Posts in category "America & Me"

Past Tense Present; Child Abuse and My Childhood

My 1950s childhood was idyllic, full of sunny days and the best of health. Lightning bugs in jars and playing with neighbor kids in summer; snow forts, and hot chocolate with miniature marshmallows in winter. No voices were raised. No doors were slammed. My Mother cooked all our meals; my Father’s middle-class salary covered life... Read more »

End Ticket Scalping NOW

For those who have had it with ticket scalpers, for those who wanted to see fill-in-the-blank but were shut out seconds into trying to buy a sold out ticket–there could be a solution if the Do Nothing Congress of the 21st C run by–remind me what party–did something. Legislate that in order to buy tickets... Read more »

Knitting Without Needles

Every week I go to knitting; yet I do not knit. And despite being offered a bag of yarn and some mismatched knitting needles to ‘pass’, I must confess that I have absolutely no interest in knitting. After all, if I’ve free time I read. Madam Defarge I am not. So why would I go to... Read more »
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Hillary was right; It takes a village of elders to mentor the young

I’ve depended on so many (mostly) women over my life. And, I still do. When Mary Jane Forker’s daughter Nancy advised me of her mother’s death, I was sad. And yet, I was glad too. Glad that I’d had the opportunity to know this woman and to learn from her. The most important lesson was... Read more »

Get the hell out of Chicago, before you're a gunshot statistic (that is, if counted)

Finally pulling up big girl knickers to read Elie Wiesel’s legendary autobiographical book “Night”, one portion stabbed my memory like an icicle to my heart. The remembrance of his father who would not or could not move from the darkening violence that was coming. Violence that came to be called, The Holocaust. Memory is slippery,... Read more »

After Brexit, a.k.a. Make Britain Great Again, What NOW?

At the top let me confess, I care about Brexit, or Britain’s Exit vote from the European Union. With close family in the UK, including two grandsons, it’s bloody personal. And not something to be taken lightly as the world’s stock markets showed the day after. As for the two celebrity Conservative leaders of the LEAVE... Read more »
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The Gun Shots Heard Round the World; Death the American Way

The 50 dead (so far) in Orlando from the latest and greatest number of dead from a USA mass shooting shows in dying red that America is Number One in something! Mass murders. We’ve made America Great Again, at something. Aren’t we proud? Where are the cheers of the Trump-inistas, “We’re Number ONE, We’re number ONE”? Pay... Read more »

What's the matter with the USA? (Psst. It's become 3rd rate, 3rd World)

As we enter Memorial Day weekend and American brains shift into SUMMER mode (especially in Western Massachusetts where the weather has an unusual fever of 90F as of today), can we discuss what’s not working in the USA besides US Congress starring Speaker Paul Ryan’s GOP? How about the news reports of the TSA lines... Read more »

Belgian Budweiser Beer, China Cheap and America Patriotism 2016

With the announcement that Budweiser beer, owned by a Belgian company, rolling summertime pseudo-patriotic red white and blue cans branded “America” that were designed by Jones Knowles Richie of  London, Shanghai, Singapore (and oh yes, NYC)–what is left to parody? When marketing plans are self-satire, comedy is dead. Then again, we in America parody ourselves. Big Boxes stores... Read more »
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Chicago Teachers Strike and Mayor Emanuel

The only April Fools today are the citizens of Chicago who foolishly voted back in Mayor Rahm Emanuel, the short-fingered (one especially so) politician. As for the Chicago teachers strike today, has anyone asked why Chicago property taxes don’t cover city services. Considered to have some of the highest property taxes in the nation, why... Read more »
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    Candace Drimmer

    I was an accidental expatriate; love and marriage led me to it. One day I was a bandy-legged kid sitting atop my dogwood tree looking out of my small backyard world in 1950s New Jersey, wanting to move somewhere--anywhere, different. Next thing I knew my father had accepted a job in Houston TX. I was ecstatic, it was a foreign land in 1961 America. After high school graduation, my parents’ gave me a matched set of fawn-colored hardsided American Tourister luggage. Taking the hint, I went to college; well four colleges in five years--it was the 60s after all. Meeting a young hirsute anti-war, soon-to-be-Peace Corps volunteer, I fell in love. After finishing up college coursework for my degree, but before I even walking a graduation stage, I grabbed the paper airline ticket my boyfriend had sent me, my brand-new passport, and was off to the airport and Lima, Peru.

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