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Don We Now Our Invisibility Cloaks

The sacred imagination is an ancient thing. An archaeologist in Botswana recently uncovered evidence that seventy thousand years ago, the Sanpeople worshipped a snake god. The archaeologist, Professor Sheila Coulson from the University of Oslo, found a stone, six meters long by two meters tall, in the shape of a python in a cave in the Tsodilo Hills. Buried in a pit beneath the snake’s mouth were more than 13,000 artifacts, mostly red spearheads that had been trekked to the site from hundreds of miles away and burned in some kind of ritual.

On these ritual occasions, did Mr. and Mrs. Snakeworshipper expect their daughter Patience and her girlfriend Sarah to pretend that they only shared a hut back in Pythonburg to save on wattle and daub? Probably not. Homophobia is a comparatively recent phenomenon. We know that in the animal kingdom, mammals, birds, fish and reptiles often engage in same-sex relations. Ten percent of rams have no interest in mating with ewes. They prefer to consort with their fellow rams. Male penguin couples have raised borrowed eggs; same-sex swan couples have mated for life. So much for the homosexuality is against nature and the barnyard argument. Birds do it. Bees do it. Sheep, dolphins, and giraffes do it. Why are human beings expected to pretend that we don’t? [more]

OLD LEFTISTS THE NEW PALEOCONS?

Heaven knows that folks in the go-go West love their cups of morning java. We are as addicted to caffeine as we are adrenaline-lusted for feats of athletic hedonism.

But is your community a "Latte Town"? Nine years ago, political commentator David Brooks penned a wonderfully sneering piece for The Weekly Standard in which he created a new social category for certain lifestyle communities.

Like De Tocqueville, Brooks has a special fetish for traveling through the hinters of America identifying trends based upon patterns of conspicuous consumption that he believes translate into expressions of conservative or Liberal ideals. I'll get to the punch line later but meantime, read on: [more]

My Self-Indulgent Birthday Blog

I had a birthday last week, a big birthday, and I'm afraid I have some disappointing news for all of you 39-year olds. Are you ready? Are you sure? Okay, here it is -- forty is not the new thirty. I'm sorry, but forty is just forty, same as it ever was. I know. We've taken this milestone birthday, tarted it up, given it a shot of Botox and a public relations makeover, but the truth is as plain as the gray hairs on our heads. Forty is the grand entrance to middle age. There is an exit, but if you're the optimistic sort, you'll recognize that there's really no need to take it. Being forty is not that bad. In fact, so far, it's been pretty good. [more]

Going real at Christmas may help the environment

Faking it may carry you through some situations, but when it comes to Christmas tree selection, err on the real side.

Fake trees may seem more convenient. They don’t shed their needles, you spend less time fighting over which tree to pick, they last for years and most conveniently, they fold up in a matter of minutes.

But, the conditions under which they’re made and the materials themselves should give you pause, says the National Christmas Tree Association. About 85 percent of fake trees are imported from abroad, they say, from factories where workers sit for hours melting chips into moldable plastics.

Last week, my roommate Meg and I decided to get our own real Christmas tree, to inspire holiday cheer in those locals who think only of skiing and not of eggnog, cranberries and sugarplum fairies... [more]

FROM MADISON AVENUE TO THE MADISON RIVER

Mike Gold is a big fish who once swam in the glittering pond of global advertising. As a Londoner and former executive with Saatchi & Saatchi, he helped define the terms of modern marketing that defies international borders and reaches living rooms in the remotest corners of the planet. But Gold also admits that he paid a high price for his success by constantly being away from his family while he was cultivating and implementing advertising deals. Today, prefering a slower paced life west of Bozeman, he is teaching students at Montana State University's College of Business about the connections between product and consumer and the things that matter in life. What inspired this Englishman to make his own life change? Answer: "A City Slickers Moment." Not long ago, writer Carol Schmidt of the MSU News Service penned this story after attending one of Gold's classes.
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Weasel Words

It would seem that the Bush Administration has redefined hunger as "low food security." The words have a real and technical use. Extension agents use "low food security" to describe people who don't know if they're going to be able to afford both food and rent. Low food security can lead to hunger, but it's not the same as hunger. Conflating the two is a nasty political trick. If you'll forgive the pun, it's a way of making starvation seem palatable. The news that 35 million Americans are going hungry sounds so much better when we take terms like low food security and turn them into weasel words. [more]

A military mom's view of the recent past

Yesterday, my beloved firstborn left for the Middle East.

He will not see combat and will be relatively safe, but still – the Middle East – for a year.

First there is the whole year thing – it seems unimaginable right now – and then there is the location thing, and then there is the whole year thing. A year without rubbing his head and catching that clean scent that hasn’t changed since the day he was born. Twelve months without his company for dogwalks by the river. Four seasons without his familiar calls to chat about the latest political outrage, his lectures about my car-maintenance habits, and the way he cracks up. He doesn’t crack up often, but when he does – mercy but it’s a beautiful thing.

Ten days ago I was more upset than I am now, even though Andrew is gone. Bush was still proclaiming his support for Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld, it was uncertain whether the Democrats could take the House, and the Senate was but a crazy dream.

Though tempered by Idaho’s disturbing election, my relief at the national results of November 7 has given me hope for relief for our military.

As of yesterday, official reports say 2,847 of them have been killed; 21,077 have been wounded.

Our sons and daughters. [more]

Hell Opens A Hockey Rink

Before right-wing conservative bloggers like Moscow's Dale Courtney pop their collective champagne corks, perhaps they should have a look at the local Latah County Elections page. HJR2 was defeated soundly here. Bill Sali lost big, and Jerry Brady defeated Butch Otter. We returned Democrat Shirley Ringo to the Idaho Statehouse by an overwhelming margin, and we voted for experienced teacher and school administrator Jana Jones over businessman Tom Luna, the man with the online bachelor’s degree. The Latah County Commissioners now comprise two Democrats and one Republican, and that Republican held on to his seat by a mere 180 votes. Yes, Idaho is red, but Latah County is BLUE. I still feel comfortable and safe here. I still feel happy here. And I woke up this morning singing. My song?

The House is blue, the Senate is blue, and so, Bill Sali, what can you do? [more]

Doing Justice to my Adopted Home

The title of my first novel is Idaho Code: Where Family Therapy Comes With a Shovel and an Alibi. I began my talk in Amsterdam by asking if anyone in the audience had ever been to Idaho. No hands were raised. I then asked if anyone knew where Idaho was. A few hands -- there were a couple of transplanted New Yorkers in the crowd. I decided that before I read from my book and its sequel, From Hell to Breakfast, I'd try to give a brief description of my adopted home state. I said that it took about twelve hours to drive from the Canadian border in the north to Idaho Falls in the south, and that was if you didn't mind getting a speeding ticket. I pointed out that our state population only recently topped the one million mark. I said that Idaho was a libertarian place; that although it was technically Republican Red, it was wild and open and free. Finally, I told them about a fellow I knew whose grandmother had been eaten by a grizzly bear. That's when they began laughing. They laughed harder when I explained that when I'd expressed my condolences, the man had said, "No, it's okay. That's the way she'd have wanted to go." And that, I believe, captures the true spirit of this state. What are we like? This is what we're like. We're odd and strange and funny and tough. We are real live cowboys. [more]

Commentary: Am I Blue?

I have been foolishly hopeful in past elections. When I moved to this state in 1993, we weren’t blue, but we were a nice shade of purple. The great Democrat Cecil Andrus had served for a combined fourteen years as Idaho’s governor, and another Democrat, Larry LaRocco, held the First District Congressional seat. What happened? It’s hard to say. Idaho grew redder and redder and, finally, it tipped entirely out of balance and fell off the edge of the earth. This became the land that time forgot. Cars actually sported bumper stickers that said, “Idaho Is What America Was.” Never mind will be. We didn’t give a damn about the future. We were too busy trying to recreate some mythical past, one in which education, natural resources, civil rights, health care, social welfare and constitutional protections didn’t matter, not so long as taxes could be cut and spending pared to the bone. [more]

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