I grew up as the daughter of an abused child. My grandfather, and his father before that, were the villains of our family. I grew up recognizing the symptoms of child abuse in my mother, and I learned how to handle their manifestations which often shocked or overwhelmed people who were not familiar with them. When I was about 9, I watched my mother yank a truck driver out of the cab of his semi. He had been speeding, tail-gating and menacing us on the road, and his threatening behavior flipped the little switch in my mother’s brain which had developed after years of abuse. Her rational brain shut off; she was on auto-pilot, reacting solely to what she perceived as a bully using his position to frighten and endanger her and her children. When she came to a stop sign, she got out of the car, stalked back to his truck and hauled him out. He practically fell on top of her as she was screaming at him. Luckily for her, he was a small man, and he was so taken aback by her fury, he just stammered something about her being “crazy,” scrambled back into his cab and sped away.

Despite her occasional scary outbursts, my mom never abused me or my sister. She was one of those amazing victims who was able to stop the cycle of violence, and for that, she will always be a hero to me. But I did have to learn to watch for “the signs” that the switch was about to flip. In any situation where she saw bullying, where someone bigger and stronger was threatening someone smaller and weaker, particularly if the bully was a man, and the victim was a woman, child or animal, I could see my mom’s back stiffen, her jaw would set, and something would come into her eyes that eventually became familiar to me, although I cannot name it. On more than one occasion, I have had to physically restrain her from going after a complete stranger who was behaving badly.

That’s my mom. She’s the champion of the little guy, and I love that about her, but it can be frightening. On a handful of occasions, she’s turned that fury on people she loved, though never in a violent way. Years of tangling with my grandfather - a very intelligent, ex-military, professional boxer - have turned my mom into a formidable fighter. She can argue with you for days! She will pull out all the stops too. If she feels threatened, that switch will flip, and you’re in for a long, nasty haul. As I said, I can recognize the signs and avoid the marathon arguments. Growing up with my mom taught me some very useful things about adult victims of child abuse.

Which brings me to the real reason for writing this blog entry. In 1996, I met the man who would become my husband. An ex-boyfriend of mine called me up and said he wanted to introduce me to his new roommate, Sean. (Yes, I know it’s unusual - I had a pattern of breaking up with guys without alienating them.) I walked into their quintessential bachelor pad - all high-end wi-fi stereo, big screen TV, video game systems, wires everywhere, a few mismatched sticks of ancient furniture, empty pizza boxes and beer cans and overflowing ash trays. My guy was standing in the middle of the room with an electric guitar slung around his shoulders and a lit cigarette tucked between the strings at the top of the guitar. It was love at first sight.

More than that, though, we were a perfect match, if there is such a thing. Partly because Sean is an adult victim of child abuse like my mom. I’ve always said that God sent him to me because there aren’t many women in the world who have been raised by an abused parent without having been abused themselves. Sean could not have married an abused person; he could not have married someone without the learned strategies for dealing with the symptoms. It had to be someone like me. Someone who had the knowledge without the baggage.

So let me tell you about that baggage. Like my mother, Sean has a switch. On a few occasions, I’ve had to restrain him from going after strangers as well. In fact, on one family vacation, I was sitting between my mom and my husband when a little girl came flying out of the restaurant in whose terrace we were dining. The little girl was about 3 or 4, and she was crying frantically. A split-second behind her came her mother, who looked like hell on wheels. She was furiously stalking her child out into the plaza, and when she caught up with her, she yanked that little girl right out of her shoes. Sean and Mom were on their feet in an instant, and I was clinging to their arms when the little girl’s father came to rescue his daughter from his overwrought wife.

Another odd and annoying bit of baggage from abuse has to do with food. Like my mom, Sean has myriad food “issues.” His abusive stepmother made chicken a lot. So chicken is a problem. If you’re a cook, you recognize what a major complication that is. Sean and my mom are both incredibly picky eaters. My 9-year-old is easier to cook for than either of them. I read an article that indicated many victims of child abuse have eating disorders because of the control factor. What they put into their mouths is one of the few things an abused child can control. They use it as a defensive weapon just as abusers will use it to punish them. Sean won’t eat peach-flavored foods, stewed tomatoes, cooked carrots and several other foods that he associates with his abuser.

Then there is the hypochondria. I read an article about this too. Abused children often develop it as a defense mechanism because many abusers will not be as violent if they believe their victim is already weakened from another source. I guess it takes the fun out of hitting the child. Nice, huh? Well, that hypochondria doesn’t go away when the child grows up and escapes the abuse. If you ask my mom or my husband how they’re feeling, they’ll give you a laundry list of ailments; their hair is falling out, their right earlobes are sore, their pancreas is twitchy, and their left toenails are loose - stuff like that. I try to be patient with that because sometimes, I swear I can see the 9-year-old version of my husband in his eyes when he is whining about not feeling good, and I remember that it’s not a character flaw. It’s a defense mechanism.

And that brings me to the elephant in the room, the person I have seen only once for about 5 seconds from a distance in the dark. The person I would most like to believe is reading this blog, but she won’t - my husband’s ex-step-mother. My letter to her:

Mrs. Whatever-Your-Last-Name-Is-Now (since you can’t get a husband to stay with you for long),

I’ve been dealing with the consequences of your cruelty for several years longer than you actually had the victim in your power. I believe your abuse of my husband lasted about seven years; I’ve been with him for over 14.

If you’ve actually read the preceding paragraphs, you can see some of the results of your abuse. In addition to having a hair-trigger reaction to bullies, difficult food phobias, and mild hypochondria, my husband is an agnostic. It’s a tribute to his logical mind and strength of character that he’s not a simple atheist.  I understand that one of your excuses for beating him was that you believed God wanted you to, but you were such a devout Christian, such an active church member, such a religious woman, no one would believe Sean’s stories. You told him he was evil and deserved the beatings you inflicted. Did you know that little boy used to pray every night, begging God to make him good so you’d stop hitting him? And when God didn’t answer in the way Sean expected, Sean decided He probably didn’t exist. Thanks for that, lady. I’m working every day to undo that bit of damage. Occasionally, I’ll feel like I’m making a tiny bit of progress, then Sean will hear Pat Robertson or some other televangelist make some ridiculously unkind pronouncement against an unfortunate bunch of people who obviously deserve their pain, and we’re right back. In those cases, he always mentions you. And when Sarah Palin was running for Vice President, he was reminded of you because of her illogical, holier-than-thou demeanor. I have to run interference, trying to live as a better example of a loving, forgiving CHRISTian than you or those other angry, paranoid posers so that Sean will perhaps, one day, forgive God for leaving him in your clutches for so long.

For all those reasons, your existence is often cursed in our home - by me, by my husband, sometimes even by our son, who is now old enough to understand the damage you did. In fact, your name is a code word in our family for “villain.” You are THE evil stepmother, the ogre, the wicked witch of all our bedtime stories. To speak your name, however, is to cast a pall over our home, so we don’t say it often. You’re the “Voldemort” of our family.

Yet, Sean, like my mom, is such a remarkable individual that he has chosen not to continue the cycle of abuse. He never touches our children in anger; he gets upset with me if I occasionally swat their behinds. Spanking is not a punishment in our home. He is a magnificent father, in spite of you. His children adore him. I know you cannot say the same of your children.

Sean has a great life. He has a good job that pays enough for me to work only part-time so I can stay home with our young kids. He has some terrific friends who think he’s brilliant and fun. He has two beautiful, healthy, smart, well-behaved children who think he hung the moon just for them. And he’s got me, his wife of 12 years. I believe that’s longer than any of your marriages have lasted, and we’re still going strong. I think he’s amazing. He’s a genius, did you know that? He’s smarter than I am, and I’m a National Merit Scholar, a college lecturer with 3 degrees, a published author. Sean blows me away intellectually. His family and friends continue to be impressed by his intelligence.

He’s kind too. Like the other men in the Mahoney family, he loves animals and has some weird cat attraction that brings every feline within a mile radius to our door. Like my mom, he won’t let any harm come to an animal or child if he can help it. His kindness is accompanied by bravery; for that reason, he’s the type of person bullies fear. Maybe that’s why my grandfather kept his distance on the three occasions he met Sean.

Sean has an amazing gift for sizing people up. He will meet someone new, and later in the evening, I’ll ask him, “What do you think of So-and-So?” And I always take his judgment to heart because he is always right. The people for whom he gets a bad first impression inevitably turn out to be unworthy of our friendship. If he doesn’t trust someone, we keep our children away them. Needless to say, you will never come near Sean’s kids.

Together, we have created the kind of rich life you can only envy from afar because people like you cannot manage it. We have a nice house full of love and laughter and happy memories. We take crazy family vacations to wonderful places like Disney World, the Black Hills, the Rocky Mountains, the Grand Canyon. We drive for hours together, and we enjoy each others’ company.

So the damage you inflicted on Sean, the damage my deceased grandfather inflicted on my mom, and the damage so many other abusers inflict on their victims has some lasting, annoying side effects. But the smart victims, the strong victims, the lucky victims get the last laugh. They get to choose the rest of their lives.  I have been blessed to witness the lives of my husband and my mom, two remarkable people who are so much better than you, it seems a shame they have to share the same planet with you. You will never be as loved as they are.

May God have mercy on your twisted soul.

Jennifer Price Mahoney

My husband chastised me the other day because my blog’s been idle for a while. I admit, I’ve been lax, but I do have some really good excuses if you’re interested! First, I’ve been in summer school hell. Like an idiot, I accepted a double assignment which means I’m teaching two classes covering 15 weeks’ material in 6 weeks. I’m a lesson planning-student-email-responding-paper-grading automaton! Second, the novel that has been gestating in my brain for the past 8 years has decided it’s time to be born. So in between my manic teaching work, I’ve been spending most of my writing time writing that. And finally, well, most of my blog stuff’s been focused on current events, and the oil spill in the Gulf has been dominating that spectrum for a while. The whole fiasco simply paralyzes me with disappointment and anxiety. I am so angry with BP, disappointed in our government’s response, devastated about the environmental impact, and grief-stricken for the people of that region, I don’t want to write more than these few lines about it. Soooooooo…

My guilt-ridden conscience thus temporarily cleared, I can move on to something kinda fun.

As an English teacher with a couple of degrees in literature, I am often asked for summer reading recommendations. Now if you were talking to me in person, I’d ask you several questions about your personal tastes before I would presume to recommend anything because the possibilities are really endless. Plus, I have some rather particular tastes in reading materials, especially the stuff I read in my free time.

Since you’re just reading this blog, though, I’ll list my personal favorites. Please bear in mind that I read some rather heavy stuff for my professional work, so in the summer, I tend to read fun, low-impact books. I love Dante, Shakespeare and Henry James, but I’m not going to recommend them for light reading on the beach. Please don’t hold the fluff in this list against me!

In no particular order:

Wishful Drinking by Carrie Fisher: A memoir of Princess Leia’s life, growing up in a celebrity family. Painfully funny, it is particularly fascinating if you are remotely interested in Hollywood history. The only thing I didn’t like about it was that it wasn’t three times as long.

Fool by Christopher Moore: A retelling of Shakespeare’s King Lear from the fool’s perspective. I’ve been a Christopher Moore fan for years, but I was leery of his taking on my beloved bard, especially Lear, which is my favorite Shakespearean tragedy. Moore is irreverent, hilarious and dirty, so I had my doubts. I needn’t have worried; it is hilarious, and his love for this magnificent play is obvious just behind all the four-letter words and naughty bits.

Angels and Demons/ Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown: Imaginative novels about Catholic conspiracies. If you’re one of the few Americans left who haven’t read these, pick ‘em up at your local library or used book store. They’re fun, fast-paced, and intriguing, especially Angels and Demons, which moves at a near-breakneck pace that keeps your nose in the book right until the rather farfetched end. I can’t recommend the third one because I haven’t read it yet. I refuse to shell out $30 for a hardback, so I’ll wait until it’s available at the library.

Stephanie Plum novels by Janet Evanovich: Series of mysteries about an unlikely bounty hunter in New Jersey. These are pure fluff, but I was hooked when my sister lent me the 9^th book in the series, and I read the line: “Punky Balog had an ass like Winnie the Pooh…big and fat and furry.” That was the first page, and it just got funnier from there. They’re all filled with wild characters and improbable fumbles – the kind of stories I have to stop and read pieces aloud to my husband now and then.

Sex with Kings/Sex with the Queen by Eleanor Herman: A whirlwind tour of European history via royal bedrooms. I’m a sucker for European history, so I love Herman’s books. They’re not your high school history textbooks, for sure. All the juicy particulars of romance, passion, sex, and political intrigue are woven into real history to make it come alive in lurid detail - everything from tsarist Russia to Prince Charles and Princess Di.

Murder of Roger Ackroyd by Agatha Christie: Murder mystery with a twist before twists were cool. My mom has read every Christie novel. I’ve read about a dozen or so, and the Hercule Poirot stories are my favorites. This one is a classic. Think M. Night Shyamalan before his father was even a twinkle in his grandfather’s eye.

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley: The monster classic. I taught this to freshmen a few years back, and I was worried. The course was designed for non-majors, and I feared the 18^th-century language and sensibilities might turn them off. I warned them to forget about watching any of the film adaptations and faking their way through discussions; this is nothing like what you think you know about Frankenstein. They loved it. It’s actually an easy read despite its age, and it is still fascinating and disturbing and thought-provoking.

Dracula by Bram Stoker: The other monster classic. Again, forget what you think you know. Even more so than Frankenstein, Dracula has been done some terrible disservice by Hollywood. Stoker’s novel is far richer in characters, plot and paranoia than any of the film adaptations. This novel is what I started to write my Master’s thesis on, so it’s a personal favorite. I’ve read it about 20 times. A couple scenes still give me chills!

Around the World in 80 Days by Jules Verne: An adventure tale about an OCD British gentleman who makes an outrageous wager. If you ever watched “Frasier” with Kelsey Grammer and David Hyde-Pierce, you’ll recognize Phileas Fogg’s type – fastidious, exacting, particular, and over-educated. But you can’t help but fall in love with him as he battles his way around the 19^th-century globe. I read this to my 8-year-old son, and we had a blast following Fogg’s travels.

Carter Beats the Devil by Glen David Gold : Historical fiction about a magician in 1920’s San Francisco. I love historical fiction done well. This novel is full of surprises and keeps you guessing until the end. Supposedly, it was just picked up by Warner Brothers for a film adaptation. That’s been a rumor for a while, though, so don’t wait for the movie.

The Alienist by Caleb Carr: Historical fiction about a profiler in turn-of-the-century New York City. Sherlock Holmes does Jack the Ripper in the United States. Sort of. This book is dark and twisty with cameos by great historical figures like Teddy Roosevelt.

Alice In Wonderland/Through the Looking Glass by Lewis Carroll: Classic children’s fantasies. Most people (including myself, obviously) label these as children’s books, but they are so deep and full of tricks and word plays children would never catch, I think it’s a shame to dismiss them or relegate them to a genre where adults who never read them as kids will feel foolish picking them up. They are amazing, and I find myself quoting them all the time: “If you do such a thing again, I’ll have you buttered!”

So there you go. I wish I hadn’t read any of these so I could read them all this summer for the first time. They are such fun to discover. If you’re fortunate enough not to have read some of them, I envy you.

Meanwhile, I shall trudge off into the unknown bookshelves, mining for gems. Happy reading!

I grew up in a Christian church. My mom taught Sunday school; my dad played Michelangelo to our pastor’s Pope Julius. I never questioned my faith, nor did I ever really think about it much. Until the day our married pastor’s multiple affairs with female church members was uncovered. He resigned in disgrace; the church was rocked. My dad was really shaken. It was 1986, and it was the first time a fellow Christian challenged my faith.

We didn’t know it then, but our pastor was at the forefront of a national trend there in the late 1980’s: Jimmy Swaggart, Jim and Tammy Faye Bakker, Peter Popoff. Seems like the televangelists just make it harder to be a Christian, much less try to convince others to become one. Every time I feel like I’m making some headway with my agnostic husband, Pat Robertson makes some ridiculous pronouncement about 9/11 being the fault of American homosexuals or the Haiti earthquake being the result of a pact with the devil (CBS News, 1/14/10).

Sadly, I have noticed for several years now that it’s not the “threats” from outside my inherited religion that really make me scratch my head. I have Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist and Unitarian Universalist friends. I have atheist friends. I’m married to an agnostic. I can have wonderful, thoughtful, respectful conversations with them. We do not proselytize or try to convert one another, but what we usually discover is that, despite our different faiths (or lack thereof), we have a lot in common.

On the other hand, the nastiest, most paranoid, angriest conversations I have had about religion have been with people who supposedly share my faith. For example, this semester I had a student who introduced himself to me on the first day as “a very conservative Christian.” I told him we should probably get along well then, for I was a Christian too. But that wasn’t enough for this young man. He wanted to know which church I attended, and when I told him it was an Episopalian church, he made his pronouncement: “Ooooooh, that’s too liberal.” He then spent the rest of the semester spewing his anger, paranoia and hate in every direction: “Buddhists are going to hell.” “I hate those Chinese guys.” “Hindus and Muslims are going to hell.” “I’m ready to fight for my God.” “The Bible says women who cut their hair are going to hell.” That last one he gave me after I told him about two of my girlfriends who did the St. Baldrick’s event, shaving their heads to show their support for their mother who was going through chemotherapy. Such a sweet, sensitive soul, right? I am a professional; I am a Christian. I turned the other cheek and said almost nothing.

Then there was the Christian missionary who cyber-stalked me for a couple weeks, sending me progressively angry e-mails via Facebook because I did not agree with his stance on the healthcare reform bill. “You show me where in the Bible it says I have to pay my taxes to pay other people’s doctor bills.” I guess he had a point. Jesus never mentioned doctor bills in the New Testament. I am pretty sure he did say, “Pay your taxes” (Matthew 22:21) and also “You can’t take it with you” (Matthew 19:23-24). For a missionary to be that angry about his taxes and about helping others really shook me up a bit.

Another regular challenge to my faith comes from a friend of my mother. This woman, whom I will call Louise, is, well, insane. I’m not sure how else to say it. But she is active in her church which is pretty good cover for her instability. In fact, her church probably appreciates it because she’s loaded, having inherited millions from her late husband. Louise can talk at you for an hour without taking a breath. One day when I was visiting my parents, Louise called, and I answered the phone. I said, “Hello,” and then spent the next ten minutes listening to all her theories: Hillary Clinton is a lesbian, Barack Obama was a secret Muslim terrorist, and all the media outlets except Fox are run by Muslims. My mom says I’m hypercritical of Louise because of her right-wing politics, but I’ve assured my mom that if any of my liberal friends ever tells me that Sarah Palin is actually a member of the KKK or Mitt Romney wants to turn all of America into a Mormon theocracy, I’ll tell them they’re insane too.

So today I got a flyer in my mailbox from the local Assembly of God congregation. It invited me to a four-part series called “The Future of America.” The lectures were titled “United We Stand, Divided We Fall: America’s March Toward Socialism,” “The Death of the Dollar: Will the American Economy Recover?” “Homosexuality: Exposing the Truth Behind the Facades,” And “National Security & Islam in the U.S.: Do You Know Your Neighbor?” My first response was laughter, but then I got nervous, and then angry myself. The inflammatory language on this little flyer - “socialism,” “death,” “exposing,” “security”- and the paranoid rhetoric - “Do you know your neighbor?” - made me wonder exactly what the purpose of a Christian church is. This thing was addressed to “Our Neighbor.” They don’t know me. I might be an agnostic, a lost soul or a Christian who has lost her way. What am I going to make of these titles? I have Muslim neighbors; they probably got this unsolicited trash too. Above the title of the lecture on Islam is a picture of fighter planes. Well, I’m sure that makes my Muslim neighbors comfortable. Not to mention the fury that homosexuality title evoked in me, a lifelong Christian who happens to have many dear gay friends who are not scary or dangerous or hiding anything which more than I can say for the BTK killer who was straight, a church member and Scout leader. How’s that for a facade?

Anyway, it’s a worrisome time for Christians, especially those of us who can’t embrace the almighty dollar, don’t despise all politicians or love toting guns and shooting at people who look different from us. I cling to a few of my Christian heroes: my friend Erik, a local pastor, who organizes new churches in inner-city communities. Frank Schaeffer, son of the theologian and missionary Francis Schaeffer. Fr. Jim Martin, who is actually the unofficial chaplain of “The Colbert Report.” And Reverend C. Welton Gaddy, a Baptist minister who heads up the Interfaith Alliance. The good Christians are out there. Sometimes they’re just harder to find because of all the idiots making so much noise. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

I have to admit it: the Tea Party knows how to get attention.

It certainly has mine. They scare me to death!

I’ve been listening to their rhetoric since long before they “organized,” and it has always creeped me out. See, I’m surrounded by right-wing conservatives. I live in Indiana. My parents are Republicans, and many of their friends are even more right-leaning than they are. They are all concerned that I no longer share their views. They are certain I’ve been brain-washed, although by whom, they aren’t sure. Probably all those academic elitists I work with at the university, even though I actually started moving away from the GOP when I was working for a very conservative financial services company. Anyway, to counteract the scary liberal influences that have drawn me from the path of righteousness, they send me e-mails, talk down to me as directed by Ann Coulter and shake their heads at my responses.

I’ve shared a few of these e-mails on this blog before, but I don’t think I’ve ever documented the ridiculous phone “conversation” I had with a friend of my mother. I was at my parents’ house, and the phone rang. I picked it up and said hello. When my mom’s friend realized it was me, she proceeded to spend the next several minutes explaining to me that Hillary Clinton was a lesbian, Barack Obama was a secret Muslim terrorist, and all the media outlets except Fox are run by Muslims. Oh, and Obama is the anti-Christ. I called my mother to the phone.

So now, my mom’s crazy friend and thousands of other older, white, middle-class folks like her have put together these “tea parties.” Just the name annoys me. I have lovely little tea parties with my 4-year-old where we dress up and use my good wedding china and eat tiny sandwiches and drink tea. It’s very civilized and sweet. Nothing about today’s tea parties is civilized or sweet. I know that they are trying to make some vague connection to the Boston Tea Party of 1773, but their logic is not working for me.

The 1773 Boston Tea Party was a demonstration against an imperial power. The colonists were unhappy that the king, a monarch who was not elected by anyone, was taxing them from across an ocean without their having any representation in the British Parliament. Their rallying cry was “No Taxation Without Representation!” Well, aside from the fact that today’s Tea Partiers do not live in a colony ruled by a remote monarchy, there is also the problem that the taxes to which they are opposed were passed by duly elected representatives. This is taxation WITH representation. (Although, to be honest, I haven’t actually seen any of these taxes yet.)
But they don’t like it. They say THEY didn’t vote for the people passing these laws, so they haven’t been represented. Newsflash, Tea Party folk: just because it’s a representative democracy, doesn’t mean your side always wins. Thank goodness.

So they gather in public squares and parks and scream inflammatory rhetoric about God and guns and gangsters (”Tea Party Rally Upbraids ‘Gangster’ Government,” Associated Press, 4/15/10). “I’m clinging to my guns, my religion and my ammunition,” exclaims one Republican candidate at a recent protest. Really? God and guns? I’m sorry, but I must’ve missed that part of the New Testament where Jesus advocated violent overthrow of the Roman occupiers. Or where he told his followers NOT to pay taxes. What I remember is: “Render unto Caesar the things which are Caesar’s.” Which sounds a lot to me like: “Pay your taxes and quit complaining. You can’t take it with you to Heaven anyway!”

Tea Partiers insist they aren’t violent or extreme; they’re just good Christian Americans upholding their rights. Patrolling the perimeters of tea party rallies in camouflage, carrying AK-47s to defend the protest against “the left-wing nut jobs out there” (”Tea Party Rally Upbraids ‘Gangster’ Government,” Associated Press, 4/15/10). I’m sorry, who are the gangsters again?

These people frighten me because they are inordinately, illogically angry. And they have guns. Big guns that they like to wave in people’s faces. Not a good combination.

It doesn’t make sense that they are this angry NOW. If they really are upset about the federal debt, why didn’t they love Clinton? Why didn’t they demonstrate against George W. Bush who took Clinton’s $236 billion surplus and turned it into a trillion-dollar deficit by playing fast and loose with the accounting for the Iraq War.

If they’re angry about gun rights, why take it out on Obama who has not proposed a single gun control bill?

If they’re angry about their Constitutional rights, why didn’t have a hissy fit over Bush’s warrantless wiretapping or suspension of habeas corpus?

What really changed to make them so angry? Well, I’m just judging from my own experience with these folks, and that is a dangerous thing to do. Extrapolating from your own narrow experience can often lead to logical fallacies. Stupid stuff like: “It’s snowing here in Cincinnati in March, so global warming is a hoax.” So reader, beware, the following is just my opinion, but here are the changes I see.
First, the recession. I could blame it on George W. Bush or the Republican Congress, but it’s more complicated than that, and its causes don’t really matter here. It happened, and the recession changed a lot of things. It made people unhappy and anxious.

Second, the Democratic Congress. Most of the Tea Partiers are current or former GOP voters. They don’t trust Democrats in Congress, even if they haven’t done much with their power. A Democratic Congress makes these people upset.

Third, a Democratic president. Most of the Tea Partiers did not vote for Barack Obama. These people lost the election. They did not share our joy when he walked into Millennium Park on election night. Losing makes most people angry.

Finally, a black president. There’s just no getting around it. The first African-American president is a big change for our nation, and a lot of people are furious about it. Now you can make some pie-in-the-sky argument about how his race has nothing to do with the anger of the Tea Partiers, but before you do, take a look at Stormfront.org. If you’re not familiar with this group, consider yourself lucky. They are a white supremacist group that happens to own the domain rights to martinlutherking.org, a website I have used for years when teaching my students about information literacy and the dangers of believing everything you read on the Internet. Obviously, Stormfront hates President Obama. But they have of other things in common with the Tea Party - love of guns, distrust of the government in general, hatred of taxes.

Now my conservative and libertarian friends hate it when this race issue comes up, but the fact remains: I have yet to see a black person at a Tea Party rally. Show me three. Not just one token, but three separate people of color at a Tea Party function. Then maybe I’ll be less anxious about this situation.

According to one Tea Party activist, “”We don’t want to be misrepresented, whether it’s by someone who is not part of the group and has their own agenda, or whether it’s by some fringe extremist who may actually be a racist” (”Tea Party Leaders Anxious About Extremists,” Associated Press, 4/15/10). So the Tea Partiers are anxious? Good. I have a bit of advice for them: “Associate yourself with men of good quality if you esteem your own reputation” - George Washington.

If your message appeals to racists and militias and crazy fringe groups, maybe the problem is the message itself. Stop using this frightening rhetoric. Stop waving your guns around. Stop threatening our duly elected officials and throwing rocks through their windows like a bunch of Nazi brownshirts during Kristellnacht (”Former militiaman unapologetic for calls to vandalize offices over healthcare,” Washington Post, 3/25/10). Engage in the democratic process established by the founding fathers you claim to revere. Follow their example. Go ahead. But not just by hanging tea bags to your hats and calling yourselves “modern Sons of Liberty.” Be really brave and engage in the dialogue. Civilly. And preferably, without an AK-47.

I’ve had so many ideas for blog entries lately, they’ve kind of created a logjam in my brain. So rather than try to work all these ideas out into separate pieces, I’m just gonna toss them, raw, onto a page. Once I get the backup cleared out, maybe I’ll be able to see what’s really worthy of more consideration?

1. Daylight Savings Time sucks. The only people who like it seem to be golfers and people from New England. All it does for me is give me an extra hour in the evenings to fight with my kids and try to get them to bed.

2. The NCAA basketball tourney is almost here! Even though my beloved Indiana Hoosiers will not be playing, I will have my Butler Bulldogs who are playing great ball right now. I will also follow Purdue, just because they are an Indiana school and many of friends attended there. I have to admit, though, the spanking the Boilermakers endured yesterday at the hands of Minnesota was kind of fun to watch. Purdue had just 4 points 15 minutes into the game. Did my IU Hoosier heart good. hee hee hee

3. Rush Limbaugh says he is moving to Costa Rica if the health care reform bill goes through. SWEET! Not only will we get some health care reform, but we’ll get rid of that windbag too?! I teared up at the very thought. Rather ironic, though, that he’d choose to escape to Costa Rica, which has had socialized medicine for over half a century and still manages to have some of the finest health care in the world, as well as a longer life expectancy than the U.S.. I guess Rush doesn’t mind universal health care for himself, just for his fellow Americans.

4. Home schooling seems to becoming an epidemic. When I was a kid, I did not know a single home-schooled child. Now I know 20. It worries me for a several reasons. One, I have a Master’s in English, and I still do not feel qualified to teach my children all subjects. Two, I teach just one class of 16 students, and it takes a huge amount of time to prepare. How are home-schooling parents giving the same quality of education to their kids with their limited time? Three, I have had home-schooled kids in my college classes; they are smart, but they are also backward, shy, and overwhelmed. Four, many of the home-schooling parents seem to think that public schools are liberal indoctrination centers. Having grown up surrounded by my high school teacher mom and ALL her public school teacher friends, I can assure you that public school teachers are, in general, some of the most politically conservative folks I know. And did you read about the good ol’ Texas Board of Education’s textbook standards that will help dictate curriculum for the entire nation? Fear not, right-wing conservatives; your values are safely in the hands of Texas. Another thing that kind of cracks me up about the home-schooling phenomenon is that I hear so many of these parents saying, “Well, little Timmy really needs more one-on-one attention.” Most of the time, I think little Timmy needs less! A lot less! Maybe little Timmy is an immature brat because he thinks he is the center of the universe. Put him in a classroom with 25 of the other 6.4 billion human beings and let him get a sense of his real place in the universe. Finally, home-schooling tends to perpetuate the worrisome trend of people who refuse to allow their beliefs to be challenged. People who watch only Fox News because it tells them what they want to hear also tend to home school their kids so they can teach them only what they want them to be taught. This kind of thought vacuum (and it goes both ways: liberals do it too) is not conducive to democratic discourse.

5. New York’s Mayor Bloomberg is an idiot. All the problems in New York City and he picks a  battle with salt? Really? Does this mean you won’t be able to get pickles or corned beef in NYC anymore? Sometimes, I can really appreciate the Libertarians’ perspective.

6. American Terrorists seem to be popping up like mushrooms all over the world. Two of them who have made the biggest headlines are women - marginalized, abused, isolated women. Hell hath no fury? Or is it something bigger than just their gender? So often these days, we see some loner (male or female) just walk into or fly their plane into some institution they believe has been victimizing them and wreak havoc. I think part of it goes back to that self-perpetuating “thought vacuum” that is part of my home-schooling concern. It also seems to be symptomatic of our American society, where technology may bring us together, but it also paints us into corners. Just this week, I was standing at a busy corner on campus, surrounded by students. Three were talking on their cell phones, two were texting, and another was listening to his MP3 player. No one made eye contact with the people standing inches from them. No one said “thank you” to the kid who pressed the crosswalk button; he wouldn’t have heard anyway because he was wearing headphones. What happens to the people who have cell phones but no one to text? What happens to the folks with computers but no real friends? Maybe they turn into domestic or foreign terrorists?

7. Hugo Chavez is the Fidel Castro of my generation - a charismatic South American nutjob who I would really like to see just go away. Or at least shut up.

8. Poor Corey Haim. Dead at 38. A has-been at 20. Maybe that’s why the jokes about him started about 5 minutes after the news of his death hit the web. That should be everyone’s nightmare: to spend half your life chasing the brief success of your childhood and to be mocked before your corpse is even cold.

9. The Oscars were really lame this year. Don’t get me wrong: seeing a woman finally win the Best Director award was awesome, but the rest of the show was long and lame. I guess it didn’t help that I’d seen only 4 of the nominated films: Julie/Julia, Harry Potter, Up, and The Princess and the Frog. Movies are just not worth the money and aggravation to me anymore. Why pay $30 to sit in a theater with people who talk through the whole film? I guess I’m getting old and crotchety, huh?

Well, that’s it. My brain feels unclogged which is a relief. Looking back over this, I guess I can’t avoid the home-schooling thing. It’s probably going to cost me a few friends/acqaintances, though. Maybe I’ll get lucky and they won’t read it. I think I’ll also have to explore the whole self-perpetuation “thought vacuum” thing more broadly too: how the vast variety of cable and internet media lets us pick and choose our facts, and how technology isolates us from each other and the challenges that “others” present to our worldviews. *sigh* Those are pretty hefty topics. I think I’ll tackle them after March Madness ends. And I’ll have all that extra daylight to do it in. Stupid DST.*mutter* *mutter*