“Mother’s Day Every Day: White Ribbon Alliance Post Roundup.”
The Unreliable Narrator requested new “off-road” shoes. This is how you know you’re a sunny, warm-weather California kid: your kicks are Crocs, Crocs, and more Crocs. Or sandals. None of these are closed shoes or boots. And socks? What are those?
But winter in SoCal necessitates closed shoes or occasional rain boots with socks. And the UN likes a modified hiking boot with knobby-treaded soles–hence the “off-road” designation. Given that he actually likes to hike, the name isn’t so inaccurate.
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I went to phone bank Sunday afternoon for the Obama campaign. The people in the corner of IN I called were mostly suspicious, unfriendly, election fatigued, and/or not Obama supporters. It was a huge bummer. Hope other parts of IN are more receptive.
I then called some people in FL, and the experience was MUCH better. Many of the people stopped eating dinner to talk with me and several wrote down the Obama voter hotline number in case of “funny” stuff happening at the polls. 65 year old man who’ll take his mother, YOU ROCK for voting Obama.
I also sent out a call to N. St Louis people for Obama GOTV efforts–a friend said that volunteer efforts in that office are way below what they need to help people get in line and stay there to vote. IF YOU LIVE NEAR ST. LOUIS AND CAN HELP ON ELECTION DAY, PLEASE GO HERE TO HELP. LEAVE ME A COMMENT AND I’LL GET YOU INFORMATION ON WHERE TO GO AND WHO TO CONTACT.
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My parents are home from Shanghai, where they have a condo and live for 3-4 months of the year. (It sounds very exotic and fabulous and chic, and it is insofar as your quiet Chinese naturalized American retirees like to soak up the excitement from big city living in the country of their birth. And because the exchange rate is favorable, they actually save money when they live over there.)
As they just came home on October 26, this was the first chance they had to come and see our new house. I think they liked the guest bedroom suite on the first floor where they can stay overnight.
Where I live now is on the lip of the San Gabriel Valley. The San Gabriel Valley has some of the best Chinese food outside China. No. Lie.
There are two communities with outstanding schools K-12 here: community A is largely white and Asian in racial/cultural composition. Community B is slightly more diverse, with a racial/cultural makeup of mostly white, Asian and Latino.
One of the reasons we wanted to move is to expose the Unreliable Narrator to more Chinese language study, and a geographic and gastronomic community of Chinese/Taiwanese and other Asian Americans. Our old neighborhood didn’t really have this feature. And we’re not really connected to Chinatown, which is located in downtown Los Angeles. But Community A is full of wealthy, ladies who lunch and mah-jong playing tai-tais, many of whom are recently immigrated. I just don’t have much in common with them either. What on earth would we talk about? Could I invite them to an Obama fundraiser, or are they too busy worrying about the latest Taiwanese election? (Not that there’s anything wrong with that, necessarily. It’s just a matter of emphasis.) Hmmm. Years from now, my kid and theirs would be locked in deadly competition for entrance into Harvard. I just don’t know if I have what it takes to turn my kid into a grade-grubbing automaton with unexpected thug tendencies, a la Better Luck Tomorrow.
Also, I’m of the opinion that white + another nonwhite group does not equal diverse. There have to be at least 3 different groups going on for it to even start making sense. Community B has this, although nothing will ever equal living in Oakland, CA, which has almost the perfect proportions of whites: Asians: Latinos: African Americans. But still. You do the best you can, and having freaking unbelievably good Vietnamese food nearby? Well, that makes up for a world of ills.
I knew Community B was the right place for us when one Saturday afternoon, we stopped at a historic old sody shoppe and had a hot dog, fries, and a chocolate milkshake served by diffident pimply-faced local teens, and across the corner a bunch of anti-war, pro-Obama supporters set up their signs and the other locals driving on through honked with appreciation.
Those are our values, right there. Old fashioned virtues and commie-mommie-ism. Love it, or bite me.
So, I’m wondering if we mothers of sons who were feminists to begin with became more radicalized and anti-war as this Iraq War has dragged on and become a living nightmare. And as a result, tended to support Obama in greater numbers.
And if mothers of daughters who were feminists to begin with tended to focus on more domestic issues and/or may have supported Clinton in greater numbers because her campaign was so historic for women. And as a result, the Iraq War and resulting quagmire was not the dealbreaker it was for others.
Huge sweeping generalization. Totally thrown off by mothers who have sons and daughters. And about a zillion other factors. But still. It’s yet another twist on this Who Feminists Vote For dead horse we love to blog so much. If I were a feminist sociologist or demographer, I might try polling around to see what answers I got.
Turns out these days, adult immigrants from my dad’s hometown in China are all in America, and their babies are in Fuzhou being raised by grandma.
It’s that grand old extended Confucian family that easily accommodates trans-Pacific existence…both boon and bane of my existence. Grandmas and grandpas enable the parents to work and provide for everyone else.
My dad’s family left decades ago, when Mao’s Communnist Party took over post-1949. But my dad still considers the place home in an abstract sense and has a new hometown–Shanghai, where he and my mom live part of the year.
I read this article in the NYT about young voters who lean on their boomer parents to vote for Obama, and I totally identified with them. I should explain: while I’m no college undergrad, I do nudge my parents to … Continue reading
You horked all over your grandfather. In public.
It’s just Animal Day here at P i l l o w b o o k Central. This one comes with a “don’t read while on your lunch hour” advisory. Let’s just say it involves skid marks.