$100 fee for Birth Certificate

h/t mithras

I suppose the purchase of these birth certificates should close any budget gaps.........

Kids, Prisons, Bad for us

Kids do stupid stuff, loiter, cut school, get into fights in school. In most instances, a call to a parent, an in-school suspension, COUNSELING are usually workable solutions.

Too often in urban settings, kids are shuffled off to the criminal justice system FIRST. Worse, the schools they enter on a daily basis are filled with armed guards.

How about putting that money into cleaning up the schools, providing books and guidance counselors? These kids are conditioned to being in prison. Is this anyway to learn?

Most suburbanites take these things for granted, it is a luxury in urban and RURAL schools.

Where is the money flowing in these communities? The criminal justice system.

Mental illness has a terrible stigma attached to it. If someone  is depressed or has experience some type of abuse, they are told to get over it. The collateral damage is horrendous and it spills over to multiple generations...It surfaces in acting out. Where? School.

Are the parents covering up their pain with drugs, alcohol or sexual addictions?  The kids become codependent and deal with their pain through their own drama. A vicious cycle.

Who hasn't lost a friend to suicide? Or witness a friend or family member's inability to keep a job because of untreated ADHD? They can't get treatment because they have no access to care.

Let's start with accepting mental illness as a societal problem because it is....

Sugar Daddy or Oppressor: Clinton Chronicles

While filming a commercial for a local candidate, HRC became the subject of conversation.

A retired lawyer was surprised that I wasn't a HRC fan. Befuddled he asked "Don't you think she has suffered the glass ceiling issues facing most women?" I couldn't contain my laughter. I work with women on a daily bases who did not rely on her husband name or position to foster their career accomplishments.

If anything her late calls of sexism will set those who follow back. She is not one of us. 

Camille Paglia's article speaks to those of us who have the scars from crashing the glass ceiling.

Animal Athletes, Eight Belles, Barbaro

Maybe the time has come to rethink horse racing. If the losing Superbowl team died on the field, would this be accepted? (Only in the case of the Cowboys)

Humans can articulate their wishes, desires, pain, and joy. Another Kentucky Derby, another tragedy. 

I have more question, than answers. I'm not a member of PETA, but there is something fundamentally wrong when a horse is ridden to death.

Clyde: The tow truck driver

It's been a little over a week since the untimely death of my car. I paid off my 2002 Alero five months ago. My plan, which is usually different than the universal plan, was to forgo car payments for a year. Ugh.

it was a beautiful sunny afternoon, I had just wrapped up an Executive Committee Board meeting in Harrisburg. I left the parking garage when my car simply stopped. After a few unsuccessful attempts to restart my car, two handsome angels kindly pushed me out of harm's way.

Within 30 minutes of my call to AAA, "Clyde" strolled into my life. After exchanging introductions, judging by his reaction, I was not what he expected. The combination of braids, briefcase and business suit threw him.

As he was loading the car, I e-mailed a couple of friends to give them a status, with clear instructions that if I am never heard from again, to tell my baby " I love her." As of late, my travels have been filled with adventures. I was just being a smartass. My attempt at humor.

He stood about 5'5", mid-forties, a baseball cap hid his balding hair, packing a pooch, sportin' Confederate Flags tattoos, anddusty clothes. His voice confirmed years of smoking unfiltered cigarettes.

After settling in the AC challenged cab, we worked through some ground rules for our two hour trip:

Radio? Anything but rap.
Smoking? Window must be down
One stop? Absolutely, over 40 bladder and I needed food. Lunch consisted of two oatmeal cookies.

Our negotiations were interrupted by a twangy voice over the CD radio. "Where are you, at?"

After some banter with one of his colleagues that quickly descended to a level that made me bristle, Clyde cut it short by informing him of the presence of a customer. "Thanks for the warning, asshole" scolded the voice over the radio followed by a click.

"Sorry ma'am" offered the red-faced Clyde. I smiled, shook my head and accepted the apology.

As we cruised East on the turnpike, I learned a lot about Clyde. He grew up in a tiny town in Adams County PA. Graduating HS was a big achievement. He assured me that he meant no harm with the Confederate flags. "it's your artwork," I replied.

He became a tow truck driver after stealing cash from the register. He worked the counter at a local truck stop. A job arranged for him by his father who less than thrilled at how his employment ended. He avoided a jail term by paying a 330 dollar fine.

He likes the freedom of being on the road. He is struggling with his sobriety. He has given up the drugs but beer remains a challenge. He learned to smoke and drink from his family. He has had a hard 36 years.

He became choked up when he discussed the loss of his stepmother. She died at age 48 from a heart attack, triggered by obesity, smoking and alcohol.

He has no relationship with his blood parents or his sister. Violence was how his family settled disputes. "Pretty fucked up, huh"....he said, not expecting an answer.

He only communicates with his brother from one of his fathers' relationship. They see each other occasionally. His two year marriage ended ugly because of her continued drug use and infidelity.

Clyde was surprised that I nice. Why on earth, wouldn't I be? I challenged somewhat perplexed. He was helping me. Clyde shared with me numerous stories of the treatment he has received from customers.

The funniest one involved the insurance agency and BMW owner. This gentleman began the scenario by screaming at the dispatcher. You can guess what happened to his call. Yep, bottom of the pile. By the time, Clyde showed up two hours after the first call, this guy was spittin' fire.

First he complained about the dispatcher, then he moved onto how fast Clyde was driving. After this continued for 45 minutes, Clyde told him if he didn't knock it off, he would put him out. The customer piped down for about five miles then started complaining again. So, Clyde pulled over and told him to get out. When the customer realized Clyde was serious, he was shocked. He told Clyde that no one ever stood their ground with him. He sheepishly apologized.

The customer filled up the truck, gave Clyde the 160 receipt plus a 50 dollar tip. What a great story.

He spoke of moving to Cleveland to start over. "Who or what's in Cleveland?" I queried." Just a new start. Problems seem to just show up where I live, he said with dismay.

Just as we arrived at the Bowmansville's rest stop, my blackberry rang. It was my friend checking on my whereabouts and ETA.
He joked about a Confederate flag.....I confirmed its presence. You OK? with a serious tone. Yeah, I'm fine, I replied.

We munched on turkey sandwiches as our journey resumed. Clyde offered to drop me home so my friend did not have shuffle his schedule. I thanked him, but my friend has always been my "2 o'clock in the morning call".

I sensed a undercurrent of sadness as his hurt, struggles, disrespect surfaced in our conversation. Each day is a struggle.

I wasn't sure what to expect. He expected a pain in the ass. We both entered our little adventure with misconceptions but departed with a different sensibility.

I truly wish Clyde peace and joy.

Vick's NFL career is over

Sex and the Hypocrites

Great piece by Suburban Guerrilla:

Don’t ya think? Oh, those wacky Republicans!

In June, Tim Droogsma, a former press secretary to a US senator and a Minnesota governor, told the Star Tribune after reading its sex relationships column: “I don’t think I’m too prudish — which, I realize, is what prudes always say — but do we really want this sentence: ‘She hopped on my lap, facing forward. I pulled up her skirt in the back, slid her panties out of the way, and unzipped’?” Droogsma was arrested this week in a midafternoon prostitution sting.

Check out the rest.....

Addicted to More

When my daughter reaches into the scrapbook of her mind, the trips to park, showing up at school events, just hanging out are the ones that bubble to the surface.

She is child of two divorced parents who made/make a decent buck. She has had some awesome vacations. Why? Well if he is taking her to the Caymans, I must counter that with a trip to Aruba.

It was my mother, who pointed out what I was doing. Mind you, she was a companion on these competitive vacations. But she was right. My daughter lumps the trip to the park in the same category as an exotic trip.

In either place, she wanted spend time with her parents. So how about less time at work chasing "more" and more time with the little people.

How dare we get annoyed with their lack of appreciation.....

Children just want our time.

Lack of Hope=Urban Genocide

n Camden, N.J., on a Sunday morning in June, a 24-year-old nurse’s aide was killed in a burst of gunfire as she stood talking with a friend on a street corner. She was one of four young people killed in a four-day eruption of violence in Camden.

A teenager who lives in the city tried to explain to me what it was like to have a number of friends or relatives murdered: “You don’t exactly get used to it,” he said, “but you expect it.”

"Philadelphia, across the Delaware River from Camden, is struggling with an even worse problem. As if signaling the start of an accelerated killing season, six people were murdered on the first day of summer. Philly’s homicide rate is on pace to break last year’s tally of 406.

As Senator Barack Obama said during a visit to a Chicago church last month, “From South-Central L.A., to Newark, New Jersey, there’s an epidemic of violence that is sickening the soul of this nation.”

More attention to this crisis of violence is needed, and more police resources, and more jobs, and better schools, and improved prison re-entry programs, and tighter gun controls. But more than anything else, a cultural change is needed.

The communities hardest hit are those in which too many parents have failed their children. The most effective anti-crime effort begins at home with parents (fathers, are you listening?) who raise their kids to know better than to point a gun at another human being and blow that person away for no good reason.

That’s the essential component. Without it, all other crime-fighting efforts are doomed, and thousands upon thousands of poor youngsters will continue to be denied their most basic civil right — the right to grow safely to adulthood."

I AGREE WITH MR. HERBERT!

Fifteen years ago I met a smart, spirited and sort of cute attorney. We were thirty at the time. Through happentance our paths crossed. He had just left the DA's office and was working in a tiny minority firm. Another friend was looking to diversify his Irish, Jewish firm.

The transition to this all white firm was not easy for this gentlemen with the Muslim name. Part of the problem was his world view was different. As a practice he carried a gun. He didn't think twice about it. He wore it as easy as they all wore their Brooks Brothers suits. This was very unnerving for a corporate law firm.

Eventually, the experiment ended and he started his own successful criminal defense firm. On the eve of his firm's anniversary party, we had a reflective conversation. I inquired what do you think happened at the other firm?

He gave me a big smile and said, I really did not expect to make 30 so I never really planned for life once I got there.

Wow.

I grew up in a community with OLD people. Many of my most powerful life's lessons came from my GREAT Grandparents. They lived across the street from us. They worked everyday, went to church and travelled with us to all of our events. The loved baseball. Both my brothers played and they couldn't wait for the games.

They never quite understood the field hockey I played but they were always there.

It was expected that we went to college. My grandparents saw in us opportunities they could only dream of.

When I entertained "not walking" to pick up my college diploma, my Mom dimed me out to my Grandmother. After work that day, before I got out of my car, my Grandmother summoned me. My mother stood in the doorway smirking.

My grandparents informed me how important the walking across the stage was to them. I was the first person in the family to get a college diploma and it was going to be done right.

It was a very brief directive.

The day of graduation was record cold but we froze our backsides off taking pictures in front of the school signs. My father took pictures until my grandfather told my grandmother it was time to go home. He didn't say much, but when he did, Grandmom relented.

I am so glad I had family to point out positive rituals and accomplishments. They cared enough to fuss at me. The respect was instilled early and often enough that I listened. We expected to work and live in white America. We were taught survival skills with the expectation to get an education, a good job, get married have babies, get a pension, retire, THEN die. In that order....

What we are dealing with is a generation of kids who do not expect to make their next birthday. Unless this generation is taught there is the possiblity of life past 15, the issue will solve itself. They will all be dead or shuttled into the dysfunctional criminal justice system.

The hope must begin at home.