th   Street I passed a mass of Deadheads doing the dead walk up and down the block in front of the Beacon Theater. Ratdog was in concert through the weekend. My feet were aching inside my inexpensive heels and my body was perspiring over previously dried layers of sweat, all intensified by the synthetic material of my work outfit. I barely glanced at the dirty locks meandering across the street, silent fingers waving in the air—the universal Dead declaration for “I need a miracle.”  In other words, a free ticket. My computer bag, tugging at my shoulder, held the neatly typed letter I had stored in a secure compartment alongside my Dell. I thought to myself, “Those fools don’t need a miracle, they need a life!” I’m not sure what kind of life I wished upon the concert-goers lying in wait outside the Beacon. It couldn’t possibly be the isolated, lonely, wrought with insecurity, coupled with ego-mania, world I live in.

Amy Goodman’s presentation at PS 199 horrified me with statistics, like how the Clear Channel monopoly on our airwaves actually has obscene policies that prohibit any radio station from airing songs that contain the world “WAR.” After the presentation, I placed the letter in Amy’s hand, smiled, and unknowingly prayed for a miracle of my own when I begged her to read it.

It was well after nine and it was the end of an exhausting New York day. I decided to treat myself to Josie’s up on Amsterdam, but the place was so busy that I was banished to the sidewalk with an oversized beeper that was intended to notify me of an open table. While standing out there, I realized the entire block to the north of Josie’s was the side wall of the Beacon Theater. I walked toward a doorway that only opened from the inside and realized I could hear the music through the crack in between door’s two panels. I closed my eyes and my body slipped into that old feeling of getting lost in drum space. I danced slow enough to remember how long it’s been since Jerry died.

The sound of the side door opening shook me out of my brief trance and a man ran out of the theater. I quickly jumped through the space in the wall just before the door slammed flush against the concrete. I took the beeper and stuffed it in my purse and ran down to the stage just in time for New Speedway Boogie.

One way or another this darkness got to give…and I promised myself to never again stop believing in miracles.

The Voices of Immigration Reform

versión en español abajo

On CNN last night Anderson Cooper interviewed an advocate from an anti-immigration organization while Mexican flags were being burned in the background. The synthetic material didn’t burn easily, as the guest told Anderson how immigrants adversely affected America's poorest. Men advertising hate on their clothing doused the red, white, and green in gas and attempted to light fire again and again to the serpent and the eagle of Mexico's flag. This activity replayed over and over during the Cooper broadcast, recasting in my mind images of the KKK burning crosses and using dominance and intimidation to assert white supremacy.

In Sunday’s Times, op-ed contributors Steven Clemons and Michael Lind argued that “the U.S. needs chip designers, not tomato pickers,” and that as result of immigration policies, we are losing in what they refer to as “the brain race.” Nicholas D. Kristof argued, also in Sunday’s Times, that guest worker programs hurt America's poor. He cited a statistic that only 4 out of 10 agricultural workers are in fact immigrants. I can only speak for California, but I encourage Mr. Kristof to take notice of where the next head of lettuce, bunch of broccoli, artichoke or strawberry he consumes is from, and then drive through our Central Valley and discover for himself a sea of immigrant farmworkers feeding him. Having grown up near the Salinas Valley, I wonder who would pick those tomatoes if it weren’t for immigrant farm workers. In my 32 years, in spite of rampant unemployment, I have never seen a white American stooped over a field in the blinding sun, face covered with a bandana, a feeble effort to avoid ingesting pesticides.

The most exciting prospect on the horizon is that this draconian legislation has motivated a body that will vote someday. Here in Los Angeles and around the country, the usual reports of failing schools and student dropout rates have yielded to a movement of students walking out of their classes in alliance against a repressive legislation that labels their family members criminals and terrorists. There is an overwhelming sense at the rallies that people who spend every day in fear of deportation, or fear that their parents and family members will be deported, have discovered their power in this democracy and are no longer afraid to stand up and demand dignity and respect.

Again, I appreciate Cardinal Mahoney’s reminder at Monday’s rally to anyone who has forgotten, “We are America, the nation of immigrants seeking a better life for ourselves and our children. We are all God’s children, united for a just immigration reform.”

The Voices of Immigration Reform - versión en español

La noche pasada Anderson Cooper entrevistó en el canal de CNN a un defensor de una organización contra los inmigrantes, mientras que a la misma vez se mostraban imágenes de las banderas mexicanas que estaban siendo quemadas. Cuando el entrevistado le decía a Anderson cómo los inmigrantes afectan a los más pobres de los EE.UU., se podía ver que el material sintético de la bandera no se quemaba fácilmente. Los hombres, quienes llevaban ropa con logotipos que promovían el odio contra los inmigrantes, le echaban gas al rojo, al blanco, al verde, a la serpiente y al águila que forman parte de la bandera mexicana. Todo esto se podía ver una y otra vez durante la transmisión televisiva de Cooper, lo cual me hizo recordar imágenes de KKK quemando cruces para promover un ambiente de dominación e intimidación para acertar la supremacía blanca. 

En la edición del domingo del New York Times los colaboradores de la sección editorial, Steven Clemons y Michael Lind, arguyeron que “los EE.UU. necesitan diseñadores de chips para computadoras y no recogedores de tomates”. Continuaron diciendo que como resultado de las medidas inmigratorias, este país está perdiendo lo que ambos editores calificaron como “la raza inteligente”. Por su parte, Nicholas D. Kristof dijo que el programa de trabajadores temporales no ayuda a los más pobres de este país. Citó estadísticas que solamente 4 de 10 personas que trabajan en la agricultura son realmente inmigrantes. Invito al señor Kristof que indague quién cultivó la lechuga, el brócoli, la alcachofa o la fresa que consume y después le invito que maneje a lo largo del valle central de California y que así descubra que la gran mayoría de inmigrantes campesinos son quienes trabajan la tierra. Soy de los alrededores del Valle de Salinas y me pregunto quién recogería los tomates si no fuera por los inmigrantes campesinos. En mis 32 años de vida, y a pesar de haber estado desempleada por mucho tiempo, nunca he visto a un americano blanco agachado en los campos, con un sol enceguecedor y la cara cubierta con un pañuelo procurando no aspirar los pesticidas. 

El prospecto más interesante en el horizonte es que esta legislación ha motivado a una porción de la población a que algún día vote. En Los Ángeles, y a lo largo de todo el país, los reportes usuales sobre las malas escuelas y estudiantes que abandonan sus estudios han cedido el paso a reportes sobre estudiantes que abandonan sus aulas para apoyar el movimiento contra la legislación que identifica a sus padres y miembros de sus familias como criminales y terroristas. Ha habido un sentido abrumador por parte de los inmigrantes, que viven con temor a ser deportados o a que se deporte a algún miembro sus familias, que ahora han descubierto su poder en esta democracia y ya no tienen miedo de confrontar y demandar dignidad y respeto. 

Otra vez, aprecio las palabras del Cardenal Mahoney en la protesta del lunes pasado: “Somos América, una nación de inmigrantes, buscando una vida mejor para nosotros y nuestros hijos. Somos todos hijos de Dios unidos por una reforma de inmigración justa”.