God Bless Election Pollworkers

Attended training this week to be a first-time poll worker for the Nov 2 elections. As in many past elections, I applied to work for the Registrar of Voters (ROV) in this important election, and was pleasantly surprised when notified that I had been selected for the privilege.

Like most voters, I assumed that my chores would consist of smiling, helping a few disabled voters, crossing off addresses, and passing out "I voted" lapel stickers. I had no appreciation for how hard precinct workers work on election day..... or of the barely computerized, labor-intensive state of our democratic voting system.

The 5 or 6 workers assigned to each precinct (location) work from 6 AM until 9 PM, with perhaps a two hour break in mid-morning or mid-afternoon. They are entirely responsible for first taking an oath of office, then setting up voting booths and reporting mechanisms, posting the required signs and hanging the American flag, opening the polling place, procuring paper ballots, checking qualifications of all voters, assisting voters, accommodating disabled voters, explaining electronic voting, communicating regularly with the Orange County ROV, processing spoiled ballots, reconciling the quantity of cast ballots, closing the polls and immediately transporting ballots and equipment to the ROV.

And diligently guarding against voter intimidation and interference, news media intrusion, poll watcher violations and electioneering. There are even laws to regulate who may carry a gun into a polling place and what to do if a ruckus breaks out at our precinct. (Call the local police.)

Every county in each of the 50 states and US voting territories has its own set of voting regulations and largely manual procedures. A national election is a massive, unimaginably intricate undertaking. The potential for error and fraud is enormous, and yet is quite rare in the United States solely because of the integrity and dedication of poll workers.

Poll workers are unpaid or barely paid for their election day labors, but that's hardly their reason for volunteering for this chore. They care deeply about preserving a truly free democracy, where all voters can privately participate to choose the course of their country. And they are willing to give of themselves to serve their neighbors, their communities, their nation.

God bless all who volunteer to make elections possible. Our democratic freedoms and privileges wouldn't be possible without them.

Seductive Self-Pity

I slipped and fell in my bathroom this morning. My bare feet were wet and so was the tile floor, so traction gave way to slippery and my feet flew out from under me. No real harm...just a mildly twisted, sore right leg. Nothing that can't be fixed with ice and a few days' healing.

It shook me up, though, and I've been fighting self-pity all day. You know...the female version. The little girl "poor me" variety. I hate getting older, and not bouncing right back. I hate having little accidents that I never had 20 years ago. I hate not having a different body.

Other than sex, is there anything more seductive than self-pity? The draw is so strong, yet the result is so miserable and self-defeating.

So I am fine, and I will wear slippers next time. And I will smile tonight.

Maya Linn - Model of Encouragement

Feeling discouraged that others don't see the uniqueness of your idea...the wisdom of your work...the beauty of your creation?

Consider Maya Lin. While a young architecture student at Yale University, she enrolled in a class on funerary architecture. The distinguished professor gave a class assignment for his students to enter the national competition for the design of a Vietnam Memorial, which would be constructed on the Mall in Washington DC. Ms. Linn's design proposal was one of 1420 submitted, along with one by her professor, who gave her a barely passing B- in the class.

She imagined a stark, radically different design with two long, low black granite walls, built into the earth and bearing the names of all Americans killed in the war. She specified that the granite be highly polished, so that mourners would see their reflections on the surface of the memorial.

She learned during graduation week at Yale that her design had won the competition. Many Vietnam veterans protested her memorial design, calling it depressing, dark and too plain. A few claimed that Maya Linn, born in Ohio to Chinese-descent parents, wasn't "American enough" to design a memorial to US soliders.

Today, Maya Linn's Vietnam Memorial is considered one of the world's great war monuments. Millions travel from across the US and around the world each year to admire its solemn beauty and homage.

All because she wasn't touched by discouragement....

Of Literary Agents and Formal Cotillions - A Pasadena Weekend

I attended the annual Southern California Writers Conference this past weekend in Pasadena, and came home with a new perspective on my writing. I participated in 6 workshops lead by published writers, editors, writing coaches and agents, and listened to a panel discussion by literary agents based in Los Angeles and New York.

I came home with a head full of advice on adverbs (minimal use, if at all), tense-shifting, 1st person VS 3rd person, speaker voice, voice-shifting, metaphors, dialogue and more. One exceptionally bright writing coach spoke on how to extract our emotional issues out of our writing.....at least enough so that we can objectively (adverb alert!) judge the quality of our work. Here's one hint...if we think it's brilliant, but no one else (except our mothers or spouses) see the brilliance, perhaps it's our own emotional issues coloring the words as we read them.

This sort of conference is neither a mountain-top motivating experience a la Christian retreats, nor a business-world networking impress-the-heck-out-of-everyone extravanganza. It was instructional and informative, and was centered around hanging out with other writers. Writers work in solitary, and tend to be mediocre verbal communicators, so it's pleasantly reassuring to pal around with 200 others cut from the same cloth.

Ron and Andrea came with me. We made it a getaway weekend, although we were only 35 miles from home. I grew up in San Marino, a small nearby town, so I know the quiet beauty of Pasadena. We enjoyed a good dinner, toured the Rose Bowl and Frank Lloyd Wright's Gamble House, visited the new Old Town area, and cruised Colorado. We also made a point to sightsee Fuller Theological Seminary, the Pasadena Playhouse and the Pasadena Civic Auditorium, home of the Pasadena Philharmonic Symphony.

And Andrea got treated (subjected?) to a nostalgic tour of my growing-up stomping grounds. The 2 houses; my church; my elementary, middle and high schools. She still doesn't believe I was "forced" (her word) to take social etiquette/ballroom dancing cotillion classes at the Civic Auditorium while in middle school. (The girls wore white gloves, fancy dresses and black patten shoes. The boys wore suits and ties. No sports jackets, please. This is Pasadena.)

We had fun. It was great to forget responsibiitlies, chores and politics. Ron grew up in San Francisco, and he remarked how much he misses living in a city with culture...art museums, symphony orchestras, theater, important architecture, beautiful gardens, plenty of good restaurants. I do, too.

But I think we missed something.....did the Angels or Dodgers play this weekend? :)

Trip to Seattle, Circa 1959

From a 1959 book, "The Creative Years - a Mature Faith for Adult Life" by Reuel L. Howe,

"The sex relationship of a couple is like a trip to Seattle. There are two ways of going. It is conceivable that we might travel all the way at breakneck speed looking neither to the right or left, and seeing nothing on the way --- the "Seattle or bust" approach. If we arrive at all under these conditions, we are so nervously exhausted that there can be no sense of achievement. And this is the way some couples approach intercourse.

A better way to go to Seattle is to take the time to enjoy the scenery along the way. If, for some reason, we do not get there, we have still enjoyed the trip. The chances, are, however, that we shall arrive, and arrive more fulfilingly, just because we enjoyed the trip. And so a man and wife may come together in the love act, to love each other without compulsive objectives, and be renewed by that love, no matter what its experience may be....

In conclusion, we may say that sex does not need to be a problem and is not a curse as many conclude. Sex is a part of us all, and is to be accepted as such."

Pages 106 to 107, if you don't believe me. I have a copy if you want to see it.

I always liked Seattle.....

God's Goodness and a Diamond Watch

I like jewelry just as much as as the next white Anglo-Saxon Protestant middle-class suburbia-dwelling wife and mother. I have the requisite dozen or so interesting semi-precious necklaces and bracelets, a couple strings of real pearls, diamond wedding rings and matching earrings, two quality watches that I never wear, gold and silver chains. and a drawful of of costume jewelry accumulated over decades. About average for my peer group.

I wear jewelry everyday...earrings, simple wedding band, gold or silver neck chain...but I don't lust after jewelry. I don't long for it. In fact, I never even think about it. It's rarely on my Christmas or birthday list.

Yesterday, paging idly through a magazine while watching a baseball game, I saw it. A watch, but not just any watch. An elegant, smart watch from Tiffanys, with a tailored black leather band, square "tank-style" gold face, and a bezel surrounding the face with rectangular-cut baguette diamonds. It wasn't cocktail flashy, but it shouted "pricey" all the same. It was gorgeous!

It probably costs tens of thousands of dollars. It would be out of place with my clothes and my life. I don't lust for it, but I admire it. It will never be mine, and that's OK. Even if Ron and I had millions, I doubt we would spend inordinate amounts on jewelry, clothes, cars, mcmansions, etc. (Maybe one great vacation, though.) God has met our needs, and there are millions in this world who have no food, shelter or books. We would give to them as God has given to us.

That's one of the nice things about getting older. We're satisfied. We know who we are. We've learned to differentiate between needs and wants. And we've experienced God's graciousness in all things.

Twenty-five years ago, I would have lusted (and maybe overspent) for that spectacular watch. Today, I admire it as a object of art, and then forget it.

God is good.

Baseball vs The Apprentice vs Presidential Debates

Let's see....we'll actually be home this Thursday evening. Wonder what's on TV?

Uh oh. Conflict time. Our beloved Anaheim Angels playing a must-win game for a play-off berth. Exciting game last night. Two homeruns, great pitching. Good fun.

"The Apprentice," one funny program, although not as funny this season. Seems a bit contrived. No one would hire a couple of those loonies. They're ratings draws....not potential employees and what's with that pretentious big-word guy with the cane?

And the over-hyped, over-negotiated, over-rehearsed Presidential debates. Talk about contrived. If Bush had put half as much effort into dealing with the UN as his 30-member negotiation team did for setting debate rules, he wouldn't be so close to losing the presidency. Wouldn't you rather see these two guys shout it out, no holds barred, at one of Bush's beer-and-barbecue fests down on the ranch? Now that would be both authentic and entertaining.

Ok...need to set some priorities, so here goes.

Watch the Angels. Tape "The Apprentice." The hell with the debates. They'll be overanalyzed ad naseum, anyway, on every news channel. We won't be spared one agonizing moment of the silly debacle between rich bully boy and rich aloof guy.

Off to the market to get our requisite peanuts in the shell and red vines for baseball game watching