Grandmothers

My Grandmother, Elizabeth Rauh Machol, died on July 4, 1998 at the age of 81. If she were alive today she would be celebrating her 92nd birthday today. Happy birthday Grandma.

Libby, as she was known, was a brilliant woman who was born in an era when brilliant woman weren’t necessarily valued. Fortunately she was born into a family that believed women were equal to men (her mother was a college graduate and worked for most of her adult life, by choice) and that racial and ethnic minorities were equal to whites. Her father spent much of his time as President of the Cincinnati Dental Association attempting to get it to allow black dentists to join. On the first anniversary of his death, when my Grandmother was 19 years old and a junior at Radcliff College, the Cincinnati dental association did just that, as an honor to him.

My Grandmother worked for years to ensure that civil rights in the town she lived in were available to all. Until her death, she persevered for all families and helped make Teaneck, NJ an integrated and diverse community. In the 1960s she even had a young black woman from the south come and live in her house because the high school where the woman lived was so awful and the one in Teaneck was so much better. She kept in touch with Cynthia for years afterwards, and was a surrogate grandmother for Cynthia’s son.

I am sorry that my Grandmother isn’t around for this election season. She would have loved to volunteer for the campaign -- although she would have had a terrible time deciding whether to vote for Hillary Clinton or Barack Obama in the primary. I know that if we told her a decade ago that the Democrats were going to nominate a man who had a black father and a white mother and whose name was Barack Obama she wouldn’t have believed us. That he would have an excellent shot of winning would also have shocked her. That it turns out to be true would have shocked her even more, but made her very, very happy.

I’m glad Grandma isn’t around to have witnessed the last eight years. My Grandfather (Grandma’s husband) died on January 23, 2001 and I always claimed that the Bush inauguration was what finally killed him (although it seems clear it was actually heart failure and uncontrolled diabetes). I was glad that they never saw the attack on the World Trade Center (my Grandfather would have been appalled at all of the good wines that were lost in the Cellar in the Sky…as well as the terrible devastation and loss of life), glad they never witnessed the fiasco in Iraq, glad that Grandpa didn’t see his retirement savings lessened.

But Grandma (and Grandpa, but especially Grandma) would have been so excited about this election. So proud of what our country was doing and so amazed at how far we had come.

No she wouldn’t have voted for just any female or black candidate. Christie Todd Whitman got no love from Grandma. Nor did Alan Keyes.

She would have loved that Barack Obama was tall and handsome. She would have loved his Ivy credentials; especially that he had gone to Harvard…even if it was only for grad-school (Grandpa, a Columbia graduate, got no love for his Ivy). She would have loved his strong, powerful, smart wife and his two adorable daughters. And she would have loved his policies and his speeches.

I know Barack Obama’s own Grandmother is gravely ill. I hope that she can hang on long enough to know that her Grandson whom she raised starting when he was ten years old became President of the United States (knock wood, we still have a week and a half to go). I’m not a religious woman, but on behalf of my Grandmother who was, I will say a little prayer for her well being and for Barack Obama’s as well.

And for the first time in a long time I have Hope. Hope that things will get better, hope that we’ll do better as a country. And it’s the first time in a long while that I wish Grandma was here to see it. I was going to vote for Barack Obama anyway. But this year when I step in the voting booth Grandma will be with me.

Alpine Glow

'nuff said

Telluride Widgets

Backlash to the Backlash

Michael Phelps is amazing.

We knew he was. He's already won 6 gold medals and two bronze ones in Atlanta. He had set the goal to get 8 golds at this Olympics. It is an unparalleled achievement and no one thought he could really do it.

I mean it was a nice idea, but the stars would have to align to get 8 gold medals in one Olympics.

NBC pimped the hell out of the idea and drove ratings up. And it was fun to watch him try at first. But all the 'rah ... eight medals ... rah' schtick was getting an little old. Truth is when you spend days screaming at the top of your lungs that, "THIS GUY IS THE MOST AMAZING THING EVER! PAY LOTS OF ATTENTION!" people tend to stop listening and get sick of your jumping up and down hysterically screaming.

But he did it. He lived up to the expectation and hype. He smashed seven world records. He won eight gold medals.

And no matter how sick of him we are, no matter how annoying the NBC coverage is and how the 'rah pay attentions' are now a dull echo we tune out because we've heard it a million times before we need to remember the following:

Michael Phelps just did what no one has ever done before. He has a total of sixteen medals over two Olympics, 14 of them gold. He holds, individually or as a member of a team seven world records and in several cases broke his own best time. And he won eight gold medals in a single Olympics.

So, despite how much I hate the rah-rah coverage and NBC and I've gotten a little annoyed by it, I have to say, Michael Phelps is extraordinary. Wow. Just Wow.

Some Things That Babies Like (according to my 7 month old niece)

Babies like spoons.
Babies like doggies.
Babies like chewing on doggie tail.
Babies like pulling doggie fur.

Doggie does not mind any of the aforementioned activities as doggie likes attention to be paid to her, regardless of the size of the person paying the attention.

Babies like being tickled.
Babies like being showing the restaurant bar and having all the different types of liquors described to them.
Babies like being held upside-down (but not when they have been crying).
Babies like boobies.
Babies like knuckles (to gum on).
Babies like strained peas.

I like Babies.

We've decided Rory's battle cry will be "Spoon" just like The Tick

Just trying out my Ping.fm account...let's see how this works