This post doesn’t really have much to do with politics and I actually hemmed and hawed whether I should even broach this subject (dangerous territory and potentially boring for those that want pretty), but since this is a forum for me to discuss things that I am interested in I thought what the heck? I actually am more interested in the discussion of politics then actual politics (and I am also a little obsessed with American history, okay, history).  I love to be privy to hearing all sides and enjoy a deep discussion of the issues. I love when a subject incites passion in individuals; my normally docile husband will get blue in the face when he is on a political rant & roll. We don’t always agree and I have no problem with that, we agree to disagree.  I just listened to a recent episode of This American Life wherein they discussed family and friends that have either been torn apart by political disagreements or that co-exist in their disagreement.  An interesting listen to be sure.  I can’t imagine a political debate being so heated that it would tear me apart from a loved one and I hope it never comes to that.

To make things a little lighter on this very tense day in the U.S. of A. I shall tell you a story from my childhood with my very liberal and eccentric Mother. I am one of those people that have a very vivid memory of childhood and unfortunately my teen years as well (awkward). When I was about six, I drew what I now would describe as a utopian neighborhood. My mother leaned over my drawing, her long, dark Cher-like hair tickling my shoulder and asked me about my drawing.  I proudly explained to her that I was drawing a perfect world, “Wouldn’t it be nice if everyone had a house, food, clothes and all the toys they wanted?” She stuck her lower lip out and lifted her chin up and patted my head and said very nonchalantly in her thick Spanish accent, “Baby gurrrrl, ju are a communist?”  My mother a product of the 60’s and practicing laissez-faire (hands off) parenting didn’t dissuade me from any leanings she may have thought I had at the ripe ol’ age of six, but figured I would find my own way eventually.  I did, after I asked my 1st grade teacher what a communist was and she wanted to know why I wanted to know and I explained that my mom thought I might be one. That made her laugh (she couldn’t believe a parent might be so cavalier, but she hadn’t met my mother) and said teacher set me on my path to patriotism. I am happy to announce that my mom no longer believes I am a communist. I am also happy to be in a country where we can have a debate, as heated as it may get without fear of mortal danger to our person, that my friends is freedom.


  1. Amy, I love a smile on this election day. The air here in my part of the country is so thick with angst that I am thrilled to know that I could make you smile;)

    Susan, my mom is a character indeed, lol. I think I may have mentioned this but her name is Marie as well(so very French, non?), it is one of my all time fave names, she is so exotic like a rare bird and I associate the name with feminine, worldly, sophisticated(and yes gorgeous) women.

    C, thank you for visiting!

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