Whew!

Now, that was a busy week.

I worked on writing while negotiating deals while keeping tabs on the law while preparing for the big KNIFVES (movie networking group) luncheon in Spokane... all culminating into a busy Thursday, capped by the luncheon.

I slept well last night.

The luncheon was just excellent. Amy Dee and Lindsey Johnson from Washington Filmworks - the group that manages the film incentives program from the state of Washington - came over from Seattle and gave an overview of the film incentives program here. We had lots of people, including those people representing lawmakers. We talked a little about reciprocity between the states, as a number of KNIFVES members are from Idaho and certainly eastern Washington and north Idaho would benefit from a sharing program...

What stood out most, besides the presentation, was how many projects are in the works in the area. Person after person announced their goings-on, and the energy in the room built as everyone talked. Very exciting!

Oh, and brochures. KNIFVES finally has brochures! I am getting some printed and going over to the North Pole Mystery's festival event - the Riverstone FEST - tomorrow afternoon, in Couer d'Alene, and will be armed with a stack of brochures. NPM is the group putting together a reality show in CDA. Brad Kline and Luke Jiles - or "the boys," as I call them - have been working diligently for a couple months now.... and bringing in others to help coordinate and organize... Should be fun tomorrow.

And now, back to the law...

Thinking Hiatus

It's been a creative time this past week, and this coming week - after several weeks of the law. As I've done before (and I think I've already started), I am taking a short break from blogging while creativity takes over. Should be back in a week or so....

My Friend Charlie

My friend Charlie Schlesinger passed away at 12:04 a.m. early Sunday morning. He'd been through it all - most recently a second liver transplant that had been working as the rest of his body shut down. Charlie was young - much too young to be so sick - only 61 - 62 in a few weeks - not yet eligible for senior citizen Medicare, even. But die he did, without a tenth life in him.

Everyone knew Charlie. I cannot remember, in my 15 now 16 years of living in Spokane, ever talking about Charlie without hearing, "Oh, yes - I know Charlie." Whether people knew him because of his work as an investigator, or as a DJ for his jazz radio show on Friday nights ("Jazz With Chazz"), or as a member and security guard of the local Jewish temple, or as an avid Spokane Indians baseball fan, or just because of Charlie himself - who seemed to know everyone from somewhere - everyone knew him. He was sort of like the president that way - except with Charlie, everyone knew him personally. When he got so sick the first time, and was on death's door before, the radio still played the jazz program, with a different DJ, and a slightly different name: "Jazz for Chazz," this time. We all wanted Charlie to live.

Charlie - wow - with his raspy voice, and his big heart, and his commitment to friends (which was anyone who crossed his path) - Charlie was a living, breathing example of how to be. Charlie is a big reason of how I stayed in Spokane, really. He asked, back in 1996, when I was getting ready to move to his hometown of NYC to be a public defender, why I was leaving. Well, I don't have a job here, I said - pointed out - something he already knew. We'll keep you here, he said, and set about finding me a job. I took a different one that he found, but his belief in the outcome gave me the impetus to imagine the possibilities. That was Charlie.

And he helped me when I found out the story about the 1946 baseball guys, the Spokane Indians team that died in a bus crash midway through the season, the subject of my novel - he loved the Indians team, had season tickets forever, knew everyone at the stadium (what a shocker) - he vouched for me with the front office of the team - I told him of the connection I found between the 1946 team and the Brooklyn Dodgers, knowing he would love the stories of what I'd learned -

I can't really do justice to describing who Charlie was. I can just try, with an example or two. And my stories are just a sliver of the stories out there, of Charlie and his big heart, raspy voice.

I saw him just a few short weeks ago - ran into him, outside his house. (Just a couple days earlier, I had seen Sue, his - how can she be called girlfriend? so connected to him - life partner, is a better way to describe all they were to each other... so he'd known I was still around....) It was a good day for him, and I was so glad to see him up and about. "Let's go to lunch sometime," I said, seeing his good energy. Well, he said, today's a good day, but who knows what tomorrow will bring. I knew lunch wouldn't happen. But I was glad to see him, just the same, and glad to make the plan.

I went to graveside services on Monday, and there they were - the eclectic gathering that of course would be there to say goodbye. One of the speakers coined it by saying that Charlie knew everyone - whether it was the clerk at the airport in China, or... and then asked us all to turn to each other and find out how we each knew him. When I explained it was through his investigator work, and the people I was talking to wanted to know how that happened, I couldn't really say or remember - because I just had always known him, is the thing. And they all nodded, like they knew what I meant.

There were some funny stories, some heartfelt ones, and then it was time for a final goodbye. The rabbi explained the Jewish tradition, of us each taking a shovel and, using the back side, lifting (not scooping) a little bit of dirt to throw on his coffin, three times - then setting the shovel back down for the next person - not handing it over, not rushing it, taking our time instead. Each of these steps, the rabbi said, is a way to show our reluctance to say goodbye.

So I stood in line, and waited my turn, and then took the shovel and got some dirt, three different times, to put on the coffin. I took my time, like the rabbi had asked. And then, too quickly, my turn was done. So long old friend, I thought. We will all really miss you.

Jersey Justice

We all pretty much know by now that Arizona has passed a lot with a lot of problems. Putting politics aside, it has a lot, a lot of problems. A standard of "reasonable suspicion" for asking Americans for documents? Even with our shrinking Fourth Amendment, that screams a misunderstanding of the law. That isn't the only problem (there's also the state/federal province issue, the citizens' right to sue police, etc.), but it was the first that jumped out at me. (Though the citizens' right to sue - wow - so, someone calls in to the police to report some "suspicious looking people" at the local fast food restaurant, and then can sue the police if they don't arrive - or arrive soon enough - to investigate?)

On a practical level, if my last name was Rodriguez, and I lived in Arizona, I'd be moving. I don't care how legal I am, or how many generations my family had lived in the United States, or if a red carpet had spilled out for us way back when, welcoming us to this country. By August, when the new law goes into effect, I would either move or expect my life - and the lives of my children - to become scary and unpredictable, any time I left the house to go to the grocery store, or to visit a friend, or to go watch a sports event.

Seriously, could you imagine being a Hispanic American with that kind of law passing? To be afraid to speak that beautiful Spanish language because it would give police "reasonable suspicion" that you are illegal? I love Spanish - I studied it in high school and college, I read parts of Don Quijote in the original Spanish - but if I had darker coloring, I would be afraid to use Spanish in Arizona for fear of people suspecting me of a crime, stopping me, arresting me... And how awful is that? That my blonde hair and blue eyes would allow me to speak Spanish when my dark-haired neighbor can't.

And while I have sympathy for people here illegally - well, they are here illegally. If we have laws, we should enforce them. If the laws are not working, we should change them. But the laws should not be traps for Americans. That's the point that people seem to be missing, and where we should have consensus. Which is perhaps the most depressing part of this law passed in Arizona. What is it - 75% of Arizonans support this law??

The local newspaper "gets" it. The Arizona Republic printed a front-page editorial listing all the local politicians who failed Arizona on the way to passing this law. It starts out: "We need leaders. The federal government is abdicating its duty on the border. Arizona politicians are pandering to public fear. The result is a state law that intimidates Latinos while doing nothing to curb illegal immigration." Here's the full text.

The law's follies are yet to develop. Joe Scarborough (on "Morning Joe") the other day pointed out the likely scenario of someone dealing with an emergency - like a man going to get medicine for his wife in the middle of the night and forgetting his identification, and getting arrested, and being unable to help his wife, who ends up in the hospital or worse - and how that will be the legacy of this law, in the end.

So it was very cool what the Phoenix Suns - or, should I say, "Los Suns" - did yesterday.

In honor of Cinco de Mayo, and in quiet response to the impending law, and in recognition of their Hispanic players (which apparently make up about 15 percent of the NBA), Phoenix wore their "Los Suns" jerseys at their playoff game last night, against the San Antonio Spurs. And then they won the game. (That seems like jersey justice, doesn't it? Hence my heading.)

Apparently they've played in these jerseys twice before, and won both times. Jerseys, 3 - people who hate Spanish, 0. Not that winning was necessary. But it's nice.

Here are two articles on it - before: "Immigration Takes Center Court at Suns-Spurs Playoffs," and after: "'Los Suns' Join Protest, Then Stop the Spurs."

It's A Breeze

This is funny:

Breaking News: Large Air Spill at Wind Farm. No Threats Reported. Some Claim to Enjoy the Breeze. (Picture.)

Great Theater

And no, I'm not talking about any recent political developments.

In fact, I am talking about the play at Interplayers last night. I went with my friend Jennifer to see "Eleesymonia" (or something like that), about a mother and a daughter and another daughter (and, therefore, granddaughter) and their eccentricities and illusions. I suppose is the best way to describe it. We were left with much food for thought. It was a play thick with layers, and welcoming to the analysis. A modern play, it is left with its kinks and quirks, but it was definitely worth the trip.

It plays through this weekend - no Sunday performance. Check out times and dates at www.interplayers.com.

My Office

In Spokane, my office is in the Undercliff Mansion, which is part of a cluster of old mansions known as the Marycliff Center. We are called the Undercliff because the mansion where we have offices is under a cliff. I have had offices here since 1998. I started in a small one with lowered ceilings - just perfect for a new lawyer starting out with her own practice. For a desk, I got a 1930s wooden kitchen table with the idea that I was there to work with my clients, as a team, rather than sit behind an imposing desk, dictating answers. By 1999, I was in a much larger room, but still with the kitchen table. I added an old voting box from Spokane's earlier days - a tall wooden box with a hole in the top to put the ballots and a place for a padlock (which I didn't keep locked). I kept it by the office door and told people that they were supposed to vote for their favorite lawyer as they left (which was funny, because I was the only lawyer - not just in that office, but the entire building).

Then two years ago, the building owner approached me and asked if I'd be interested in moving to the first floor - to what had been the billiard room (back when the mansion was a home), and the nuns' prayer room (when it had been the Catholic girls' school). It was a room with brick walls and three sides of cathedral style windows. I said yes, furnished it eclectically...

and got a new desk. This time, since what I wanted was to write, the purpose of the desk was to welcome me to it. I found it at a local antique store, and fell in love. It is of 1895 vintage, with scrolly legs (if that's a word) - a dark beautiful wood with a certain delicacy to it. I had a local carpentry shop put small rollers on the bottom of the legs - eight in all, as there are two legs per corner. And I got a round working table that I put to one side that would work as the working area for the law - as a place for clients and me to roll up our sleeves and get to work.

The other day, Larry Wooley from Beautiful Photo Studio - a family-run photo shop in our building - took a series of photos of the office. Below are some of the photos. Aren't they beautiful? Larry did such a wonderfully careful job - so much better than any photo I've taken. Their website is www.yourbeautifulphoto.com.



And then this one is perhaps my favorite - the close up of the dragon.

The King

So I was walking through the kitchen, and glanced in to the yellow room (a room for writing, specially designed), and this is who I saw lying across the writing table:



It appeared that Alex had chosen to own the yellow room yesterday morning... Which is funny, because it's more of a girl's room - it's where I wrote a play that emphasized females, and it's where I plan to write a screenplay that will emphasize a female. It's yellow and purple, with touches of green and white, and is intended to welcome in the light. But it's definitely for the girls. (It is not where I wrote the baseball novel, for instance.)

And yet there he was - Alex - the boy, all boy - solidly claiming the room as his own, laying across exactly the spot where I put my laptop when I write there. The King. Like the Winnie-the-Pooh poem: "I am the king of the earth and the king of the sky..." (I am the king of this room, whether you say so or not...)

Two days ago, I did learn something from my neighbor - the one who owns Venom, Alex's nemesis. Apparently every couple of days, "someone" is leaving a pool of cat piss at her back door. At first she thought it was one of her own cats. We have surmised, however, that it is one of mine. And when I say "one of mine," I don't mean Annie.

Yes, Annie. If Alex is king, then Annie must be queen, right? Except that isn't quite right. It isn't enough, frankly. Instead, Annie is - well, Annie is the angel. Or so I believe. And if I'm posting a photo of Alex acting as king, the least I can do is post a photo of Annie being Annie - the angel in us all.

When Economists Fight

What kind of punches do they throw?

So, this is funny. Apparently Paul Krugman, NYT columnist and economist, wrote a column last year that had a phrase in it about nationalizing banks and then this week Andrew Ross Sorkin, another NYT columnist, called him to task for it. Except it turns out that Krugman didn't exactly say what Sorkin said he said. And then people all around the blogosphere apparently debated the debate. Here's an article summarizing the whole thing, with all the links intact.

In the end, the NYT public editor came out and said Sorkin was wrong for oversimplifying:

I think the right thing to do is to simply acknowledge that, in trying to quickly summarize Krugman's nuanced position, Sorkin over-simplified and got it wrong.

What's funny is that the article in the above link summarized all of the goings-on with a headline about the Krugman/Sorkin feud and a synopsis as:

So, remember back on Monday, when it looked like Andrew Ross Sorkin and Paul Krugman were set to go all Aaron Burr/Alex Hamilton on each other, only with blogs? That was a fascinating time in our lives.

Funny. And you know, for as much as I enjoy reading Krugman columns, and would be naturally interested in what was happening in connection with his name... the real reason I clicked on the link to the summary article was because I wondered how Paul Krugman had gotten into an argument with Aaron Sorkin, of Broadway and Hollywood fame (you know the guy - wrote "West Wing," among other masterpieces). And as I clicked on the link, I thought to myself, you know, Aaron Sorkin's a smart guy - but isn't he wading into waters a little too deep for his knowledge base?

Imagine my surprise. There's more than one Sorkin in NYC?

John Paul II

Expanding the possibility that a pope's problems could be beyond the current pope...

One thought I've been having, as Pope Benedict XVI is getting a thrashing in the press, is that he is somewhat inheriting things that actually belonged to John Paul II - in terms of what hasn't been or wasn't done on behalf of children in the Catholic Church. (It's sort of how, in 2008, John McCain inherited the rancor of unhappy Republicans that G.W. Bush had generated - only this inheritance would be way, way behind the scenes.)

I do know that Benedict, back when he was Ratzinger and in charge of the CDF (called the "Modern Inquisition" office), seemed concerned about Marcial Maciel, a money generator from Mexico and head of his own order called the Legion of Christ. I do know that Ratzinger, once he became Benedict, sent Maciel into a life of prayer and penitence whilst John Paul II had had that same Maciel on a fast-track to canonization. And I did know a fair amount about the allegations that Maciel had groomed young seminarians - recruited from isolated and often poor Mexican towns at tender ages of 10 or 12 - and ultimately abused them sexually. (Newsman Jason Berry, among others, have headed the exposure of stories about Maciel.)

And these past couple weeks, in light of this new wave of concern about the behavior of the Catholic church, I've wondered whether John Paul would continue to escape visible taint.

Not that he was a bad man - just that he made really really bad decisions, imo, when it came to the issue of child abuse. It is my belief, and it was his good treatment of Maciel - in light of such horrific allegations, by many of Maciel's own priests - that in large part brought me to believe that.

Maciel denied any wrongdoing. The Legionaries defended him to the hilt. Money seemed to line coffers.

And now, as it turns out, Maciel also fathered three boys and a girl by two different women. Two of his sons recently accused him of sexually abusing them. (The third boy, youngest of the three, was kept from Maciel, on the insistence of his two older brothers.) As I understand it, the findings of a Vatican investigation will come out by the end of this month. A college owned by the Legionaries went belly up over spring break last week. No money. The National Catholic Reporter apparently has been writing long articles about the group and their money.

What I found particularly helpful for a nutshell version of the money issues here, however, was written by Andrew Sullivan, and his description of all the cash being distributed, right and left, over the years, by the Legionaries to people like Cardinal Sodano, who's the one who talked on Easter day about how we need to ignore all that "petty gossip" out there about those men in the Vatican not doing right by the people who follow their lead....

Here is Sullivan's synopsis. Totally worth the read: http://andrewsullivan.theatlantic.com/the_daily_dish/2010/04/the-vaticans-watergate-follow-the-money.html

Building Spokane History

Brick by brick...

Over the weekend there was an article in the local newspaper (the Spokesman) that told how the repaving of Lincoln Street - a main road on the South Hill - between 17th and 29th Avenues had hit a bit of a snag. Turns out, way back decades ago, before asphalt took over, the road had been paved with red bricks. Rather than dig up the bricks back then, they had just paved over them. This time, when the construction went to dig up the road to repave it from scratch, they ran into beautifully aligned bricks that sat on their edge in sweet "v" shaped forms.

(It appears to be an article accessible without a subscription. So here's a link.)

The article quotes a local neighbor as saying, “Those bricks are just like new – as even and level and true as they were originally. Except for 100 years of dirt.”

There was also a rumor running through the neighborhood that the bricks came from "Henry Brooks' old brickyard" - what is now beautiful Cannon Park - which sits right there just east of Lincoln, between about 17th and 20th. According to the article, that's how Cannon Park was born - because of the dip in the land where the clay had been, there was a space ready for a small, man-made lake. And the city made it. Voila.

The article said that the bricks belonged to the construction company (!) - but that the company didn't mind if the locals picked up a brick or two in memory of the past. (I'm still stuck on the idea that the company owns these bricks. How can that be? How can there even be a legitimate contract that allows the city to bargain away its citizens' right to a piece of history???)

On Saturday, I went to the grocery store - Rosauers, a locally-owned chain, my neighborhood store - at 14th and Lincoln to pick up some groceries, saw the construction signs, remembered the article and thought, hey! I need some bricks! I knew picking up one or two was allowed by the Benevolent Construction Company (that otherwise planned to gather the bricks - hundreds of thousands of them, according to the article - and sell them down the road - yucky...), so I headed that way. I parked my car on a side street and walked towards Lincoln. It started to snow, and the wind whipped around. I shivered - it's April! - but kept on going.

And then, there they were. Thousands of bricks, neatly stacked on their sides, in "v" shapes, all running up and down the street. Mostly the exposed ones were on the sides of the street, near the sidewalks. But still I could see them and, in an instant, could imagine this brick-laid street from the 1910s, and 20s - maybe even through the 30s or 40s... Here's a not-great close-up of it - where you can kind of see the bricks in layers, going back...

And as it often can happen in moments like these, the synchronicities of life took over and there appeared an 80-something-year-old man who happened to be taking a walk right as I arrived at the street. We started laughing about the weather. He suggested that, if we waited long enough, there would be enough snow to have a snowball fight. I told him why I was there - he told me he remembered the bricks getting paved sometime in the 1930s - I told him I have this baseball novel about the 1946 Spokane Indians team - and the bus crash - and that he probably remembered that - he said of course, and how he knew Levi McCormack (one of the players - a Nez Perce Indian and leader of the team) and explained how most stores in town wouldn't sell alcohol to Indians back then - only Ralphs, at 14th and Lincoln, where the Rosauers now sits - and they always were nice to Levi - and how he had played golf with Levi and he remembered one time when Levi hit the ball a long way - (I'm not a golfer, so the length didn't impress me enough for me to keep the number in my head)... And this man looked at me in awe, so I looked back at him like, wow - that's impressive.

And then he told me how Levi used to live on 12th, over by Maple. I said - well, that's near where I live!! (How is that possible?) I grilled him about the location - sounded about three blocks from where I am now - and then I grilled him about exactly when, so I can go and look it up in the reverse city directory in the downtown library. How cool might that be? That I wrote this novel just blocks from where Levi McCormack once lived.

(That's already true about another story I want to do - a screenplay that involves Spokane at the turn of the 20th century - several of the "characters" of the screenplay lived just blocks from where I live now...)

So then I thought I should get this man's contact information, or name even, but he already was leaving, walking up Lincoln, too hard of hearing to hear me call after him... so I let him go. And turned to the man who had arrived with a pick ax. Told him why I was there - he nodded, told me he was there for the same thing. "Can I take your photo?" I asked. He blanched. "Well, how about if I take a photo of your pick ax?" I suggested. He thought that would be all right.

So here's a photo of the man's pick ax at the bricks:

So THEN I went to my friend's house to drop off a birthday present for her husband, and I told her the story from Saturday, and she said she'd been sick and hadn't been able to go get her own commemorative set of bricks (I'd picked up one and a half and a piece as a trilogy) and she said she thought perhaps I should give her one, and I said they're a set, I can't break up a set - and then she said she's the one who does all the research on Spokane's history, and that I should see her books stacked up, and then I said that I'm the one who wrote the $#!!* book, and we both were laughing as we each tried to outdo the other... And they really were bricks that belonged to her, I could tell, so I brought them in and we set them down in front of the fairy fountain that I gave to her a few years ago as a birthday present (birthdays around that house seem to do me in).... Can you see them on the patio there? Right in front of the fountain...

So then it was still only dusk, and I was driving home, and I thought, heck, maybe there's more brick still there.... And I went and there they were - thousands, still - and I grabbed one and a half and three pieces (a set of five, this time - seemed right) - and there they are, still on the floor of the passenger side of my car, waiting to find a permanent home.

And now I hear that the construction company doesn't even want local people taking any bricks away - what a neighborly approach - so there's nothing left to do but enjoy the few pieces of history that they did permit to leave.

Happy Alchemy Day!

Lutherans have the best music. At least for singing.

I went to St. Mark's Lutheran Church this a.m. for Easter service. It was great. I kept singing that "alleluia" song in my head yesterday - you know the one - plays at Easter time - the "Christ the Lord has risen today" one - and I wanted to hear it and sing it in a room full of people, and I knew they'd play it at the service. It's a guarantee. And they did. It was the opening procession song. Loved, loved it. And then they played all kinds of other "alleluia" songs - Easter's such a time of spring and cheer - and they had trumpets and a timpani drum and a chorus that sang "Hallelujah" from Handel's Messiah ("King of kings, and Lord of lords...") ("forever, and ever, hallelujah, hallelujah...")

So great. I sang loud, hopefully not too badly, and definitely as part of the whole congregation. Best stuff ever. I like Christmas music too - certainly there's more of it - but those alleluia songs at Easter time are just full of life.

Easter's a favorite holiday of mine, especially as years progress and I appreciate better the rebirthing in the spring, and after dark soul nights. It is what alchemy means - the burning away - the phoenix - dying from the old and birthing into the new... It is the four-plus-one formula of alchemy - the tomato seed churning in the hothouse (with earth, air, water and heat - the four elements - urging it into fruition) - it is Ezekiel's chariot - the Jerusalem Cross - with the hands, the feet, the crown of thorns and then the piercing in the side... to birth the Sacred Heart...

I do place faith in Jesus' story - how the whole set-up, the whole ordeal was for us - that sacrifice - and that any dark night of the soul that I may travel is made easier because of that day on the cross. I also believe that we can learn from that story, understand our own burdens and joys from that perspective, grow from there.... And so being there at the church this morning - with all those Northern European descendants smiling at me, looking like my grandmother probably does this morning, accepting my attire (I probably dressed a little too casually) (my grandmother would not have approved!) - it was perfect. I don't think I could have found a better place to be.

photo credit: sleepyneko, found here

The Wild, Wild West

Okay, so this is a Huckleberries week. And I was late to the most recent party! So no postings by me. Still, the link is worth the read.

Yesterday afternoon, DFO (our fearless leader) posted an entry on Rocky Mountain Oysters - with a picture and everything! And the puns began, with DFO beginning the parade with a reference to Dr. Seuss' "Green Eggs and Ham."

For those who might not be aware... well, just read the posting. But they truly are a type of cuisine. My rancher friends in Wyoming served them at a dinner party I attended. I tasted one. It wasn't awful. And I have driven past the sign in Montana that says to be sure and stop by for their Testicle Festival (though apparently the festival itself has morphed into more than that - and not in a good way).

What I didn't know - and what I found out from yesterday's comments on HBO - is that it's a tradition to dine on them after the "cutting" on ranches all throughout the West. (eww...)

photo credit: K.W. Sanders, found here

Trying Times

So my entry a couple days ago on Pope Benedict XVI ended up causing somewhat of a ruckus over at the newspaper's Huckleberries, my favorite local round-up blog. It started when DFO (Dave Oliviera, our fearless leader) listed at this link my "pope's problems" blog entry from a couple days ago as a "recommended reading" link. Cabbage Boy commented on the church and the media (which I figured referenced me a little, but not directly) and then Spokelooneh said "Beth is right" and posted a longer entry. At that point, I figured I should get involved, and so I said this:

Thanks, Spoke. I have a lot of conflicting feelings about this pope, that I didn't post on my blog - including the horror I felt when he was elected (since he'd previously been in charge of the CDF, which is the current grand inquisitor office - still sits on the same land, in fact); and then the hope that I had as he took certain actions and said certain things over the past couple of years on this issue… and then now, when I just feel sucker punched, realizing those had to have been political moves, at least in part. And I knew that before. It just wasn't “in my face” at the time.

I don't know why I get my hopes up, just to have them dashed upon the rocks. I posted what I did on my blog because I felt an obligation to say something. And what I said, I felt I could say with conviction. Absolutely, this pope has known, as has every leader in the church. It's the structure of the church that makes it so….

So then Cabbage Boy asked me what my real issue with the Church is - that they don't ordain women as priests? And I said oh my gosh, no. Here's what I said:

Oh. CB. I was one of the lawyers on the Catholic cases over here in Spokane. My issue is about children, and the cover-up, and how that happened, and how I expect it to happen again because the hierarchy has changed the letter of its law but just simply has not understood the spirit. I'm pretty outspoken about my issue here. No hidden agenda. Sure, I think it would make sense to have women priests and/or flexibility with celibacy rules, things like that. But those aren't issues for me. I certainly have never said anything about those issues, nor did I ever critique the Catholic church until after Boston erupted in 2002.

I am lucky that the priests I have known in any depth have all been amazing men, men of God. My issue is not with those individual efforts - it is with the hierarchical structure that lent itself to obfuscation and cover-up, and continues to do so. Nothing less than the safety of children is at stake.

Then others (Sue in particular) said that yes, the issue just may be the lack of ordination of women, and then there was more back and forth.. And then DFO (our fearless leader) decided to post my first comment as its separate link and asked people if they thought the Catholic church was doing what it could to ensure children's protection. And the overall comments were, no. It isn't (with Sisyphus apologizing to Cabbage Boy - apparently the topic has arisen before). Here's a link to that discussion.

What I appreciate is how my local community - blogging and otherwise - have made efforts to grapple with this issue these past couple of days - a discussion that is taking place in other pockets around the country and the world. To me, that's a silver lining. These aren't easy questions, and it isn't an easy topic to discuss. But at least people are trying.

The Pope's Problems - with UPDATE

People - friends, family members - have been emailing articles this week about the problems that have arisen these past couple of weeks for the Catholic church and for Pope Benedict XVI in particular. They include actual admissions of responsibility (!) by some of the hierarchy in Ireland; a revelation of truth about the way the office of the current pope - then known as Cardinal Ratzinger - encouraged the cover-up of priest abuse at a school in Wisconsin for the deaf; and more revelations about an abusive priest in Germany back when Benedict was Ratzinger and the Archibishop of the area.

Not only are the articles out there - I get sent about a link a day from various people - but there is a sense of renewed outrage and disgust by Catholics themselves, it seems. This is just my impression. But it seems to me that Catholics are angry at the church for these truths as they unfold.

Me? My surprise is not at the stories themselves. It is at the apparent shock of others that these stories exist.

Here's the deal. Back in 2002, when Boston erupted, the Catholic church's hierarchy put bandaids on anything that moved. They didn't replace bishops - they promoted them (like they did with Cardinal Law). There was no house cleaning - there was just a new version of covering things up. So how in the heck can I be surprised by specific evidence that the current pope - who has been part of this hierarchy for decades - would somehow not get caught up in revelations about pre-2002 cover-up efforts? Of course he played a role in it. How could he not have played a role? As it says in that last article I linked above, about what the current pope did (or did not do) as an archbishop in Germany:

The case is alarming, wrote the German newspaper Die Zeit last week, not “because Ratzinger was guilty of an exceptional offense.”

“It is the other way around: It is significant because the archbishop acted as probably most other dignitaries in those years,” it wrote. “In 1980 Joseph Ratzinger was part of the problem that preoccupies him today.”

My friends and I have been wondering how the pope would react to this new criticism. We all found out today, when he condemned the "petty gossip" surrounding all the above. Too clever by half, I think. Indeed, here is the summary of his sins in the "gossip" article:

The then-Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger was the archbishop of Munich when a priest was allowed to resume pastoral work with children even while receiving therapy for paedophilia. He was subsequently convicted of abusing minors. In addition, a case has come to light in which Ratzinger's deputy at the Vatican doctrinal office told Wisconsin bishops to quash a church trial for a priest alleged to have abused up to 200 deaf boys.

The Vatican insists the pope was unaware of the Munich priest's move to the pastoral job and has defended its handling of the Wisconsin case.

Doesn't that make it "gossip" with a record?

For me, the phenomenon is not that the pope looks complicit. For me, the phenomenon is that people are surprised. I always wondered how people (Catholics in particular) could have any reaction to the priest abuse crisis that was less than outrage. Now though, maybe I get it - it must be because they didn't really believe the whole Church could possibly be involved. It must be a few bad apples, not the entire Church (is what people must have thought) - it must be a coincidence that all the U.S. bishops sent their pedophile priests to the same retreat center in New Mexico.... Etc. Etc.

So, good. Be outraged now. Feel the betrayal now. Stretch into its parameters, and beyond. Better late than never. Just - don't think the hierarchy didn't know. They had to know. How could they not have known?

(and so I wonder as I sit on this beautiful Sunday morning, and listen to "Kyrie/Alleluia" music, and hope that this time, this time, the clear voice of Grace can be heard above the din...)

UPDATE: So things continue to unravel for the Pope. Here is an article about how his CDF office let flounder an investigation into a very scary priest in AZ - with the striking sentence that "The church considers cases of abuse in confessionals more serious than other molestations because they also defile the sacrament of penance." (!!) And here is a New York Times article on how a senior Vatican priest on Good Friday compared these new questions surrounding the church with the persecution of the Jews, and how pretty much everyone was astounded at the comparison. (I mean, seriously? Seriously?). He has since apologized for the comparison. Really, it cannot be done. This is not a witch hunt. As discussed in the New York Times article, it is a series of questions of who did what, who knew what, and when did they know it, and will they be held accountable for it. Period.

And then now, on Easter, as the church leaders rally around the Pope, one has to reiterate the theme of "gossip" and then start talking about the persecution that Jesus went through. Really, shouldn't they stay more grounded than that? Until the words "gossip" and "persecution" are taken out of their responses, the Church will not be able to regain any semblance of authority here, imo. And yes, there are words today, on Easter, of repentance and apology too. They are also a part of this truth.

The Reformation

I blogged a lot last year on health care reform. I wrote a lot on the public option - give people a place to pay their premiums! - and I went to congressional meetings (one with Maria Cantwell, one with Cathy McMorris Rodgers). I was horrified at the traction that the phrase "death panels" got, when all the bill proposed was to give people the opportunity to not have to pay for a discussion with their doctor on end-of-life issues.

And even when I stopped writing about it - at some point these last couple of months, so exhausted I was by the rhetoric - I still followed it. I didn't actually sit and watch the seven-hour meeting between the parties, but I read synopses of it - cared about it - agreed with Sen. McCain that the special side deals should be taken out, was buoyed when the President said "good point".... I even got the chance to feel like a Microsoft commercial (you know, the ones where a single person who shared an idea with Microsoft believes the company actually got his email and ran with the improvement) because, on a recent Thursday, I called Maria Cantwell's office in D.C. and said that something needed to be done about all those pet projects, it was the principal of the matter, that I'm the choir for them and even I am unhappy about that... And then two days later, the Prez asked that the pet project funding be taken out of the final bill. Wow, I thought. I need to make phone calls more often!

But I didn't take part in that final push of phone calls this past week. I was still discouraged by the private deals, I suppose. Besides, in my corner of the world, the votes were already essentially cast (senators in favor, representative opposed). I did get the emails asking that I take this action or that... but for better or for worse, I let them slide.

Then, this past weekend, somehow I started to feel the enormity of it - how this was doing something that had simply not been doable at any other time - that this really was happening. I felt proud of the people who had kept on keeping on. I felt gratified that I had, at least, helped out early on, and periodically. And I was suddenly glad to see the bill pass, frailties and all.

Then on Tuesday, I received an email from Mitch Stewart, head of Organizing for America. The president wanted to talk to me. Well, now, apparently he also wanted to talk to his 500,000 or so closest friends (don't really know the number, am just guessing) but still, I was invited. "For all my hard work," the email said - or some such thing. Hmm.... I felt a little guilty, since I hadn't been working all that hard in recent weeks.

But still, I got on the call. And I heard the president thank us all. And I had a few tears, as I realized again the mountain that had been moved, by this bill being signed. He called it an "improbable journey" - and it was. He told us to savor the moment - and we did. He said that the bill "enshrines the idea that everyone" should have some security when it comes to health care - not just some, but everyone - and that once the principle is enshrined, it means that people will have enormously more secure lives than they do now. And he said that neither illness nor accident should endanger the American dream. That last line - schmaltzy, you know? - but it's right. He's right. It matters that much, at that much of a core level.

He said there was more work, to help explain what the bill really contains (and he went through a list - he mentioned, btw, that Congress will be on the exchange when it gets in place, which does give some hope that the exchange will work). He said - in response to a question - that one thing he learned was to stay focused, stay with the big picture, and then stay dogged. And then he said again, thanks - that our hard work was his inspiration.

This morning, I went on line and a few things warmed my heart again. One was this clip from the signing ceremony, where he spoke about young Marcelas. And then there was this excerpt from Teddy Kennedy's obituary from 2009 - from the Boston Globe:

Despite his illness, Senator Kennedy made a forceful appearance at the Democratic convention in Denver, exhorting his party to victory and declaring that the fight for universal health insurance had been "the cause of my life.’’

He pursued that cause vigorously, and even as his health declined, he spent days reaching out to colleagues to win support for a sweeping overhaul; when members of Obama’s administration questioned the president’s decision to spend so much political capital on the seemingly intractable health care issue, Obama reportedly replied, "I promised Teddy.’’

Those are the kinds of promises that have to be kept.

Exciting Game!

So I went to watch the Gonzaga women's basketball game last night with my friends whose niece is on the team. What a great game! So exciting. A nail biter. They seriously played an amazing game. One of their stalwart players was having an off night, but another player just stepped up instead. She ultimately got Player of the Game, she played so well - and scored the final jump shot that took them ahead and kept them there. We just jumped up and shouted at all the excitement. My throat is sore this a.m. This Gonzaga team has what great teams have - that kind of heart and teamwork that makes the difference in the close games.

And now on to the Sweet 16, for the first time ever. Congratulations, Gonzaga!

Freedom!

That hoopla you're hearing is Alex running around outside, yelling "freedom!" in meow language. Yes indeed, he got his stitches out yesterday. Everything's healed up well, or so it appears. He yowled all the way to the vet's office, but then was patient and cooperative when they took out all those itchy stitches and scabs from the side of his head. I told them he'd gotten kind of stinky (he of the fastidious cleaning habits!) because every time I took off the cone to let him tidy up, he'd start to mess with his ear and I would have to put the cone back on.... He wasn't bad, or filthy, he just wasn't as pristine as he prefers. So then they took a q-tip to his ears and he got a very contented look on his face like "oh, yes - right there..." as they cleaned out his ears for him.

I did ask if there were any rules at this point. "Well, don't let him get in the water," they said - apparently it's the instruction they give to dog owners - and we all laughed at the image of me putting him in the car and running him down to the lake just to try to throw him in. Guess who will end up with stitches if I try to do that!

Then we came home, and I opened the car door, and he leapt out, coneless, and looked at me like, "you're going to allow this?" Yep. You are free, I said.

It didn't take long for his nemesis Venom to come up and try to see how he was doing. I knew Venom was there without even looking because Alex crouched and growled in that low gutteral growl that he has when he's warning off enemies. This is what he looked like in that moment. Can you see how his fur is up on his back as he crouches forward?

I figured I wouldn't see Alex for days, now that he had his freedom back. But he stopped by the house after half an hour for a little snack, went back out, and bounced back and forth between the house and the outside for the next couple of hours. Then last night, he decided to cuddle up with me last night, even without that darn cone on his head. He's such a sweet guy. And a happy one. And one with freedom again.

The Silver Lining

Well, both my college basketball teams lost - Gonzaga and Maryland. At least Maryland made it a contest. Sigh.

But there is a silver lining (besides all the wonderful basketball there was! so much fun to watch all the games). On Saturday night, the Gonzaga women's team won their game against UNC, in spectacular form. You can tell that they have been playing as a team for awhile. They just gelled. The niece of some friends of mine plays on the team, so I have followed them over the past couple years, and always look for her name in the paper. My gosh, they were good on Saturday! They play tonight again. I'll be watching...

Perfect World

Don't jostle it...

The Zags won. And so did University of Maryland (my law school alma mater). Maryland is actually playing in Spokane, though I didn't go see the game in person. Sigh. And the Zags - Gonzaga Bulldogs, for anyone who's confused - did try to lose. They went way up in the first half, waned a bit down the stretch in the second, then played really really smartly (word?) and ended up with a solid win.

So I'm basking in the outcomes today. And loving the two coaches, who have both been at their programs for decades and who both seem to approach the game in an overarching, student-comes-first way. (That would be Mark Few and Gary Williams.)

Tomorrow will be the next set of games. And anything can happen. Today, though - today is a day to enjoy outcomes, and the memories of games well played.