Sad Day for Truth

I was shocked when I logged on to CNN earlier today, learning that Tim Russert had died. He had become a part of my Sunday mornings, doing an incredible job not only at neutrality, but also at asking the necessary questions to uncover the truth behind things---and people. It's a huge loss for NBC, of course, but it's a loss for the rest of us too. He was a journalist of amazing caliber, and I'm grateful to have benefited from his reporting and interviews.

A Day in Memphis

With less than three weeks, I'm trying to get in my last few sights and places here. Today, after spending a little time on the computer refining my article a little more, I headed out for two of those stops.

First up was lunch at Gus's Fried Chicken. Last July, out on my first (and one of, sigh, only a few) dates here in Memphis, we drove past this place, and Chris told me they made the best fried chicken anywhere there. I begged to differ, explaining that my mother made the best fried chicken, but that since she didn't have her own restaurant, I could accept that perhaps Gus's had the best fried chicken available for sale. Also, one of my students, upon hearing I was leaving and me asking, "What must I do before leaving Memphis?" said, "You've gotta eat at Gus's."

Indeed, it's good chicken. Spicy, but good. The sides are not the, to me, typical sides for southern fried chicken. I don't even remember mashed potatoes as an option! And there were no biscuits or rolls---just white bread. But yes, the chicken was good. (not at good as Mom's, though.)

I got there before noon, hoping to beat the lunch crowd, but with only about 80 total seats in the place (about 22 tables), they were full. It wasn't long before I had a table, though, and I enjoyed my book I'm reading while I waited for my food. It was a bit awkward sitting there, so close to the door, at my table for four while a line waited for a table. But I felt even more awkward inviting strangers to dine with me. But as I finished, I went ahead and splurged for a slice of pie. Before that came, two gentlemen came in, looked around, and one walked over to my table and asked if they could join me. "Sure," I said. It made sense to me. As Jeff noted, and as I had thought, that's the way they do it in Europe. We chatted a little, but I also read some more, enjoyed my pie (coconut, but oddly enough, not coconut cream; I was totally expecting coconut cream), then headed on. I had more to see.

Next stop was, finally, the National Civil Rights Museum. I had tried twice before to make it here, but both times they were closed or just about to close. Honestly, though, I'm glad I went alone. I've learned, in my on-my-own travels, that I really enjoy going through places like that at my own pace---experiencing, feeling, thinking, all without feeling rushed.

It was a wonderful exhibit. In all, I spent about three-and-a-half hours there, slowly making my way through the exhibits, listening to the audio and reading the displays. I learned a lot. And I wondered a lot.

I grew up hearing a lot about race. Sadly, a lot of it---the bulk of it---was phrased negatively. For the most part, it was subtle, but at times, some folks had some outright overt racist comments to make. I didn't get it then. Heck, I still don't get it now. Okay, so they grew up in different times. And granted, I don't know if I could have the courage to do the things the amazing people did in the Civil Rights Movement activities. But still . . . .

As I learned more today about the bus boycott and the freedom rides and the marches than I ever had before (and why the hell didn't I learn about those things when I was in school?! Sure, it was only twenty or thirty years old then, but seriously?), I couldn't help but wonder about people in my family. My parents were high school then college age during the middle of it all. What impact did these things have on my parents, aunts, uncles . . . ? My grandparents . . . well, they all did grow up in a very different time. I know their views; they never were shy about saying them. I tried to cringe without it being obvious when they did so.

But I wondered too about today's children. I know racist attitudes are still alive. Kentucky, after all, showed us that. I don't understand, of course, how a person is not treated like a person. It pains me with a depth a cannot explain. But I guess that's a good thing---that pain.

Could I have done those things? I don't know. I do speak up for gay rights when I hear challenges. I do speak out against discrimination and oppression. Those are, though, all only words. But words are important too; I must remember that.

Back to the exhibits. The museum is built in what was once the Lorraine Motel---the place where Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated. The exhibit begins in 1619 and takes us through the entire movement through to 2001, when the addition across the street was added.

As part of the exhibit, you walk through what used to be one of the rooms of the motel, able to view into what his room looked like on that day--April 4, 1968. You can see out the window to the balcony where he was shot. It's a powerful view.

The exhibits take you through the bus boycott, the marches, the freedom rides---putting faces to names, struggles, ideas, and freedom. There were times it was tough to read some things. But read them, I had to.

As I took my time going through, there was another single working his way through. Every once in a while we'd share a comment. He's the one who told me to take a seat on the bus---the replica of the one Rosa Parks was on. When you sit, you hear the driver yell at you to move. That's something.

From the outside of the museum, you can see the balcony where Dr. King stood before that shot. They keep a wreath there; one was placed there very shortly after his death. And they keep the view as it was that day.

Across the street, they've added more to the exhibit. Here, they have re-created the room of the boarding house where they allege James Earl Ray stayed as well as the bathroom where he was to have (allegedly) fired the shot from. Also in this part, they've laid out the conspiracies and ideas about who did it. Who did? I have no idea. Sure, the evidence looks like Ray. But I find it hard to believe it was his idea.

(Walking through there, I was reminded of walking through the book depository museum in Dallas, and I wished I'd spent more time there reading the information. (but I wasn't alone, and with kiddos in tow, it's hard to spend that much time like that. I'll just have to go back.))

As a last part of the exhibit, they have things set up showing progress. One part shows the number of female high school athletes compared between around 1970 and 2000. Amazing. One part compares the number of black persons holding elected offices in 1960 compared to 2000. Yep. So who knows: maybe they can add to that in a few months, adding the first black president.

Yes, of course, I couldn't help but marvel at my timing for finally making it to this museum, this monumental and historical week. Have we come far enough for this to happen? Are there too many people who share the views that were expressed in the exit polls of the Bluegrass state? Of course, the scariest thing is that I know only a few people would really tell a stranger that they cast their vote for a white person strictly because they refused to vote for a black person. What about all the people who didn't admit it? Yes, in those words used so many years ago, we shall overcome, but can we overcome this year?

The museum was moving. And incredible. And awesome. The visit there was emotional. And heart-wrenching. And inspiring.

As people in California plan to marry the person they love, and as my nieces are able to view their futures with the knowledge that yes, they can be anyone they want to be, and as my friends in an interracial relationship are not barred from that by law, I am hopeful. But more than that, I am incredibly, humbly, forever thankful for those people who had the courage. For those people who boycotted. For those people who marched. We do still have paths to travel and ground to cover. But we have started. And yes, some have been to the mountaintop.

Purlie

With only a few weeks left here, I would like to take these last weeks to get by the places I've not made it to yet in Memphis. But along the way, I'll use up the rest of my season tickets to Playhouse on the Square.

This afternoon, I caught the afternoon showing of Purlie. What a treat!

The show is a musical with great music and even greater depth. One summary wraps it up as follows:
It is set in an era when Jim Crow laws still were in effect in the south. Its focus is on the dynamic traveling preacher Purlie Victorious Judson, who returns to his small Georgia town hoping to save Big Bethel, the community's church, and emancipate the cotton pickers who work on oppressive Ol' Cap'n Cotchipee's plantation. With the assistance of Lutiebelle Gussie Mae Jenkins, Purlie hopes to pry loose from Cotchipee an inheritance due his long-lost cousin and use the money to achieve his goals. Also playing a part in Purlie's plans is Cotchipee's son Charlie, who ultimately proves to be far more liberal than his Simon-Legree-like father and saves the church from destruction with an act of defiance that has fatal consequences.

The music was wonderful, and the two female leads were just amazing--such rich sounds they could sing! The second male lead, well, at first I was puzzled; he seemed familiar. Finally, during intermission,. I read the program and realized he'd played the dual role of Montel & Jesus in Jerry Spring, The Opera.

Anyway, back to the show. It had a lot to say about race and issues of past & issues that remain today. Some of the lines made me want to cry, knowing the awful truth of our country's past that was behind the humor and singing. Still, I suppose it also says a lot about where we've come to have the show as it is. (Of course, having looked at the exit poll information from Kentucky, goodness do we still have a long way to go.)

Thanks again to You Tube, you can see and hear a few clips from the very stage that I saw today! Unfortunately, you don't get to hear Missey sing Down Home; that was truly an amazing performance.

You Cannot Vote After the Polls Close

I'm so tired of the rhetoric around the Democratic nominee. No doubt, most everyone else is too. Yesterday, I listened to several different talk radio shows while running around town, and I heard what I thought was the best response to "every vote counts."

Now to say, Hillary Clinton is my second choice. And in March 2007, I said, when asked, that I planned to vote for Obama in the primary and Clinton in the general election. I (like most everyone else) never foresaw what's happened this spring.

But to continue the Florida and Michigan issue beyond yesterday or to try to use "fuzzy math" on the "popular vote" needs to end. I just watch Harold Ickes on Meet the Press, and I could feel my blood pressure rise as I listened to the goofiness of continuing this past Wednesday. Surely this will end then.

Anyway, back to the "your vote counts" shouts to Florida and Michigan voters by the Clinton campaign recently, as I've frustratingly said for months, they agreed! You must follow the rules! Of course, that's what all the talk show hosts have said (even being as neutral as they can). Still, deaf ears. Yesterday someone, and I don't know who, put it this way:

Yes, every vote counts. And that's important. But if a vote is going to count, it has to be cast under the agreed-upon rules governing that election. for example, if your polls close at 7pm, and you show up to vote at 8pm, your vote WILL NOT count. period. It is not an issue that the late voter should not count, it's an issue that the vote was not cast under guiding rules.

I extend this analogy with this thought: if one state decides to hold its general election on November 20, no doubt, that state's votes would not be able to have an impact. Here, it'd not be about the people failing to follow the rules, but that state. And the people of that state would have to hold those who made that decision accountable.

Seating the FL and Michigan delegates and giving them half votes is the best that can be done---and much more than is warranted. I understand, of course, the need to do it.

But seriously, let's drop it now and move forward.

A Supreme Argument

I am not a regular viewer of Boston Legal, even though I've always been entertained by the show. I guess it's just not one that I ever felt required continual watching, so I catch it when I can. But I missed this particular one last month.

The show recently stepped into the United States Supreme Court--at least that as portrayed on the show. But the show did an amazing job at finding good look-alike actors for the roles of the Justices, even if they did give Justice Thomas a line. (he very rarely speaks.)

Aside: Earlier this semester, I had my Remedies students read the argument from a day before. (it's amazing that you can get a transcript of a US Supreme Court argument the afternoon that it occurs.) The case was the Exxon Valdez case on punitive damages (yes, that long ago and it was just argued this spring.) (interestingly, James Spader's character references that case in the show.) My students were studying the prior case about excessive punitives, and I was able to have them play the roles of attorneys presenting the arguments and the justices so they could see the real arguments as made. It was really cool, if I do say so myself. Anyway, we all chuckled when we realized that indeed, Justice Thomas had no "lines" in the transcript/script.

Back to the show . . . The character, Alan Shore, makes an argument to the Supreme Court, arguing a case interestingly similar to an actual US Sup. Ct. case that was argued April 16 this year, Kennedy v. Louisiana. Now, for show purposes, Shore is quite dramatic. ANd I cannot imagine an attorney before the Court ever saying some of the thing that he says. But man, what an argument! For the times I don't so eloquently state why I care about who our next president is, a lot of this comes up in his argument. It's long, though---about 10 minutes or so.

(And for anyone who had no idea about appellate arguments before and were so confused about my life before teaching, while yes, this is dramatic and the content of the political aspect of what he says is far-fetched, still, it's a pretty good idea of an appellate argument in the sense of what goes on (not what is said). You have one attorney speaking to many justices, begin interrupted on the spot with questions, discussions, etc. It's when the justices and attorney should be able to have a conversation about the issues. At least that's what I tell my moot court students.)

In Case You Missed It . . .

Top Ten Surprising Things about Barack Obama (from David Letterman on May 1)

#8---too funny! :-)



But now I feel a little need to remind anyone that this was on late night television! I have a colleague who apparently took everything Michelle Obama said on Steven Colbert as absolute truth. Oh dear, that's almost (almost) as bad as a relative of mine spouting off about Barack Obama's religion---having heard falsities on the radio.

Sigh.

Can we not find our sense of humor . . . and sensibilities?

Happy Independence Day

To Texas!

Naturally, then, I flew my Texas flag today.

I also finally got my Obama sign up in the yard. ME! A political sign in my yard. Not only is that a first, but I also have, for the first time, contributed to a campaign. Barack now emails me pretty regularly, and most recently he's been asking me to make phone calls. Come on now, I've just now for the first time given money and put a sign in my yard. (I ordered shirts too, but due to overwhelming demand, they're on backorder.) Who knows, though, maybe I will make a call or two before Tuesday.

But even if I don't call, I will, at least, type: vote on Tuesday, Texas. (I can tell you, personally, that the Obama yard sign with my Texas flag waving in the background looks awesome--quite a nice match.) So my urge: Obama for President. Prefer red and the elephant side? Well, McCain's a given. Make this a decent race. Vote Obama anyway. In Texas, you can do that.

Not a Theme---I Promise

I couldn't resist writing about this. And I had no intention of doing so--really. It's just what's on the local news.

I like to check the website of my local NBC affiliate to catch up on local news. The site has four top stories highlighted with photos and brief descriptions of the stories. Today's really caught my eye.

First, there was a story about a fourteen-year old elementary student today who was found with a handgun in his backpack. The story relates that the student will likely be expelled and sent to an alternative school. By the way, the handgun was reported to be unloaded. (Yes, I too wonder about an elementary student who's fourteen, but it can happen.) The child was arrested and charged with carrying a gun on school property. (this, the same day I received a moving mailing about 13- and 14-year-olds sentenced to life in prison with no opportunity for parole.)

Anyway, the next story up: Our dear mayor has announced that all junior high and high schools will have metal detectors installed.

I want to know one thing: who's in charge of updating our mayor on what's going on in the elementary schools?

Aside from that, though, it's sad. Still, we've had two shootings in eight days in schools in the Memphis City School system. One school board member this morning called for all schools to be shut down until safety can be assured.

Memphis. Sigh.

Pistol Packing in SD . . . in Class?

According to a news source (I no longer link to outside sources; sorry), it seems as if the South Dakota legislature is trying to make it possible for concealed guns to be allowed on university campuses. (Currently, the proposed bill died in a committee, but some are trying to override this committee action.) The initial reaction from many is “heavens, no!” We don’t want people carrying guns on campus—legally!

Now, even given my stance on guns (see here (I will link to my own stuff)), I realize the above thoughts initially miss the point. As most all studies show, it’s not the people who carry guns legally who cause the most alarm. When someone goes through the process of obtaining and maintaining a concealed-carry permit, this person is probably a little more stable than the person who goes on the rampage we’ve seen in the past.

But not always or in all circumstance.

Consider law school, as just one example.

In law school, people who start out as mild-mannered, in control people don’t always wind up there. This is the first time many of my students have ever dealt with what is, in their eyes (and those of their family members), a sort of failure. And this is not just the people who actually fail. I’m talking about the people who, for the first time in their lives, make a C. Or some, even a B-. This is quite common in law schools all across the country. And those are not people I want thinking that it’s perfectly fine to walk into my class with a concealed weapon.

Consider also the student I call on—perhaps, for one, it’s the first time the student is called on during law school. Although I consider what I’m doing “asking questions,” my students call it “grilling” (especially as I wait patiently for them to work through some legal analysis to get to the answer, having to apply a just-understood law to a whole new factual scenario). This is someone who’s perhaps under the most stress this poor little 23-year-old has ever dealt with. Again, this is not someone I want carrying a concealed weapon, even legally. The stress level and immaturity are both cumulative. Add a weapon, and the hat trick might lead down a scary path.

Or consider the student who, if she has one more absence in my class, will not graduate. Period. Is this a person I want, when she gets that news from me after she next misses class then reappears, to think it's fine to have a weapon on her (if she has a permit to carry concealed) . . . after she’s spent the last five or six years pursuing this degree? Not really.

And so, while I agree with the initial reaction we should have concerning concealed carry permits and the general person who gets them, I think putting them in the hands of people this young who are at an unbelievably stressful time in their lives is a mistake.

(This does not even address the issue of universities being prevented from letting family know if a student has become mentally unstable--an area I plan to write about next fall perhaps.)

I had said I was open as to where I taught. Not so sure I couldn’t mark South Dakota off the list. This would give a whole new meaning to the “Badlands.”

-------------------------

Related: today thirty-one states, led by Texas (not surprisingly), filed a brief in support of the respondent, Heller, in the Supreme Court case to be heard next month. The basic argument raised by those states is that the handgun ban in DC should receive strict scrutiny review—a review type that hardly ever works well for legislation prohibiting something. For the constitutional right to be infringed upon, there must be compelling state interest,” the law must be narrowly tailored, and the law has to be in the least restrictive means to get that interest met.

Now here’s where it gets interesting. Thirty-one states are part of this Texas group. Fourteen states have chosen to remain neutral, and five states have joined up with DC. A fellow prof broke it down:

Of the 31 pro-Heller states, 26 voted for George W. Bush in the 2004 Presidential election, while five (Michigan, Minnesota, New Hampshire, Pennsylvania, and Washington) voted for John Kerry.

Of the 14 "neutral" states, five (Arizona, Iowa, Nevada, North Carolina, and Tennessee) voted for Bush, while nine (California, Connecticut, Delaware, Illinois, Maine, Oregon, Rhode Island, Vermont, and Wisconsin) voted for Kerry.

And all five of the pro-D.C. states (Hawaii, Maryland, Massachusetts, New Jersey, and New York), as well as the District of Columbia itself, voted for Kerry in 2004.

Interesting indeed.

Now, I am a huge supporter of our constitutional rights—trust me. (This is where I first really figured out I was not the conservative I thought I was.) Still, I am uncomfortable with where this could go, which, no doubt, is why we’ve not had a true Second Amendment case in so very long. But I'm also horribly uncomfortable with constitutional rights being infringed.

And so, the real question: just how much of a constitutional right is it to have a handgun. I know, I know---it seems obvious that it's part of the 2A. But do we extend that to an interpretation that we have a constitutional right to have assault rifles? I'll repeat my phrase from above: heavens, no! (please no.) Why on earth would anyone need a machine gun? But if the right is there for a handgun, why not for other firearms?

Ah, we must wait until June for the first round of answers.

The Morning After

Super Tuesday took a backseat to weather yesterday in Tennessee. The weather folks broke into TV programming at 4:30, and they broadcast continuously until past the time I finally gave in and went to sleep at 11.

As for the weather, it’s been bad, and yes, that’s an understatement. The last death toll I saw was 44, with possibly more reports coming in. That accounts for the storms that hit from Arkansas through Mississippi, Alabama, Tennessee, and Kentucky. The storm that hit while I was in the basement is the one that hit the shopping mall in SW Memphis and took about two lives. It was a different cell that moved up to Jackson, TN and trapped the students in the dorm there.

On the one side, the storms didn’t hit here until after 4:30. Thus, there was no need in hindsight to close schools early. But they knew this was going to be big. I cannot find fault with those decisions.

And as always, talking to people out of the area brings some interesting things. One friend from the north said that what we were experiencing here “must be the milder version” of the heavy snowfall they had—ours was just rain and wind. Ahem. Milder? Tornados? Granted, to be fair, they were expecting possible record snowfall in a twenty-four hour period. But milder?

I talked to another yesterday, and when asked how I was, I responded, “Good. It’s finally quieter around here; we just had several tornados around.” The response was “oh, yes, they forecast rain for us too.” The conversation then was taken to the topic of the need for rain in that area and what the weather forecast was. Yes, indeed, let’s make this all about you, forgetting the t-o-r-n-a-d-o-s that hit here. Sigh.

In the light of day, the weather service will be out figuring out how many twisters there were and their relative strength. Insurance guys, no doubt, will be very busy in the area for weeks to come. It’s sad and devastating for so many people. But I am so grateful for our warning systems and sirens. (The sirens in my county screamed for almost two hours straight between 4:45 & 6:45 then again from 8:45 until 9:15.)

As for here last night, it was an odd night for me---quite surreal. I wanted to stay on the weather coverage, but as soon as we left the basement, I also wanted to know about results coming in from around the country.

For almost a year, I’ve said that I would vote for Obama in the primary and Clinton in the general election. At this point, though, I might be casting another vote for Obama come November!

The delegate count is interesting to watch. I’m frustrated with the Super Delegates, though. Will they really think about electability in November? Or is it just a chance for some face time? And of course, these delegates are why it’s about to be mathematically impossible for anyone but McCain to get the republican nomination. Interesting, indeed.

Anyway, I finally turned in, but still kept the TV on for a little while. I wanted to stay up to see what California reported, but as expected, it was too close to call at that time. But I did stay up to watch Obama’s speech. Again, I’m impressed with the message: actually unite the United States. There’s a wonderful hope in his speech, and yes, I do believe in it. I do believe that we can achieve things not before thought possible—with the right leadership.

Super Duper

Headed off to vote on my way to work. It should be an exciting and interesting day.



In other news . . . I passed the half-way point for my regatta goal last night. Okay, so there won't be a problem qualifying. And who knows? If I keep at it, maybe I could swing a third place in this race. That prize is a one-hour massage. That'd be quite nice.

The Excitement Builds

The excitement is in the air: Super Tuesday. Never before have I had the opportunity to really be involved in a primary race. Texas doesn't vote in primaries until March, and by then, the race is usually over.

But here, we vote in two days. Yesterday, I saw a group of folks at a busy intersection holding up “Obama '08" signs. I was across several lanes of traffic and driving the other way, otherwise I'd have given them the thumbs-up. (Memphis often has folks like this, out making their statements. Last fall, I turned a corner and came upon a group with signs against the war and for peace. I honked and waved, giving the thumbs-up. And I must say, doing that in a Beetle felt surreal.)

Clinton and Obama are running a close race, and as I've said, I'll be fine voting for either in November. Of course, I am voting for Obama in two days, and I'd rather vote for him in November. Besides, I think he has a better chance than Clinton of beating McCain. (either Clinton or Obama have a good chance at beating Romney (I'm counting Huckabee out, but we'll have to see what the Bible belt does for him next week.))

On the conservative side, Huckabee is killing Romney's hopes by taking away those who are really the "evangelical conservative right" (thinking of whom, almost makes me shudder, as I try to repeat my mantra: we should tolerate even the intolerant). This, of course, could essentially give the nomination to McCain. But here's the problem: apparently, McCain isn't Republican enough. Huh. Interesting.

But this is what I find most telling of all. I've heard McCain say over and over how he will unite the Republican party. I hear both Clinton and Obama talk about uniting the country. For America to progress both here at home and with the opinion of others far away (and let me tell you, as someone who's traveled some this past year, we are not thought of highly right now), well, let’s see. Unite the republican party, or unite America? I don't think this is a difficult choice.

Happy Anniversary

. . . to Roe v. Wade.

That's right: today marks the 35th anniversary of the landmark Supreme Court decision.

I realize that many people disagree on the issue. But to me, it still comes down to preserving life---with the best balance we've been able to come up with. And if you're at all confused about my meaning, I cannot recommend strongly enough that everyone watch the movie Cider House Rules.

I saw it for the first time while I was in law school, and like with so many other things, that's when I saw a bigger picture than I ever had before. The issues involved became broader, deeper, and much more meaningful.

A Nice Choice

I sit here watching the MSNBC (I really do like Tim Russert; he's become part of my Sunday mornings) debate of the top three candidates of the democratic party. And I must say, that for the first time in perhaps my presidential-race voting experience, I am happy with all three whom I see on the screen. Maybe this is because I've finally become comfortable with who I am politically. Maybe this is because I finally understand more of who I am--politically and otherwise. Regardless, what I know this does mean is that almost certainly, come November, I will not be having to choose whom not to vote for. And that feels not only wonderful, but so wonderfully promising.

As I watch and listen to this debate, I see three people who all would lead this country in a better direction than any choices who are up for delegates tonight in Michigan. Economy. Environment. Foreign issues. Health care. All of these things are areas I feel hope for based on what I see.

Of course, naturally, yes, this is a debate and these are campaigns. But finally, I really do feel like I have hope that it is grounded in something.

It's 2008. Not only is this a new beginning for me; I have hope that I share that with our nation, and it's a new beginning for all of us.

My Favorite Bumper Sticker

1.20.09: The End of an Error.


I'll vote Feb. 5, and I'm excited about what will happen in Iowa this week. I do, though, already know my vote that'll happen in February:

Obama '08

I know. I grew up thinking (being told) that I was conservative. Funny, it was my brother, actually, who first pegged me as liberal. Of course, back then, I thought those were dirty words. (Fightin' words!) Finally, though, I've not only accepted them; I've embraced them.

I am. I am liberal.

Gasp!

;-)

I heard an Iowan senator on the radio today talking about Obama's experience. He made the point that it's life experience that's important, and everything about Obama's life experience indicated this was a man who worked to unite people. And that, in my opinion (and that senator's), is something we could use. (That, and someone in power who had the courage to say "no" to the war, knowing it was not Iraq that attacked us, but a different force, a force he tried to get people to focus on, but that sadly, has slipped from our focus.)

Wow. Me--going on record with a political opinion. The times, well, they really are a-changin.'

And they feel good.

An Ecotourism Experience

Chumbe Island is a small island off the west coast of Zanzibar—not too far into the Pemba Channel.


What once was a military island, the coral reefs around the island had not been exposed to damaging fishing or boat anchors. When the island was no longer going to be needed by the military, a woman, noticing the pristine condition of the reef, thought the coral needed protection. She set her thoughts into action, and eventually, a private organization took got protection for the reef—at least on the west side of Chumbe Island.


But how to keep the reef as pristine? First, no fishing is allowed on the reef. Also, no boats can try to anchor in the area. Finally, the island is set up as an ecotourism location—allowing people to visit the island, researchers to learn about the island, and the island protection.

With ecotourism, to my limited understanding, we try to leave as little impact on an area as possible. In other words, the goal is for humans to hardly change anything from the natural state.

Some things about Chumbe . . . .

First, access to this island is not as easy as most tourists are accustomed to. No pier or dock serves the boat to the island, and the boat is at the mercy of the tide. For us, it was low tide when we were to catch the boat. And so to get there, we rolled up our pant legs and waded out to the boat. (Fortunatley, the rain was just then ending, even though the skies still appeared a bit ominous. They cleared quickly over the next hour.)


Our (now arrived) luggage? The staff from the boat (the small boat) raised each suitcase above their heads and carried each piece the long distance from the dry shore out to the boat. While we’d had notice that wading was required, always remember that knee-deep for one person might be mid-thigh deep for another (who’s as short as I am).

And again, once at the island, we had to wade to the shore. Upon leaving the island, I was happy for my last wading-through-the-surf experience. (Little did I know, but of course, that there was more to come.) (Here's the pic of us leaving. The water was indeed so incredibly blue.)


Chumbe has no electricity. All power the island uses is from solar power. We had lights in our bungalow, and we even had a small fan in the upstairs, which I pointed directly on my bed at night. (Mimi was fine sleeping in the heat, but me, I missed my A/C.) There was a large solar panel that was meant to heat water for showers, but we never did actually get that to work. Still, the weather was hot, and so the cool showers were actually refreshing.

Water? All water used on the island is collected from rainwater. The bungalows and visitor’s center are designed with this purpose in mind. The roofs are sloped so as to most efficiently collect water, and they have a Swiss filtration system, filtering that rainwater several times making it even safe enough to drink.

Ah, but if water is conserved so well, what about the toilet? It’s a composting toilet. From the room, it looks like a regular toilet. One difference, however is that the lid had a seal around it to seal the lid and the seat tightly. Also, of course, there’s no flusher. Once you, um, “go,” you simply take two scoops of dirt (which is really compost that’d been composting for over a year) and pour the scoops into the toilet. Only biodegradable items can be put down the toilet. It’s equipped with a vent pipe, reducing the odor significantly. In fact, the odor isn’t a sewage-type odor; it’s more earthy. About every six months, they remove the lowest level of what is now compost, and things just keep going.


With all this ecotourism and protecting the environment, Chumbe also is protecting two rare species. First, the coconut crab—the largest land-dwelling crab in existence. Also, Chumbe is home to the Aders Diaker, a very small and very rare antelope.


Other wildlife? I can say that I’ve truly never seen so many hermit crabs in my life! They are everywhere! Of course, anywhere else, and tourists would have scooped them up, taking them home as “pets.” But the people who go to Chumbe are the sort of people who when told, “Don’t touch; just look,” actually don’t touch. (I fear that several members of my family would be the type who would think they were the exception; too many of those sorts of people, and Chumbe’s creatures loses their protection. So sad.) Our ranger, who is authorized to touch, picked this one up for me to get a pic showing the size of this guy in the pic.

Our bungalows were designed to be environmentally friendly as well.

As I mentioned, they have solar power only, roofs designed to collect and filter rainwater, and compost toilets. They are also built with a design a bit like a ship so that the air is pulled through the bungalow, bringing in a breeze. (But the first night, after a thunderstorm, the air was so still, no amount of design—other than the small fan—could provide relief.)

Our bungalow also provided an incredible view of the water and wonderful accomodations. Downstairs was a table and sitting area, including a hammock for relaxing. Upstairs were two beds with a mosquito net, the fan, and a small reading lamp. Sarongs were provided for us (with polite requests to use them so as not to offend any of the staff who are Muslim). Between our bungalow and the water was a large padded swing and two lounge chairs.





The island has only seven bungalows, and they limit the guests to only fourteen people at a time. When we arrived, there were four other overnight guests and one couple there just for the day—for snorkeling, a forest walk, and lunch.

All over the area where the bungalows are you can find places for relaxing. Near the beach is a sheltered area, about the size of a queen-sized bed. Inside is a canvas-covered mattress atop a platform that swings—yes, the entire bed is a swing! There’s another shelter near the beach with giant cushions and pillows, some bleached shells, and the wonderful ocean breeze—a place just begging you to lie down with a good book and enjoy the sound of the waves and the feel of the ocean breeze. Of course, I truly just loved going to the beach area---natural white fine-grain sand. And with so few people as guests, each time I went, I had solitude---me, the sun, and the gentle surf. Heaven.


My personal favorite spot, though, was upstairs in the visitor’s center. The center was originally built as the lighthouse keeper’s home. It has now been turned into a visitor’s center with several sitting areas, a dining room, and a classroom. (The island brings children from the island of Zanzibar to learn about conservation, swimming, and ocean wildlife.) (The second picture is as viewed from our intertidal walk.)



And upstairs is a very large area, sucking in a refreshing breeze that gently, but wonderfully, whispers thorugh your hair, continuously with the breeze. Over in one far corner is a suspended swing overlooking the northwest side of the island’s coast. From there, I sat, read my book, stared out at the boats, and just “was.” That was indeed fabulous. Sitting, and swinging here, I would take a break from reading my book and gaze out at the water. Looking north, I could see the colorful boats anchored just off shore. These boats were there waiting to take staff mmebers off the island, provide a small dhow ride for guests, and to take us off shore to the incredible reef for snorkeling. Looking west, the water reached usually as far as you could see. (One particularly clear afternoon, you could just barely make out the coast of the mainland of Tanzania.) But breaking up that view, every so often, would be a dhow passing by---no doubt, carrying fishermen out to make a living.





And the food? You might worry with all this “basic” approach, the food wouldn’t be anything special. But it was splendid! I met John, the cook, on the boat ride over. And did he ever do a fabulous job. Seafood kabobs one night, beef another, fabulous ratatouille, wonderful curried veggies, and of course, always lots and lots of fresh fruit. In addition to wonderful flavor, the setting for each meal was spectacular. Most meals we sat with a wonderful view overlooking the ocean.

And our first night, for dinner, three tables were set up near the beach. Yes, just three tables because there were only six guests staying overnight. Here's a view of our dining room--as seen from atop the lighthouse.



Our second morning we started off with a forest walk. Our forest ranger, Juma (yes, we met about four men named Juma—a very popular name on Zanzibar), guided us around a path, pointing out the trees that are adapted to survive on this coral rag—with barely a few inches of soil atop a lot of rock. We found fossilized giant clams, learned about the tree (this cactus-looking one) that is poisonous (but also, as part of the Chumbe forest reserve, still protected), and saw two coconut crabs. We also saw mother-in-law tongue plants growing wild in their natural habitat. The view from the east side of the island was as wonderful as that on the west.

As we passed by the island “workshop,” we also passed the compost area for the kitchen—where they place all the discarded fruit and vegetable matter. The hermit crabs were having an absolute feast! Juma explained that the hermits feed hungrily during the day, but at night, the coconut crabs change places with the hermits, hungrily feeding on what’s left. Here's a puzzle for you---click on the picture below (to enlarge it) and see how many hermit crabs you see chowing down on this compost pile of fruit and veggie scraps:



Shortly after our return from the forest walk, we walked out for an intertidal walk. We started a bit too late after low tide, so we couldn’t make the walk around the whole island, which is possible if you start out at just the right time. But we did make it out to an area of land that during high tide, is an island. In the many tidal pools, we saw many urchins, lots of different types of crabs, and even several giant clams. We also found several sea cucumbers, which, when gently prodded by Juma, squirted water. I said, “Oh, he peed” This amused Juma quite a bit, and he kept saying, “It peed.” I wasn’t sure he knew that was slang, and I then explained, “urinated,” and Juma said, “Urinated—that is the scientific name, no?” I tried then to change what the cucumber did to “spitting,” but I still fear Juma’s next guests will hear how the cucumber “pees.” Sigh.


Both days we were there, we enjoyed about an hour-long snorkeling journey over the protected reef. What beautiful coral! Now, what I would see later off the east coast of Zanzibar would be more breathtaking overall, but this, well, this was amazing due to the sheer variety. The reef has over 200 species of coral! Absolutely amazing!


That lighthouse I mentioned? It’s still in operation. Many of the fishing boats around Zanzibar are dhows, and the dhows are a very basic sailing boat with no sort of computer. And so, a lighthouse is an appreciated item from those sailors. But because the lighthouse was changed to a type of gas that doesn’t need as much maintenance, no longer does a lighthouse keeper need to live on the island. On our first night, we climb the many steps up to the top, rewarded with an amazing view of the island and surrounding waters.

The sound of Chumbe was pure island-quiet. You could hear the sound of the waves, gently lapping the shore’s edge. But otherwise, there was no music, no artificial sounds, no nothing. It was just nature’s relaxation soundtrack.


And so, my time on Chumbe was certainly enjoyed. We left early Tuesday morning, our bags, once again carried out to the boat as we waded out as well. As the boat moved back to the main island of Zanzibar, we bid farewell to Chumbe Island, its beauty, and its peace.

No, it isn’t a “resort” type of place (although the prices could have seemed so). But every staff member was welcoming, helpful, and seemed genuinely interested in your having a good, relaxing time. But would I return? It’s not on my top list of things to do. After all, I have many other places to visit. But it was incredible, and I don't hesitate to recommend it to anyone else--provided, of course, you can handle a little ecotourism.

PS: Our last night on Chumbe, we ordered a bottle of champagne with dinner, and indeed, we toasted my sister's birthday. Happy Birthday Charla!

Change Can Make All the Difference

I have been wonderfully busy with friends since last Wednesday. (Tonight's the first night since then I've had dinner at home!) And I have lots of photos from those evenings. But I'm still in the middle of transferring data from two computers to my new laptop and trying to make sure I have adequate back-ups of it all. So those posts will have to wait.

In the meantime, let me share this story about a Texas Wesleyan Alum. His name is Craig Watkins. And he's the new DA in Dallas County. Now, Texas Wesleyan's first graduating class was in 1994, and Watkins was in that class. (As was a remarkable woman named Cliffie, whom I worked with at the Court and whose spirit, spunk, and special sense I adore. I'm sure she doesn't know how much our chats over lunch for those three years affected me, but in learning the right sort of attitude to have about things---I leaned a lot. And for that, I'm delighted.)

Anyway---back to Watkins. I don't personally know him. The first I heard of him was in one of our faculty meetings (must have been that second Wednesday in November) when various faculty members shared news about alum of Texas Wesleyan Law who had been elected to public office. We'd had several JPs for some time. And now we even have at least one local district judge in the mix too---I'm quite sure. (and yes, we have me, the full-time professor who decided not be become a judge; Texas politics and I wouldn't be able to play nicely together.) But this year, we have a DA! (That's "District Attorney" for you non-law folks.)

But not just any DA. We have an alum who's been elected DA of---get this---Dallas County! This, people, is huge.

(Keep in mind that our first graduating class was just thirteen years ago, and we're still building our reputation and all. It takes time.)

Okay, so at first, I was, I'll admit, skeptical. Watkins had little---if any---prosecutorial experience. Why, then, did he win? Because Dallas County sent a loud and strong message to everyone else that they're fed up with the Republican Party. Democrats won all over the county.

Hey---it happens. For the last, oh, ten plus years in Tarrant County, the way to become a judge is run on a Republican ticket. Twenty or so years ago, it was the opposite. That's them thar politics for ya.

Again---back to Watkins. So---me? On his bandwagon? Not so much. I mean, yes---WooHoo for our alums! Slowly lots of us are making our mark, making our way (my move to Memphis is part of my part in all that), and making a difference. But once we get there, we still have to prove ourselves. And as of now (I reserve the right to change my opinion should new facts be learned), DA Watkins is holding his own---at least in certain areas that garner a great deal of respect from me.

Additionally, not only is he paving a way for Texas Wesleyan alums, he (according to the article linked below) is the first black district attorney in the state of Texas. Seriously? It took until 2007 for this? Egads! But bravo, it's here.

I know; I know. Just because he's black . . .

(Sidebar---once I visited Africa this year (okay, and even before, but now I have a real reason), I quit using the term "African American." I saw the reaction when some American I was traveling with tried to be PC and use the "African American" label, and the look on the African's face said, "Excuse me, does that person even know anything about Africa?" Seriously, people. I'm white. I'm American. I have Irish heritage---and British, and Scottish, and German......but I'm not Irish American. First and even second generations of folks who move here---go right ahead. But beyond that, I just don't know. And all of this PC crappolla is what made me feel so very strange ever calling someone "African." I had to remind myself that first, the better thing would be to identify by country----Kenyan; Ethiopian; Ugandan, etc. But still, "African" is no different that saying someone is "European" or "North American." Seriously, people. Wait--don't get me wrong. I am the first (okay, maybe not the first, but right up there at the front of the line!) to be offended by derogatory labels based on slang terms. But "black" or "white" isn't derogatory. Okay, so not to me. Granted, just as soon as someone tells me it offends them, I won't use it in their presence.

So again---back to DA Watkins.

(one more---I call these "rabbit trails," and I'm the queen of chasing rabbits down trails in conversations. The bad thing occurs if I forgot the trail from which I left. Well, that, and sometimes one trail can easily lead to another. And when that happens, the hard part is that often my brain is working too quickly and just making my mouth talk---sort of a "free-flow" of thoughts. That's fine---for me. But my poor conversation partner is usually staring at me, brow furrowed, saying, "Huh?"

Except for Margo. I vividly recall the day we were driving down FM1960, and I chased about three rabbits in succession before she stopped me. Her issue was not that I had lost her. Her issue was that she had followed me! eek! No wonder we were unbeatable at Taboo! :-) (Margo & I were coworkers and friends for a while, then shared an apartment for about 18 months before getting a house along with her boyfriend (now hubby) Eric. What great people. Margo's another one of those friends who really helped me learn about perspective. ))

Okay----once more, back to DA Watkins. See, he had no experience. And I pretty much scoffed at that. But ya know what? Sometimes you need a fresh set of eyes to see things clearly. Change, indeed, can make a difference.

Naturally, as when any new chief comes in, shake-ups in personnel happened. And I don't have an opinion about that; I don't know those people. But what he did that impressed me, well, here---read about it:

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/06/03/us/03dallas.html?_r=1&oref=slogin

That's right---in the New York Times.

Sure, some may think this DNA testing is a waste of resources. But I stand by my feeling that I'd rather a guilty man go free than a man innocent of the crime be locked up.

I don't know about his management style or how else he's doing in that DA's office, but when it comes to exonerating the innocent: You keep rockin' DA Watkins!

Memorial Day

(the pics on this post aren't mine but ones I found online---seeming best suited for today's post.)

Rain, Rain, Go Away . . .

North Texas has needed rain for what feels like a couple of years, but no more! Lakes are full, rivers are flowing, and the trenches around my flower beds had their own little rivers all weekend. Enough rain already! (My friends on the Guadalupe even had to end their tubing early---rapidly rising water levels on the river made the conditions too dangerous---a far cry from the oh-so-low levels last summer, so low we often had to stand and tow our tube over some rocks.)

Okay, so I'm fussing. Rain's good, but we're soaked. Rain indeed fell on the party Saturday night and washed out Splash Day. It also led to the FW Cats deciding to cancel tonight's baseball game. Darnit. They were going to have fireworks! But I'll save the tickets and go again in this next month.

But not every activity was outdoors---I enjoyed a great BBQ over at Kristin and Charles's place, where I finally got to meet Charles's closest friends. I'm very glad about that---before the big move. Kristin was on the couch recovering form knee surgery, but Charles was the most wonderful host. He seems to get that from "Daddy Charles"---whom Kristin and Charles visit in Savannah around Christmas.

And while my weekend has been filled with celebrations, BBQs, parties, and even rained-out ballgames, the fireworks tonight were the time I'd set aside to personally honor those today was reserved for honoring: our fallen soldiers. Of course, I didn't get that opportunity, so I tuned in to some specials on tv, watching the stories of several very young men who went to Iraq but didn't make it home alive. And I shed the tears for all of those families who watch their loved ones serve that duty, for my best friend whose family sacrifices so much for her husband to answer his calling to his country, for countless others.

And my sentiments were echoed in the shows I watched: no matter what I think of our current administration or why we're at war or if we should be at war, we are. And the men and women who are serving the duty to their country are fulfilling their promises to us, their fellow countrymen, to serve proudly---no matter the issues behind it. And for that, I express my deepest gratitude.

On a few vacations or travels out of town I've had the opportunity to get a little closer to memorials and monuments of war. I had been completely unprepared for how deeply I would be moved at Pearl Harbor back in '99. The following year, visiting the concentration camp of Dauchau near Munich was equally as emotional---pulling at the depths of my soul in standing in the place where countless lives were lost, changed, and wasted. And in January, when I was in DC, between the memorials around the mall to the life-changing tour of the US Holocaust Memorial Museum---all of these visits have made my appreciation for our days of recognition a little more meaningful.

Sure, we still enjoy a day off, BBQing, having fun, and sharing good times. But let us take at least a moment in all that to also remember what today is about: it's a day to remember. It's a day to honor.

Soldier, rest! Thy warfare o'er,

Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking,

Dream of battled fields no more.

Days of danger, nights of waking.

-Sir Walter Scott

Happy Mom's Day!

Happy Mother's Day!! ---the other reason for the drive down south for the weekend.

Mom and I made the drive back to her place Saturday night after dinner, and Clay (my older brother) joined us there too. We were all quite tired from the day's events, though (and Mom & I from staying up too late on Friday!), so it wasn't too late of a night. (However, I did stay up a while blogging about the day---finally got pics up with that today.)

And even though we'd been gone all day, the critters were tired early too. Sophie even retreated to her carrier---for the first time EVER! They say (whoever "they" are) that cats have a hard time with change and with travel, but Sophie really does wonderfully at Grandma's house. She adjusts almost immediately upon our arrival and settles into her routine without incident.

You may be wondering why I would take Sophie for just a weekend. Well, I didn't. Sophie went to visit Grandma for an extended vacation. With the house on the market, I didn't want to scare away any prospective buyers with a litter box. My house smells great, but you never know what might put someone off.

Sophie's visited Grandma's twice---both other times for three-week visits. And they get along splendidly! Sophie tends to follow Mom around just like a little kid, tailing her from room to room. And during this last visit, Sophie began to visit Mom in the middle of the night, enjoying curling up in bed and watching late-night tv.

Anyway, back to Saturday night---Howard just went to bed without me. He did not care to wait for me to finish writing. On Sunday, Mom's Day was nice. We had a relaxing morning, tending to some things around the house and getting Mom's pics from Final Review uploaded and shared. We filled her bird feeder too and enjoyed the back yard. (we both love watching the birds in our feeders---something that always makes me think of her mother and her bird houses she had out at the farm.)

Mom's got a gorgeous backyard---very lush and green. She's always worked really hard in the yard. (When my neighbor told me he'd never seen a woman work so hard on her own on her house, I though "you haven't met my mom.") Alas, as age creeps up, she still has a great place, even if that's accomplished with a little hired help.

The pecan tree that my grandfather planted provides ample shade for the huge wooden deck she now has---one ideal for evening meals outside. The tree leans quite a bit, and it leans toward the house, but to me it seems like it's leaning over Mom's house as if it's a sign that her dad's looking over her.

Her squash and tomato plants are doing wonderfully; she picked the season's first tomatoes while I was there! And even the pepper plants have itty-bitty peppers.

While outside Sunday morning, we enjoyed watching a busy hummingbird travel among the many red salvia plants, drinking up lots from each one before it paused to rest on a clothesline. The bird was so tiny, but its wings beat so fast. Amazing little creature.

Howard, of course, kept quite busy checking out the backyard. Mom's yard backs up to a heavily wooded area, and she has a wire fence along the back of the yard. You can hardly see the wire fence, and so it feels like there's open forest out there. (the fence is behind other plants in the yard, so you really cannot see it---great design.) But the fence does keep Howard in the yard---and sometimes the deer out of the garden.
Howard also relaxed sometimes, but usually he'd stay at least a little on alert.

Sunday afternoon, we all went for our Mom's Day lunch at Archie's---a local place owned and operated by one of my high school friend's family. Not having the opportunity often enough for really good catfish, Mom and I both had that. And indeed, it was tasty & perfectly cornmeal battered. Clay enjoyed the frog legs.

But poor Mom. She said she wanted to sit in the middle, but she didn't know how literally "in the middle" that'd put her. I suppose my brother and I couldn't be more different when it came to political opinions. And he wanted to talk politics. Honestly, after a gross misstatement of fact he made (where do some sources get their info?!), I didn't have a lot of patience to participate. And as I said, it was sticking Mom right in the middle. Bless her heart---she does have to listen to each of us espouse our (strong) opinions separately. She didn't need to hear 'em together.

Don't get me wrong---a good debate is indeed healthy and can be quite thought-provoking. But I also recognize a twenty-year-old argument when I hear one, and I am not interested in debating how things used to be when those things have been changed dramatically since then. For example, if you want to argue about welfare, then don't complain about the system that existed in the 80s. Let's talk about it after the reforms of the 90s. And when I know I've gotten into a conversation with someone who won't admit error, I don't see an upside to that conversation. Or when you're in a conversation with someone who's in it "just to win" and not actually to exchange ideas and really provoke thought, well, that, by definition, is not thought provoking to me. And through the years (and oh my, yes, in law school), I've figured out many of the signs of these types of arguments. (and throwing in unfounded accusations about a political party's dirty secrets is just silly to me; don't we all know that BOTH major parties are accused of dirty work? Oh, goodness.)

Not that everything from above was going on during lunch, but enough was that I did not see a benefit to any debate. And more importantly, I also know that Mom doesn't want discourse. Thus, we moved the conversation to topics a little lighter, a little less controversial, and a little bit better for the Mother's Day lunch table.

And to clarify, while I may disagree with most of my brother's political views, I recognize that he is fascinatingly educated about histories of war, battles, and such world events. (Although, the awful misstatement of fact that was made---apparently gotten from some sort of political gossip made by someone who was unbelievably uninformed---put up a slight barrier to listening for a while.) Now does that mean I'm interested in hearing about every war that's ever occurred? No. But he's a great source to chat about those that I am.

And back home for Sunday night---the night I enjoy settling in for a little good TV. Tonight was a little different, of course, because I had to record the regular stuff while I watched the Survivor finale. Enjoyable! I wasn't at all shocked of Earl's landslide victory, but it was sad Yau-Man didn't win. But what I respected most about the producers of the show was that not once did I hear anyone reference the race of the final three. Bravo, Survivor! (Maybe something was said, but I didn't hear it, so it wasn't a big deal if it was mentioned.) (I've always thought it was such a shame when a person's race is mentioned as if it's important to know in a conversation when it has absolutely nothing to do with the topic.)

But I did manage to also catch up on my favorite Sunday night show: Brothers & Sisters. It's funny, it's sad, it's thought-provoking, and it's poignant. It even has a brother and sister with polar opposite political views! (And a mom who tries to play peace-keeper...sometimes. (Sally Field is excellent in that role, and too often I see glimpses of my own mother in her (and glimpses of all of my family in combinations of the other characters.) The character, Nora, loves her children (all adults) so much, but she also gets frustrated with them, angry with them, can laugh and joke with them too---the full spectrum, acted out wonderfully.))

Here's a line from Brothers & Sisters Sunday night: "Sometimes being a good parent is knowing when not to parent. You have to get out of the way and let life happen to your kids."

I think that's sage advice. Although mine is not a family that's always there for all the occasions, and a big part of me thinks that's unfortunate, we tend to raise relatively independent folks. I was so raised---to be independent and to make my own decisions. I've also always known that advice---and help---is just a phone call away. So thanks, Mom & Dad, for knowing when---and when not to---parent, and for letting life happen to me. :-)