A New Beginning, and a Time to End What I Started Here So Long Ago

 

Twelve years ago, on this very date, on another Inauguration Day, I started this blog on a note of hope and change. Barack Obama was being sworn in as president for the first time and it was a day so overwhelming I felt as if I might burst if I didn't put my thoughts to good use. 

We had come away from what seemed like an awful eight years, brought to us by George W.  Bush and Dick Cheney. They took us into an unnecessary, deadly war. They took a huge surplus left by Bill Clinton and turned it into a massive deficit. They lied so often it became commonplace, and too many people accepted the lies and turned against the best of our programs. Ordinary people didn't have a chance.

 It seemed as if, with Obama, we were being rescued.

I needed to be a part of that, if only as an unknown witness, an observer, a chronicler. I look back on the pieces I wrote during those 12 years sometimes with joy and sometimes with sorrow. I didn't chronicle everything. I picked and chose whatever struck me and I didn't keep a schedule. I saw it as a blog and not a job. It was my place and I loved having it here.

I built a sidebar that showcased other writers doing meaningful and wonderful work. Most of them are still there, thankfully. They did see it as a job, and they never gave up. (The sidebar is still there, still up to date, still there for you to use.)

You'll notice I dropped out often after Trump was 'elected'. The heart went out of my political writing. I didn't realize as it was happening how broken-hearted I was. For four solid years I felt as if my country, our country, was barely surviving under the clutches of an abuser. I felt powerless. I was powerless. But I should have had more faith in my country's absolute requirement that democracy must prevail.

History will view Donald Trump's presidency as a warning that, as a democracy, we were far more fragile than we could have imagined. Those of us who warned against him early on couldn't imagine that a president of the United States could go that rogue. Trump was always an incorrigible liar and a crook. He was always a narcissist and a sociopath. What we didn't expect was the help he would get from a political party sworn to preserve the republic and to protect us from all enemies, both foreign and domestic.

I don't need to regurgitate Trump's four years here. In fact, I refuse. But as I write this, Joseph R. Biden Jr. was just sworn in as the 46th President of these United States. Kamala Devi Harris was just sworn is as the first Female of Color to ever advance to the Vice Presidency. The Democrats have a tenuous hold on both the House and the Senate, and Biden's cabinet is already at work to begin the healing and take us to a far different place.

And I see today, this very moment, as the perfect time to end this blog and move on. I love what I've done here, but the truth is, almost nobody sees it. I've lost the ability to allow comments and I haven't been able to figure out how to change that. It's not a community without comments. We need to have a conversation. Or at least I do. 

So I've moved to Substack, to newsletter country, and I hope I'll see you there. My general blog/newsletter is called Constant Commoner. It's a continuation of the things I write here and at Medium.

The second newsletter, Writer Everlasting, is geared toward writers and writing. Both are public and can be read at any time without a paywall. 

 You can also find me here at Bluesky. I look forward to seeing you there.

This blog will always be here, as long as Blogger allows it. The posts I've written will be available as an archive. And do keep an eye on the posts under "Necessary Voices", at the sidebar to the right. They won't disappoint.

2020 was a dreadful year for most of us.  2021 brings us new hope. I want to be there with you as we fight to make it right. But right now I want to enjoy this day. Let's all enjoy this day.

And wasn't Lady Gaga amazing?

_____________________________

No, seriously, I've just moved; I'm not going away. I still have much to say, just in another neighborhood. I'm over at Substack most of the time now. I've moved Constant Commoner to Substack, and I've added a blog called Writer Everlasting. (Geared to writers, though anyone can read it.)

I have an author's page. Sort of. It's all here. The doors are always open and I'm always ready for company.

A Piece on Writing Opinion Pieces. Imagine that!

I had the pleasure of writing a guest post for Anne Wayman's great website, "About Freelance Writing" and it was published today.  My blog--this one right here--concerns itself mainly with political opinion, which means I tend to dive right into controversies on purpose--and often for fun.  So when Anne asked me to do a piece on writing about controversial subjects--well, of course I dove right in.

I called it "How to Survive Writing Opinion Pieces" and started it like this:

When I began writing a weekly column for a small chain of suburban newspapers, I was thrilled that I could write about anything as long as it fit the space (600-800 words). I had happened upon a lazy editor hungry for content (and eager to pay me as little as possible) and he gave me a chance, even though my newspaper experience was just north of nil.

Ronald Reagan was president then and I was a flaming liberal feminist, so what started out being a column about kids and cats and lovely Liz Taylor’s appearance on General Hospital turned into an ongoing rant against the establishment.

I lived near Detroit at the time and the auto industry was dying. People were losing their jobs right and left. Food banks were emptying out as fast as they were filled, and the churches serving the poor couldn’t keep up. I began to attend emergency meetings on poverty and reported strenuously on the suffering I found.

I wrote about women’s issues, about religion, about civil rights, about the still-strong feelings over Vietnam. So I shouldn’t have been surprised when the letters to the editor began to take on a surly note, most of them directed at me. But I was. I was surprised. They hurt!

***So I would really love it if you would go over to "About Freelancing" to read the rest.  And don't forget to comment.  If you feel like it, that is.  Either here or there.  We both love visitors.

And we both thank you.

Ramona

An already belligerent 21st Century enters its Teens

Just two weeks from today, on the 21th of January, 2013, Barack Obama will be inaugurated for the second time as president of these United States.

Obama, as you may remember, is our first half-black president and the man so loathed by his political archenemies, for four full years jillions of dollars destined for desperately needed domestic growth have been held hostage while those jackals were busy working at destroying his presidency.  All so that he would never, ever get a second chance at under-privatizing America.

Last year, in 2012 (A most hectic and flabbergasting year. There's no chance anything like the Republican campaign to nominate a presidential candidate and get him elected will ever come our way again. Right?) we learned one thing for sure:  Never turn your back on your enemies.  Or your front, either.  They're everywhere.  But what the enemy side learned in return after spending an unprecedented three or four or maybe five billion dollars to put a Republican in the White House is that money can't buy you love.  (Fear, yes, but love. . .uh uh.)  Barack Obama won a second term handily.
 
Let me write that again:  Barack Obama won a second term handily.

But, while it's true that my guy won and that other guy lost, and I'm so glad 2012 is over and done, I'm already getting nervous about 2013. The 21st century, a century already not known for it's kindness or consideration, is becoming a teenager.  If we thought we had seen enough of our new century's oblivious silliness, misdirected angst, and uncontrollable rage, just wait until those hormones really kick in.

If we thought we had to be vigilant before, I submit that our tasks are just beginning. We can't be everywhere all the time and it's natural that things will get by us, but we should keep in mind that in order for any century to continue along a good and healthy path, it has to learn good and healthy habits in its formative years.   This is a duty that must not be shirked, and, of course, it's our side that knows just how to do it.  Ahem.  And Aha.

Remember the last century?  The notorious Twentieth?  It had its ups and downs--lots of downs--but who could have predicted that in the 21st Century we would be looking back with fondness on so many elements of the one that came before? Not me. I thought by the 21st century we'd be looking back and thinking, "How quaint. We won't be doing that again."

But here we are, fighting many of the same domestic battles against poverty, health care, education, women's issues, labor issues, and inequality of every shape and form.  Are we strong enough to finally make the changes necessary to make us a true government of the people?  I think so.  I hope so.  Sure we are.

When I started this venture four years ago, on the very afternoon of Barack Obama's first inauguration, I didn't have a clue about what I was doing.  (Oh, yeah?  That obvious, huh?)  I called my website "Ramona's Voices" because I knew my opinions wouldn't count for much without some backup, either undeniably expert or profoundly convincing.  I'm constantly surprised by the things I've missed while others could see them coming a mile away  Every now and then I can see things early, or at least not last, but what this all tells me is that we need each other to make sense of what's going on out there. 

I plan on keeping on with this.  I'm apparently enjoying the misery of it all way too much to stop now.  But there are changes coming, including a possible move to Wordpress.  I'm thinking about changing my blog name, too, if it won't cause too much turmoil (on my part, not yours).

What do you think?  Be honest, now.  You're my focus group.

But whatever happens in this tumultuous teen year, I'm hoping to share it with a roomful of company.  LOUD company.  Boisterous company.  Smart and funny, too.  Because lord knows, I'm not up to doing this all by myself.

(Cross-posted at dagblog, as always.)

On Waking Up to Seventy Five

So yes, it has happened:  I am 75 years old today.  Don't worry, I feel fine.  I'm still the same person, but one now saddled with the realization that I have lived three quarters of a century.  My God. How does a thing like that happen?

I'm planning a big day in which I'll be pondering some burning questions:  How the hell could three quarters of a century have sailed by so fast?  If I had been paying attention, could I have done something to slow it down?  And any chance I'm only half way to the end?

But it's not just my big day, it's a big day for you, too.  You probably don't often get a chance to sit by the side of a septuagenarian, gleaning words of wisdom.  I've always wanted to do this and now I think I've earned the right.

So here they are.

Ramona's Words of Wisdom.

Ready?

Five things I've learned along the way:

1. I don't know everything and it's beginning to look like I never will.

2. 75 feels just like 74, only older.

3. Laugh lines look no better than frown lines, but you have a lot more fun getting them. (I may have stolen that one, but it was probably from some old broad, so who cares?)

4. Life is good when life is good but it really sucks when it's not.

5. . . . . . . . (Apparently there were only four.)

So off I go, trying to get used to the idea that, as long as I keep breathing in and out and can still hop on one foot, this three-quarter-century thing might be okay.  (But if something happens to change that I'm going to be pissed.)

Me at 12, Highland Park, MI - Not a thought in the world about ever being 75

Me yesterday -- Trying to remember what it felt like to be that girl

Honoring Boundless Hearts

Sarge was an idealist, a man of boundless heart, and a hard-headed businessman who from the ground up built a government program—and he was never afraid to call it just that because he disdained anti-government stereotypes—that has become an enduring force for American purpose and compassion, vastly popular at home and around the globe.
George McGovern on Sargent Shriver,  1/19/11

Two years ago today, on the day President Obama was inaugurated, I published the first entry in my blog, Ramona's Voices.  When I woke up that morning I didn't know I was going to launch a blog.  It was only after the events started that I was moved to create one more sounding board where the voices of people I admired might be heard, where their actions could be encouraged and celebrated  (and where the movements of the people who seem bent on destroying the soul of this country could be recorded and exposed).

There was just so much good will floating around that day, mingling with hope and anticipation.  My heart was full.  I saw sunshine ahead; I was sure the dark days were behind us.  It was a day to remember.

Last year, on the first anniversary of the inauguration of both the president and my blog,  I wrote "I'm not ready to write Obama off.  I'm nervous about a lot of what's been coming out of the White House this past year--I admit it.  When I saw Wall Street move in, I chewed my fingers to the nubs.  When Rahm Emmanuel became the head whip-cracker, I felt a distinct shiver up my spine.  And when Barack Obama stopped talking about labor, even as hundreds of thousands of our workers were losing their jobs every month,  I gave up any inclination I might have had to genuflect.
I keep reminding myself that the Good Man took on what amounted to a national nightmare.  There were no easy fixes, and nobody pretended there would be.  But I would have slept better this past year if only I had been able to see the president as a "people person".   Was he ever that?  I don't know.  We might have made him into our own images, taking much needed comfort in an illusion of our own making.  Maybe he is what he is.  But what is he?  After a full year of hosting him in The People's House we're no closer to knowing where he stands, or, more importantly, where he's going.
And yet. . .  And yet.  I trust him"

I knew this anniversary day was coming and that I would want to write about it, but what would I say as I stood beside Obama saying farewell to Year Two, heading into Year Three?  That all of my wishes came true?  That all of my fears were justified?  That nothing much has changed?  That I now know what kind of man my president is?

I can't say any of those things.   I am at times proud of my president, disappointed in him, enraged by his actions or inaction, fearful of the direction he is taking us.

I'm impatient and feeling increasingly impotent as I'm forced to watch more and more jobless citizens give up, more and more home-owners become homeless, more and more of the sick and dying having to give over their lives to insurance company paper-pushers.  I want the wars to end.  I want the corporate giants to finally understand the consequences and do something about their destructive practices.  I want the GOP and certain members of the Democratic Party to fulfill their obligations to the citizenry--the entire citizenry--in a time of unparalleled crisis, and act like a responsible governing body.  I want our president to be a leader of the people.

I want us to be a country of boundless hearts.  I want the people who advocate goodness and mercy to be heard, and not looked on as quaint, anachronistic know-nothings.  There is a place for this kind of talk, just as there is a place for the analyzing and dissection of every political action, left or right.  It all leads to a greater understanding, and possibly real solutions.

As I'm entering Year Three of Ramona's Voices, this is how I view my blog:  It is what it is until it no longer is.  That's the beauty of this dazzling, dizzying world called the Internet(s)--we all have a chance at putting our voices out there.  Distinct and different, interesting or not--it's an equal opportunity world.  The ultimate exercise in free speech.  What's not to love?
*
*

Two Little Boys, Sittin' in the Mud. . .

There's nothing Chris Matthews likes better than a good fight. That's not my observation alone-- every now and then he has to laugh at himself when he slyly admits that he loves a good verbal battle so much he's been known to instigate one just to keep his addiction going.

Maybe that's why he didn't come to classy, smart Joan Walsh's defense last night when that crude, boorish anachronism known as Dick Armey went after her--I guess for being so far ahead of him he couldn't keep up.

Watch Dick Armey as Joan Walsh speaks, but watch Matthews, too. They're like two little boys listening to the smart lady who's talking way over their heads. They squirm, they wiggle, they grin. . .Matthews because he's sitting right across from Armey, watching his every move, and he knows there's going to be fireworks when Walsh stops.

But keep watching, because toward the end you'll see Bob Herbert stop "Hardball" dead in it's tracks in order to say what Matthews himself should have said the second Armey launched his nutty, sexist attack. (I'm crazy about Bob Herbert, and this is just one reason why.)

And, finally, watch as Matthews realizes that he should have been the grownup there, and only after Bob Herbert brings it to his attention does he then reluctantly admit that Armey was out of line.



I haven't forgotten Matthews' goofy explanation of why Hillary Clinton got where she was. But in case you have, here it is:



Let's face it, "Hardball" is a train wreck and Chris Matthews is the man-child engineer. My only excuse for watching it is. . .that I have no excuse.

But if Joan Walsh and Bob Herbert can stomach him long enough to spend a few minutes on his show, the least I can do is watch.

Ramona