If you’re reading this, I know at least two things about you. First, you can read. Second, you have internet access.
as seen at Target
Another thing I know is that you’re smart. Very smart.
You can think for yourself. You don’t need someone to tell you what the definition of “is” is. You don’t want to be introduced to more spin-doctored phraseology, conspiracy theories, and opinions, all paraded as facts on network, radio, and 24-hour cable news.
Whether liberal or conservative, you know what you believe and what’s important to you. Sadly, you realize your values and experiences are insignificant to the experts in the media.
You may, like the majority of Americans, distrust the media.
Now before you media mavens get your AP Stylebooks in an uproar, let me state I believe there are good, talented, honest journalists out there who do their best to be true to the craft. They respect the intelligence of their readers enough to go to the extra trouble of checking their biases at the door.
“If you asked me two years ago, I would [have] said, ‘No, a journalist should not have an opinion on Twitter,’ ” said Niketa Patel, social media product manager for CNNMoney. But now her thinking has changed. “We are humans, too. We do have opinions. I think as long as you’re not controversial about it, or you’re not overly trying to make a statement, then I think it’s OK…to have somewhat of an opinion,” she said.
For Liz Heron, social media director at The Wall Street Journal, journalists are at their best on social media when they offer analysis and context instead of just the straight story.
as seen at Target
What? Who said we want journalists to offer anything but the straight story? Are we more concerned with the reporter’s need to express his or her personal narrative than with the audience’s need for facts?
That’s not news reporting. That’s opinion-editorial. That’s creative nonfiction. That’s celebrity in the making. That’s personal blogging!
If you’re still reading this (God love you), I know you care about our country and the upcoming election. You’re concerned. You may even be afraid.
You want to be informed, watch the debates, that sort of thing. But politics can get so mean-spirited and ugly. When you try to keep up with the election news, you end up more discouraged.
Take heart. Embrace your power as a media literate citizen.
Watch the presidential debate tomorrow night. But watch in a forum free of the biased reporting and analysis that often passes for journalism these days.
PBS is another good option. Both C-SPAN and PBS offer analysis before and after the debates, but you’re less likely to see superstar journalists talk over the coverage or break in to narrate like we saw on other channels during the conventions.
Watch the debates free of outside opinion, so you have a chance to form the one opinion that matters first—your own.
He changes times and seasons;
He deposes kings and raises up others.
He gives wisdom to the wise
and knowledge to the discerning. Daniel 2:21 NIV
Last week my son had a day off school, so we trekked 25 miles to meet some of his school mates at Walter’s Pumpkin Patch.
pumpkin arrangement
This is the first fall in my son’s life we won’t be pumpkin and apple picking at America’s largest, family-owned, pick-your-own orchard, Eckert’s in Belleville, Illinois. We’re mourning the loss of Pumpkin Jamboree weekends and phenomenal fried chicken. But this year Eckert’s is 458.78 miles away.
Yes, I MapQuested it.
maze exit
Walter’s isn’t the same as Eckert’s, but it’s still a blast. We were there on a weekday, so we had the place to ourselves including paddle boats, underground slides, an in-ground trampoline, corn maze, people-sized hamster wheel, giant seesaw, tree houses, and of course pumpkin picking.
Now my son has never struggled with separation anxiety. From the moment I dropped him off at nursery school, he’s not been one to look back. There are places to go, things to do, people to see. Mom? Mom who?
Walter’s was no different. He jumped head first into the activities, oblivious to my whereabouts. After lunch, he took off with his friends on their next adventure, leaving me in the dust.
I walked over to the country store to to chat up the owner. Turns out she knows the Eckert’s people. We discussed the finer points of Walter’s transformation into a destination farm.
As I strolled out of the store, I saw a small, lonely figure standing a block away from me on the driveway. Was that my child? Was he crying?
“What’s the matter?” I said as I got to him and held him. “Are you okay?”
“I couldn’t find you,” he said. “I thought you left me at the pumpkin patch!”
“Oh, no,” I said, “Mommy will never leave you.”
It was a promise I couldn’t keep, and I knew it the second the words came out.
“Mommy will never leave you at the pumpkin patch,” I said as if that clarification somehow helped.
Life is full of changes and loss. There will come a day when I will leave him—not by choice, never by choice. Death comes at the most inconvenient times.
Or he may leave me first. I pray not by death, but by growing up. His father and I are raising him with the goal that one day he’ll be independent of us. However, I can’t promise I won’t follow him if he moves away. Don’t you want me to be your daughter’s mother-in-law now?
We dried the tears and talked about how we both needed to tell each other where we were going to be, especially in strange, new places.
The school counselor’s words often haunt me, sloshing big buckets of guilt: “Moving is one of the top five most traumatic experiences for a child.”
Oh, Lord, what have we done.
“I miss Eckert’s,” said my son. So do I, baby. So do I.
pumpkins on porch
The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; He will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged. Deuteronomy 31:8 NIV
Brand new from an album due to release in January 2013, please listen to Need You Now by Plumb.
How do you deal with loss? How do you help your children deal with it?
Scrunchie. Fabric covered rubber band. Vintage hair accessory. Friend of the weary and downtrodden, color-treated and conditioned Gen X tresses.
scrunchie fierce
“Do they still make those?” said my stylist when I mentioned tying my hair up in a scrunchie for yoga class.
“I don’t know if they still make them,” I said. “But they’re magical.”
My hair stylist is in her twenties. She doesn’t know the power of the scrunchie.
In my hair history, I’ve owned sponge rollers, velcro rollers, hot rollers, steam rollers, curling irons, crimping irons, banana clips, bobby pins, barrettes, crab claws, and an ocean of ponytail elastics. I have not owned a Flowbee, and I’m resisting the urge to buy a flat iron, though my BFF swears by hers. Her flat iron, that is. Not her Flowbee.
pair of scrunchies
The scrunchie has staying power.
I’ve saved two from the 90s. I keep them safely stashed behind my collection of plastic, hotel shower caps. Secret weapons of my hair care arsenal.
Scrunchie A is a cotton calico gem from 1992. It boasts a saturated red that glows like rubies. Bought it on clearance at the Gap for $3. (I remember all my significant fashion purchases the way I remember song lyrics.)
I wear it to the pool. The cotton dries fast, and the bright bathing suit colors of this past summer breathed new life into the 20-year-old accessory.
Scrunchie B, my favorite, is a silk-covered leopard print. It’s fierce.
My sister gave it to me in 1995. Little did we know animal prints would become the new neutrals. Thank you, Ballard Designs. Ordinary scrunchies may fall by the wayside along the runway of trends. The leopard scrunchie goes to yoga class.
Don’t get me wrong. I still care about my appearance. I want to be presentable, respectable, approachable. You and I, we have to wear clothes in public, so we might as well put some effort into it. And we need to do something with our crowning glory while it clings to our heads.
But I find, as the decades roll by, there are compromises to be made on the personal catwalk of life.
good-bye glamour
Comfortable shoes instead of stilettos, so the plantar fasciitis doesn’t anger the wicked sciatica. Untucked shirts and higher rise jeans, so I can belly laugh with abandon rather than sucking in my tummy or perpetually donning Spanx to squash the muffin top. Sweat pants worn occasionally even though fashion experts rage against them and the flip-flops.
Best regards, Vogue, Glamour, Elle, Stacy and Clinton. I’ll keep my scrunchies and wear them when I must. Because to me, they’re the epitome of style: comfortable, confident, magical, fierce.
Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting;
but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised. Proverbs 31:30 NIV
Since when did it become impossible to discuss politics and religion? Why is it so difficult?
one nation, under God, indivisible
Last week I told you about Finding (Un)Common Ground, the new site I’ve launched with writer Lisen Stromberg. We’re publishing side-by-side opinion posts about controversial, potentially divisive topics. We’re not experts; we’re simply moms who would really like to be able to discuss issues with civility. We believe others would like to be able to do the same.
Lisen’s the West Coast liberal and I’m the Southern/Heartland conservative. As expected, we did not agree in our first round of posts last week concerning the terrorist attacks against our embassies in Libya, Egypt, and Yemen.
This week, however, in our second round of posts, something strange happened.
We agreed. Well, sort of.
We weren’t in perfect sync with each other on the responses from Google and the Obama administration regarding the film Innocence of Muslims. That showed up in the comments. But we did agree on one thing: the freedom of speech is a right that must be upheld.
Wow.
with liberty and justice for all
I’d say a liberal and a conservative agreeing on the importance of the First Amendment is reason for hope in this brutal election season. It may be rare that Lisen and I agree on anything, but what a great place to begin.
I promise not to blog here every time we post something there. I’ll try to let you know when new posts are up so you can click over to read them if you want.
Last Friday evening, we were on our way to dinner when a grasshopper hitched a ride on our front windshield. He wasn’t smashed to oblivion like other, lesser bugs. He landed alive and held on.
He surfed through traffic and stoplights with us. As we turned onto the highway entrance ramp, I expected him to jump and fly to the grassy prairie. Instead he remained planted on the glass.
our brave passenger
His olive-colored, stick legs stood sturdy as we accelerated to 70 mph. He was motionless, except for his bright yellow antennae waving in the wind.
How strange, how remarkable he would not be blown away.
We exited the highway. The grasshopper rode through another intersection or two with us. Then he sprang into the sky and disappeared to wherever grasshoppers go.
No one told the grasshopper he couldn’t ride on the windshield. No one told him our car is thousands of times larger than he is.
He seemed at ease with his station in life. Apparently, no one told the grasshopper otherwise.
He sits enthroned above the circle of the earth,
and its people are like grasshoppers.
He stretches out the heavens like a canopy,
and spreads them out like a tent to live in. Isaiah 40:22 NIV
This post was syndicated by BlogHer on 9.20.12 and featured in the BlogHer Conferences Newsletter on 10.3.12.
I wanted to eat my breakfast.
welcome to BlogHer ’12
“Okay, everyone,” said Lisa Stone from the stage. “It’s time for Speed Dating.”
Imagine a hotel convention room filled with thousands of women. Not just ordinary women. Blogger women.
That morning, I was late to the BlogHer conference welcome breakfast hosted by co-founders Elisa Camahort Page and Lisa Stone. I was hungry. I wanted to eat.
“Form two big circles around the outside of the room.”
“I hate ice breakers,” I said to myself as I inhaled scrambled eggs. “I hate speed dating.”
“There’s room over on this side. Let’s go, ladies!”
Then it occurred to me. “You bought the ticket. Now get up and speed date!”
I joined the outside circle that faced the inside circle. For the next 20 minutes, the circles moved around each other. And I met fabulous bloggers.
Our hostesses issued the one-minute warning, and my mind returned to the bacon abandoned on my plate. “Hang on, breakfast. I’m coming!”
I had time to meet one, last blogger.
A gorgeous, vibrant blonde from California introduced herself to me. “Hi, I’m Lisen Stromberg,” she said. “You look so familiar. Where have I seen you?”
“Hi, I’m Aimee Whetstine,” I said and shook hands with her. “I was syndicated on BlogHer this week. You may have seen my face there.”
Have you ever witnessed a cat and a dog face off for the first time?
We tried to make small talk about our blogs, but we kept coming back to the issue at hand. I couldn’t understand why civil unions weren’t enough. Lisen couldn’t understand why my church didn’t approve of gay marriage. Back and forth it went. Each of us holding our positions with dignity and without screaming.
There was another blogger waiting to speak to Lisen. As I said goodbye and turned to go, I looked down at Lisen’s business card in my hand.
The moment of truth fell like the sunlight through clouds.
“You know,” I said as I turned back to face her. “We should do something together. We should write about this.”
Lisen’s eyes met mine. Was she thinking the same thing?
“Yes, we should,” she said.
“It would be good for my readers,” I said, “and for yours too, I think.”
“Yes, it would.” she said.
Today Lisen and I set out to create a forum of civil dialogue about the issues that matter. We’re launching a neutral, shared website called Finding (Un)Common Ground.
We’ll regularly post our views on hot topics and invite you to dialogue and share your thoughts. All comments and perspectives are welcomed, provided they are expressed within the bounds of civility.
Today we’re posting about the events this week in Libya and Egypt. I hope you’ll visit, share, and comment.
Civil discourse must be achieved if we are to find understanding and solutions within the issues that divide us and our country.
“Come now, let us reasontogether,” says the Lord:
“Though your sins are like scarlet,
they shall be as white as snow;
though they are red like crimson,
they shall become like wool.” Isaiah 1:18 ESV
This past Monday was the first time I’ve cried over technology.
stone woman’s face, Kansas City Plaza
Don’t know exactly what happened, but for a short time my blog site went down, refusing to show anything but post titles. If it hadn’t been for Bluehost, it might still be down.
Nick the Bluehost tech guy and I ruled out the GoDaddy hacking debacle. We suspect it had to do with a WordPress update. But who really knows what technology is capable of these days? The more we worked on it, the worse it got.
Alas, I’m a ghost in the machine.
If you’re of a certain generation, you’ll remember The Police album Ghost in the Machine. If you’re younger, I’m sorry you missed it. Just kidding. The Police were Sting’s former band.
My new best friend Nick restored my blog from a copy saved the day before. All I lost was what I’d written Monday and, for a few tense moments, my sanity.
What does that mean, ghost in the machine?
Are we merely spirits outfitted in flesh and wandering haphazardly through the mechanics of this world? In my heart I know despite what Madonna says, the material world doesn’t matter. It’s going, going, and someday will be gone.
But I live in the here and now. I breathe the physical. As much as my soul is me, so is my body me. And so is my work, my family, my home, and country, all part of the material world I inhabit. The time and space. The machine.
When the machine’s broken, it’s desperately hard to remember the machine isn’t all there is.
Times Square blur
What poor creatures we are, living with one foot in the decaying world of trolls, cancer, and terrorism, while the other stretches for a world yet to be made new.
Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. 2 Corinthians 4:16-17 NIV
Hi, everybody. Just a quick note to let you know Lisen and I are discussing immigration reform and the DREAM Act on Finding (Un)Common Ground.
