Witch Hunt? Defending the Republican

UPDATE: Friday, August 31, 11:05am Pacific Time: I felt it only appropriate that I apprise you of the fact that I've escaped unharmed, unentraped, and unscathed from the men's room at the Portland Airport -- not once, but twice, today. I went in, stared straight ahead at the wall, did not reach down or near the partitions, and made no advance toward picking up any stray pieces of tissue paper the may have been on the floor. At no time did my hands brush near the bottom of the partition and at no time did I graze, brush, glance off of, nor in any way touch the foot or hand of the person next to me. I did, however, turn around twice to ensure that my bag was still just behind me. And my pupil dialation and pulse were elevated only slightly. I hope that can't be construed in to be searching for sexual fulfillment. I held it as long as I could, but I finally had to go in. Oh, I didn't see any "Police" business cards or ID badges being flashed around either. But I was a little nervous. I guess it's only fair to say that the police could actually have been in there "looking for a little piece of action" too. I mean, everybody needs it from time to time. End of update..........

I don't know about you, but I'm feeling funny. I've just listened to the audio recording of Senator Craig's arrest. I won't defend his political positions....most obviously because I disagree with a majority of them. And he may or may not have a penchant for hot guys like I do. Who cares. But that's not what we're debating here. I have to be honest, this doesn't sound quite right to me. I just feel like there may be some sort of a witch hunt. Possibly not directly targeting the Senator but probably the bathrooms at the airport. I mean, public restrooms do bring on a myriad of interesting situations from time to time, that's for sure (and don't play innocent with me because I know you've all been there at one point or another). It just doesn't sound to me like grounds for an arrest. Unless someone hired the detective specifically to follow the Senator and target him individually. At this point, we'd better all be on our best behavior while wagging the wee-wee at the urinals. I mean, for god's sake, I had a guy showing me his snake in an airport bathroom just a couple of months ago....outright and blatent. Back to the Senator's debacle: No money exchanged, no verbal exchange or conversation, no invitations or verbal solicitations for services to be provided or received, no children were involved, no nothing. The story was full of situations that any of us could find ourselves in. And don't forget our good congress person David Vitter in Louisiana a while back....hired a prostitute but still has his job. I guess that's okay to do. Again, I won't defend the Senator's voting record or his horrible stance on "One Man, One Woman." And I think he's a total dork for defending himself by his "Let me be clear here, I'm not gay" defense....as if that makes it all better. But I speak as a fellow Idahoan who has a vested interest in this story. I've also got a family member who is a Republican State Senator in Idaho -- so my interest in Idaho politics is heightened. But as a defender of basic human rights, I must give pause in a situation that seems to lack clarity to me. We are innocent until proven guilty (well, at least that's the premise I thought we were supposed to be operating under). No sticks and stones, please.

Moon In the Seventh House

You do remember the song, don't you? I set the alarm for 2am and we climbed back into bed in an hour. If you're looking for high-quality, amazing photography, this isn't it. Just a couple of fruitcakes who should have been asleep but wanted to experience something bigger than they were. I kept thinking how quiet it was out, and how the lining of up the hot sun, wild and wacky earth, and Mr. Moon is just an incredible experience. And I remembered the early Apollo missions and how there have actually been people on the moon. As a child, I'd stare and stare -- just knowing that I could see the people walking around their space capsule on the moon. Is it so wrong to dream and imagine?

I can't say enough about the plethora (that's a big word for me, kids) of good will, encouraging emails, and uplifting comments you all have sent me regarding my "Answer in the Sky Post." What's really drawn this whole mess together is the way that you've opened your hearts and minds -- and drawn upon your own experience and pain -- to bring me some good advice. It's also interesting to me that we exist in this blogosphere world, day in and day out, and don't know half of what we could about out fellow bloggers. The internet can be funny that way. And when one of us is suddenly down, the Blogosphere Emergency Services arrive bringing help, advice, and virtual hugs. Your stories are something else. And I know full well it's all about going through an experience, not around. But a girl can have a down day (or six) once in a while, right? To you all, I owe my happiness and thanks. I've actually saved all of the emails and comments and am wondering how I can wrestle them all into a future anonymous post.

Today is a day for the beach (yes, THIS beach or THAT beach). Time to clear my head again. Plus, I usually stop at Burgerville for lunch on the way, so that's not bad incentive either (spicy black bean gardenburger combo with hot fries and Diet Coke....no mayo, only onions, lettuce, pickles, tomato). And, of course, they have the Walla Walla onion rings in season right now. Along with delicious, creamy milkshakes if one should so desire to clog up their arteries (which I do occasionally).

I don't even want to tell you that I've spotted a couple of trees in my neighborhood that have funny colors on them already....a crimson shade of red, bright lemony yellow. Ah oh, I'm afraid it's nearly that time of year again. And, no, the camping isn't going to get done this year again.

And, I can't close withtout laughing and giggling at fellow Idahoan Republican Senator Larry Craig whose politics I've been familiar with for many years. Apparently, his staunch stance on "one man, one woman" actually means "several men, a cop, and one woman." Another of the wide variety of hypocrites whose actions speak louder than their words.

Answer in the Sky

I'm sad. Very sad. I climbed into bed last night and stared. Just looked outside at the night sky through the open window. The crickets were chirping which is one of my all-time favorite sounds. And today, in the supermarket, it hit me. Very. Very. Hard. Answer in the Sky came on, one of Elton John's diddys. And the faucet opened up. Right in front of the cold cereal. And then again in front of the mixed nuts and chips.

Well they say that it's a fact

If you watch the sky at night

And if you stare into the darkness

You might see celestial light

And if your heart is empty

And there's no hope inside

There's a chance you'll find an answer in the sky

Well they say that it's a shame

If you have nothing to believe

And if you can't hold on to something

You might as well die where you sleep

You don't need a prayer

And there's no price to ask why

Sometimes you'll find an answer in the sky

And it's all so much bigger than it seems

And it all overwhelms us now and then

And I'm banking on a chance we believe

That good can still control the hearts of men

Sometimes you'll find an answer in the sky

This life's a long old road

We shouldn't have to walk alone

But if you find the right companion

You won't feel so worn out when you've grown

All life is precious

And every day's a prize

And sometimes you'll find an answer in the sky.

\

It's so unusual for me -- the strong one, the oldest, the reliable rock, the one who is turned to so often. I know the buzz words, the phrases, the right words to say to others....and even hear them inside of my head and heart. It doesn't matter. I must say honestly, my heart is broken. Snapped like a twig at the horribly serious things I have no answers for or ability to fix.

Modesty Is Not My Middle Name

I think that I am gay because of the church. I'll swear it on a stack of gold-foiled edged Bibles getting ready to be used on the latest 700 Club episode. I think it may be their fault and they don't even know it. I don't even think that I knew it. Until I got to thinking yesterday.

Like pretty flowers in the springtime, the 1970s were bursting with relatively new Christian musicians like the Second Chapter of Acts, Keith Green and many others. I was embedded. Deep. Had all of the albums -- in fact, I think that a couple of them may still be hanging out in a box in the basement.

But at the same time that the musicians were traveling far and wide with a whole new era of music for the church, there was an equally vocal group of Christian speakers and teachers who promoted the gifts of the Holy Spirit including speaking in tongues, prophesying, and interpretation of tongues. One of the very first in the United States was Demos Shakarian. And there were others like Charles and Frances Hunter ("The Happy Hunters"). I remember revivals vividly. Year after year. All kinds of emotionally hyped music, preaching and special programs. Hundreds, even thousands, would show up. The place would be packed. We'd start with prayer, the hundred-voice choir, and a solo or two -- and then we'd move through the spectrum of a well-orchestrated service into hands in the air, jumping and shouting. Now, I couldn't jump too high. I knew if I did, they'd know for sure about things that I was hiding. My nicely feathered hair, parted just so and heavy with a lovely sheen of White Rain hairspray, would bounce ever so lightly and go right back into place.

I spent much of my life "on the pew." If the doors were open, I was there. At some point, I ended up being introduced to most of the type of spiritual activities including being slain in the spirit. Now, if you're not familiar with laying on the floor of a church facing up, sometimes your arms up in the air, sometimes speaking in tongues, sometimes crying, let me tell you.....it's quite clearly etched in the space between my ears. Somehow, I got roped into this and that in my church career. And one night, I was the curator of the modesty cloths. What? You've never heard of a modesty cloth? Well, as the preacher would pass along in front of the lines of congregants, he would touch or push on their foreheads and they would, typically, be "slain under the power of the spirit." They would fall backwards to the ground. Another volunteer would follow along behind them and guide them gently and peacefully to the ground.

And that's where the modesty cloths and me would come in. Modesty cloths are a square of cloth much like a small blanket to be placed on the area below a lady's skirt when she is passed out on the ground under the influence of the Holy Spirit. (And, it goes without saying, that if a lady were in church in early days, she'd be in a dress or skirt......never would a pair of trousers be found on a true Christian lady in a past time and place. She wouldn't be wearing jewelry either, but that's another subject entirely.) I would be standing sentry along the sidelines and run out at just the right moment, straddle the legs of the good Christian women, and ever so gingerly place the modesty cloth to keep the pervert males of the first few rows from sneaking a peek.

I can't help believe that those horribly visual and vivid memories turned me from being attracted to women. They keep me awake at nights. What they didn't know, or maybe they did, was that I had no interest in looking. I never tried to look....except away. Actually, now that I'm thinking about it, maybe they knew very well that I was a "safe" person to put into that job. Not only am I not modest today, but -- I go back to my opening sentence -- I believe that I can place blame squarely on my evenings spent straddling the panty hose covered legs of women at the alter with a modesty cloth. I can't help but draw that conclusion. It's not pretty. No wonder I didn't want more.

BOSTON ????

Anybody in Boston and want to have dinner Tuesday?? Just checking.

The Fabric of Our Lives

Just more than 100 years ago, my great grandfather developed what was rumored to have been tuberculosis. At that point in history, people were "sent away" to recover from that and other illnesses. They were quarantined in places for recovery. During his time, he cut out a bunch of quilt pieces. Some were pieced together to make quilts at that point. Others found their way into an old trunk and placed in the basement of my mother's aunt. They were in that trunk and in that basement from the 1940s until not so many years ago. They opened the trunk one eventful day and found all of these pieces stashed away. My mom had some of them quilted together. And this is one of them. If you know your quilting, you'll know that this is a log cabin pattern -- and this one is unusual because the centers are blue instead of the traditional red center. I had asked my mom for this several years ago. She told me that I could have it when she died. (Now, there's a pleasant thought.) But, for my next birthday, it arrived -- in a box, all gift wrapped. I couldn't have been more excited! Today, it hangs above our guest bed. I love it. I show it off. I love it when our past holds hands in peace with our present day. 1905 -- 2007. 102 years.....and still counting. You'll have to be our guest sometime so you can see it for yourself.

Silver Falls State Park, Oregon

Enjoy these shots of one of Oregon's greatest places to let the bright mornings turn into warm afternoon and then evolve into calm evening. Silver Falls State Park is just east of Salem. Miles of hiking, numerous truly incredible waterfalls, camping, picnicking. You can actually hike behind one of the falls while it falls 177 feet in front of you. And you'll see a few of Oregon's claims to fame: Moss and Christmas tree farms (we're the largest producer of Christmas trees in the nation). The whole area was formed out of some sort of volcanic eruption a few years before any of us were around here.

And this Adlai Stevenson quote from Matterdays seemed a perfect fit to the sereneness and beauty of Silver Falls:

Your days are short here; this is the last of your springs. And now in the serenity and quiet of this lovely place, touch the depths of truth, feel the hem of Heaven. You will go away with old, good friends. And don't forget when you leave why you came.

Of Dolls and Purses

Looking back 30-35 years through my middle-aged eyes, I can't believe the virtual countless times in my mischievous growing up years when things weren't quite right. Just a little off. We all write about it from time to time -- and I've done my fair amount of sharing childhood experiences. But as I look around in this horribly progressive year 2007, and see genders from all sides of the fence carrying purses, bags, satchels, man purses, "European Carry Alls" and the like, I am reminded of a deep, dark secret from my very early formative years. Must have been close to 1968, first grade, or so. Now, as I've reminded you often, remember that this was Idaho.

I carried a purse. There, I've said it...and it's out in the open. For the laughter and finger pointing. My mom had numerous purses that she switched back and forth between depending on the season, mood, and outing. (Gentle reminder to all of us, no white after Labor Day.) I don't know if it's one that I borrowed from her, or that she had given to me to play with, but I had it in my possession. Brown vinyl -- well, maybe it was fine Corinthian leather, but I don't think they sold that at Sear's. It had a single compartment with a gold latch right at the top of it. And a nice matching brown handle for carrying. I don't think it was a long enough handle to go over my head and shoulders....so I'm pretty sure I just carried it in my hand. And, at age 5 or 6 and such a short height, it must have damn near reached the dirt road that we lived on. Actually, now that I'm thinking about it, I probably didn't allow it simply to hang in my hand, dangling. I probably clutched that sucker for all it was worth to my chest. Probably partially for fear someone would see it and partially for fear that I'd dirty it if it hit the street.

I remember at least one particular time going over to my friend Mike's house a few blocks away (the only Democrat family I knew in the late 1960s in Boise). I remember the giggles, the "what are you carrying a girl's purse for?" questions, and the "You're a boy....you're not supposed to have a purse." Oh, wasn't I? I was pretending to be a byproduct of the just recently past 1967 Summer of Love. A man of means and progress. And just to prove it......I carried a doll inside the purse. And there was no hiding that when the purse was ripped from my hands by my more butch friend, the latch undone, and dolly.....laying very still, pensive, in the bottom of the purse. I'm sure she was as scared as I was.

I still don't see what the problem was.

Wicked Witch is Dead

With Dorothy and the rest of us watching and hoping, the house has spun around in the tumultuous storm and landed squarely on the back of Karl Rove and F*%&^$ Up Company. His red shoes (blood from oil and other wars soaking through them) just sticking out. Gladly and thankfully. The princess will soon be taking her final bow, the curtains will close, and the stage will be dark. Just like Evita in the final throws. I don't know what Bushy will do now for brains. Unfortunately, I have a feeling that his bed partner Karl won't be as far away as we could hope for. This news can't be better. It could have come a little sooner for my liking. He says that "it's time to start thinking about the next chapter....". No kidding. Some of us knew that a little earlier than others.

The Spirit Meets Jimmi and Dan Variety Cast

Just as Karen Black steered her way perilously through the Wasatch Mountains outside Salt Lake City in Airport 1975, so I pick my way through the tough questions tossed at me by Dan and Jimmi in their latest Variety Cast episode. And Karen's hair has never looked better. She simply wouldn't allow a hole in the side of the 747 to hamper her day.....and neither did I. Enjoy the Variety Cast Here! Thank you, boys, for having me as your guest -- you both behaved as perfect hosts. And I hope that both Karen and I proved well as guests. You're awesome!

Highlights that Shape Your Life

I know that you all saw the word 'highlights" and got all excited that I was going to blog about a new color of Loreal for covering up the roots. I can be that shallow when necessary. But tonight, I'm interested in what are the highlights of things that you've done, or places that you've been, in your life? I know, that's a loaded question. There are births and deaths and all -- those things that shape us spiritually, emotionally, and psychologically -- forever. We could go on and on, but I was just considering those once-in-a-lifetime things that you can recall right off the bat -- the first couple of things that come to mind. You know, the things that hit you over the head and you just know that this is one hell of a special time. A few of mine:

1. The Lion King -- London. I'll never forget the first or last five minutes.
2. Royal Albert Hall -- London. Watching Elmer Bernstein conduct the London Symphony Orchestra in his own 80th birthday celebration. They premiered the music to "Far From Heaven," which he wrote.
3. Berlin Symphony Orchestra -- Berlin
4. Auschwitz-Berkenau Concentration Camps, Poland
5. Sachsenhausen Concentration Camp, Germany
6. Living in Alaska for a short time.
7. Traveling behind the former Iron Curtain (Poland, Russia, East Germany).
8. Aida and Annie on Broadway.

There are more. Many more, now that I'm thinking about it. But the Ambien is kicking in and the sun has set. I'm in Las Vegas the next two nights -- I'll tell Barry hi for you all. Also, my site has been painfully slow to load today for me....anyone else have that same experience? I hope it gets better.

Getting Leid With Big Tears

If you're bored this coming Sunday, you're invited to get leid. Not sure if there's a charge for it or not (but a $20 on the nightstand is always a sign of good gesture). I've already blogged about this place near our house. Seems they are nothing but full of creative ability when it comes to their reader board verbiage. And, hey, if you're not into getting leid, don't worry -- I'm sure there will be something else offered soon. I'll let you know. I'm just plain old happy that they aren't homophobic or selective when it comes to who gets leid.

Is it so wrong to still get all choked up with huge, heavy tears in my eyes, at this? Like a baby, I am. Crew member Barbara Morgan is from my home state of Idaho. A teacher there -- in the small, beautiful lake town of McCall. She was the substitute astronaut for the Challenger mission in 1986. And now, she's orbiting the earth. Go ahead, call me a girly girl if you must.

Ambien Rocks

I've blogged once or twice about our sleeping challenges. We've dabbled in just about everything you can imagine to get a good night's sleep -- short of rolling a joint and puffing on it. We've pretty much achieved it now....with Ambien (just a half pill, please) or Lunesta. It definitely does the trick. Last night, I decided to really live on the edge and take a whole pill....and I always leave out the appropriate dosage for my honey bunny to take. He said, "A whole pill?" I said, "Just take it." So, we're upstairs, checking out Family Guy and we start fooling around a little. Okay, a lot. But, see, here's the problem. I kind of remember the start of things, and even parts of the middle, but that's where it ends. Fade to black. I think I'll go back to the half pill tonight.

You Rock! Nathan has become one of my best friends in the blogging world. He and I have exchanged some great emails, phone calls, and share many of the same ideas. He knows full well that I've had a rough summer...for one of the first times in my life. I've been frustrated, a little depressed (which is very unusual for me), fed up with our society, and just generally been tired and irritable. He asked for my address a while back and said that he was sending me a rock. A rock? Yes, he was going to ship a gratitude rock all of the way from Tennessee to Oregon. I told him that we had rocks here -- that Lewis and Clark (no relation that I'm aware of) had brought them out a few years back. I was sitting here on the computer today when the mailman arrived and slipped the mail through the front door. Ker-Plunk! The package had arrived. You'll see the note and picture attached. He's a dream....a very good friend indeed. And I promise to remember that "my friends and family love me" whenever I look at this nicely polished rock. Thanks, Nathan. I appreciate your friendship and thoughtfulness.

Skype

Do any of you Skype? I've just downloaded it and am interested in pursuing it....for Skypecasts and for talking with those of you in other countries. It's free PC to PC calls. Tell me your experiences and any ideas you have. You can expect to see more from me on this in the future. If you're already a Skype user, you can find me under Spirit of Saint Lewis.

The Princess

Surprise, surprise. I started early in life with the Princess phone. Seems to me that someone should have noticed the trend earlier than they did. They could have saved me a lot of grief.

Today, the princess is off to see an ENT (ear, nose, throat) specialist. I've had one too many bouts with sinusitis this year. It just seems to be not quite right (as if that's a surprise to anyone whose met me).

Begging for Mercy

Anybody in the Boston area? I have an upcoming trip to Boston and am wondering if anyone would care to have dinner....on Tuesday August 28. Just sort of checking it out at this point...how about Seattle tomorrow (August 2) or Las Vegas?

And now onto very serious matters. I have blogged in the past , and again here, about unpleasant family issues going on. You'll see a letter below that I have written to the Prosecuting Attorney who is working against my family member. A number of people, including me, have been asked to write these letters. Basically, begging mercy for her charges to be reduced. I've never had to beg mercy for someone's well being before. It's painful and horrible. Without the reduced charges, she faces serious prison time, loss of job, loss of her home, loss of her daughter. All of that after making such giant strides in her life five years ago to give up alcohol, drugs, and 28 years of horrible living. She has given me permission to publish this letter. She is an amazing and loving lady. We've had to reintroduce ourselves to one another since her sobriety. And now, another mistake has left her with potentially life-altering consequences. All that she had done in the past five years stands ready to be washed down the drain. I'm heartbroken.

Dear Prosecuting Attorney:

I can’t begin to tell you how it has been to have my ____ back. After drinking and drugs, living on the street, holding no job, contributing little to society, and not functioning as an adult in our world, she has made a 180 degree turnaround. You see, I never knew her to be sober much of our growing up life. She started at age nine. And continued in a horrible way until age 38. Our family life was not pleasant because of her actions. She caused us hurt, harm, and -- even -- hatefulness. Life was hell in many ways.

July 2002 brought her to soberness. She was living on the streets of Portland because I wouldn’t allow her to come to my home. “Not until you’re ready to get your life straight” was the rule I held fast to. It broke my heart to tell her that she was not welcome to come stay. But I knew, somehow, that was the right decision. Next thing I knew, she was living in a halfway house and had stopped drinking. I didn’t believe her. 29 years of drinking, and all that comes with it, left me with a bitter and cynical attitude. But, I was proved wrong. Thankfully, I was wrong. It’s one of those miracles that you never expect…especially when it comes to alcohol and drugs. Things seldom get better. People have a hard time getting clean. But she did. She began going to AA meetings, even began hosting a meeting of her own, held down a job at a pizza restaurant after talking the owner into hiring her, and later became one of the managers there. She paid off every fine that she’d accumulated. She made amends with creditors, family members, friends, those she’d hurt or harmed. Even a bus driver! Every one that she could think of, she went back -- face to face -- and asked them to give her another chance and to forgive her. She studied, took up playing the violin again, and began to help others along the same dark path. Her smile brightened again. The years of hard-road living actually began to sort of fall off of her face. She became a beautiful woman, smiling, happy, hard working….and sober. The daughter that she’d not always taken very good care of was finally able to know her mom as a new person. A healthy, contributing parent with a good sense of right and wrong, acceptable and not acceptable. Finally! My niece was going to eventually be able to be back with her mom. Safe and accepted, like every child wants.

My beautiful ____ celebrated her fifth year of sobriety a couple of weeks ago. July 10. I called her to tell her “Happy AA Birthday” and to tell her how proud I am of her. Her accomplishments and for doing what most never do…..try, work hard, succeed, and make something of their broken lives. She did. In a big way. She was asked to speak at various women’s groups and other events. People wanted to know her story. It gave them hope and something to keep trying for. It has been quite a nice adventure getting to know this woman who is my ____. The last five years have been filled with blessings, good times, healthy talk, habits and growth…for our entire family.

I am still trying to make sense of a system that does not reward good behavior. A system that doesn’t appear to be set up to help those who are honestly trying to change their ways. A system that beats down rather than builds up. My ____ has never played the victim. She has faced responsibility, owned up when things are wrong, and never felt sorry for herself. She is now on the brink of losing the only job she’s held this long, the only home she’s ever had by herself, and the only car she’s owned for this long. She is about to lose friends and family. And, probably the biggest loss will be that she is going to be forced to have her beautiful, intelligent daughter come and visit her in prison. I am having a hard time figuring out how that is good for a child. In a country where we claim to want the best for children, and where we want them taken care of, how this can possibly be beneficial for the mental health of an ailing child. You see, her daughter (my ____) has a congenital heart defect. She has already faced one open heart surgery and continues to undergo twice annual medical checkups. Who knows what the future holds for her. But having to go and visit her mother, whose hope is high and whose future is bright, is certainly not what we should be putting our children through.

Everyone makes mistakes. Without exception. Those who own up to them and change their ways should be rewarded, not beaten down and broken further. It is time for all of us to help others succeed. On behalf of myself, my family, my beautiful niece, and my amazing ____, I ask for your mercy for my _____. My eyes are filled with the biggest tears you’ve ever seen right now. It is hard to ask and difficult to see. I’ve never had to ask for mercy on someone else’s behalf. It’s amazing that as we look at the course of each of our lives that we see the ups and downs, the good and bad, the inexcusable and the beauty. All of it. Today, with my heart broken and tears rolling down my cheeks, I ask you to look out for one who is trying, desperately, to succeed and win. She needs all of us right now. To get behind her, not in front of her. To hand her tools to work with, not weapons to tear down. Please, I ask you to help her, not hinder her, at this critical point in her journey. I would hate for this to be the time in her life when she decided it just wasn’t worth it. A woman of wisdom and preciousness is waiting to continue down the path of life. I am asking you to reduce her Felony DUI to a Misdemeanor. The effect this would have on our family is immeasurable. Thank you for your understanding and consideration.

Sincerely and with Expectation,

If you'd like to send her a well wish, I know that she is sucking the life out of every bit of encouragement she can find right now. In the interest of keeping things a little anonymous for the time being, please email me at alewispdx@gmail.com and will print them off and mail them to her.