Remedies

Remedy 1:

The waning days of this campaign have been tiresome. As Pennsylvania slips in and out of battleground status, the McCain ads have become increasingly negative and the rhetoric I am hearing has made me almost glad that my current battle with a massive sinus infection has stuffed my ears to the point that I barely hear myself speak, much less anyone else.

But I have found a remedy to the rhetoric. Every time I hear or read something completely asinine, I give money to the Obama campaign. I've only been doing this since October 10 and I have only made three donations, yet I feel as if I am doing something to combat the assholeness swirling around me.

My first donation came in the guise of a $15.00, long sleeved, Obama 08 campaign t-shirt. This purchase was precipitated by my accidental involvement in an email thread wherein the originator of the thread sent a link to a pro-Obama article, but forgot to BCC the recipients. As I was disinterested in a flame war, I sat back and practiced deep breathing in an attempt to lower my rising blood pressure. Yes, I should have hit the delete button, but I could not bring myself to look away from the train wreck.

It was the last message of the thread that provoked me to walk across the street to the Squirrel Hill Obama campaign office and purchase the t-shirt, as the sender stated “he looks good when he stands next to McCain on TV, and plenty of women will vote for him”.

Nice to know that a complete stranger has such a low opinion of women. The ritual of purchasing the t-shirt and chatting with the staff was soothing. “I know you are a Democrat” one staffers remarked as I waited behind a couple of middle aged women purchasing yard signs. “Because Democrats are patient, and you have that patient look about you”.

Fifteen dollars to Obama.

My second purchase was yesterday. Sick of the negative ads and given an opportunity to do a good deed, I trundled across the street to the campaign office, purchased $20.00 worth of swag in the form of a t-shirt, rally sign and buttons (including a “Steelers fan for Obama” pin) and mailed the entire bundle to a child in Canada.

Donation three came tonight, on the heels of one of my coworkers commenting that a vote for Obama was a vote for communism. Or was it socialism? The conversation began innocently enough, with him asking us if we were as ready for the election to be over as he was. Then it veered into crazy territory.

Presumably I will receive a special edition car magnet and possibly a t-shirt for my donation. When I suggested that I affix the magnet to a hidden spot on my right wing conservative B-I-L's car, as some sort of reverse voodoo curse, J rolled his eyes.

My only regret is that I did not do this sooner. I could have picked up a sterling silver Obama charm. Unfortunately, the website is sold out.

Remedy 2:

In addition to campaign fatigue, I have a sinus infection. Not just a little infection, but a full blown, head stuffing, ear clogging, sore throat, slowly losing my voice and developing a cough infection. So massive that I broke down and started taking full doses of day and night time cold medicines in the hope of mitigating some of the symptoms. I'm drinking so much water and herbal tea that I'm only sleeping three hours maximum at a stretch because that is the longest I can go without needing to use the bathroom. And I worry that one night I will not be able to wake up on time.

And none of it is working all that well. The cold medicine takes almost an hour to kick in and the effects last far less than the four hour claim on the box and makes me sick to my stomach. I'm having a little more success dealing with the sore throat with periodical doses of ibuprofen, but worry about how much damage I'm doing to my liver. The anesthetic throat drops are not all that numbing.

So tonight, in a last effort to bring myself some relief, I elected to experiment with a home remedy known as “irrigating the sinuses”. In other words, I shot warm saltwater up my nose.

I would not call it the most unpleasant experience, but the feel and taste of warm saltwater dripping down my throat into my mouth does not rank as the end all/be all of fun times. It did nothing to ease the pressure in my left ear, but did leave a pleasant tingling sensation and an urge to sneeze.

Eighteen

I had jury duty a few weeks ago. I learned something from jury duty.

I learned that that as much as I think that I believe in the idea of presumptive innocence, I can't practice it in some situations. There is a limit to my ability to put my personal experience and assumptions aside when asked to sit in judgment on another human being.

Such as when the defendant is accused of sexually assaulting, with penetration, his very young daughter.

When the clerk read the charges out loud, he finished by acknowledging the heinous nature of the charges and asking the jury pool if anyone had reservations about serving in an impartial manner.

My hand went up immediately. One of fifteen or twenty out of a pool of close to fifty potential jurors. I felt sick inside.

I was potential juror number four. Sitting in the front row.

When called, I walked up to the desk and sat down, said hello. Looked at the district attorney and the defense attorney straight in the eye. Could not bring myself to look at the defendant.

My interview with the attorneys was one question long. The defense attorney asked me what prejudice I had, I replied with a single sentence.

"Because I was sexually assaulted when I was eighteen".

I was immediately excused.

I rarely talk about what happened to me when I was eighteen and I don't intend to do so here. But I realized, sitting in that room, listening to those charges, that I am still giving too much mental and emotional real estate to a man who does not deserve it.

Some things are not easily forgotten.

I also want to believe that I did the correct thing by being honest, that I gave the defendant a better chance at a fair trial. But there is no nobility in prejudice, especially when the guilt or innocence of another human being is at stake.

Since that day in the jury selection room, I have combed the newspapers, trying to find out what happened to the defendant. Did he get a fair trial? Was he exonerated or found guilty?

And did I do the right thing?

Fall Stories

1. I have the coolest doctor, ever. Bad allergies lead to significant breathing problems, which lead to a sinus infection, which lead my doctor to prescribe a steroid based inhaler, a course of antibiotics, an order to see an allergist and a set of instructions on how to make my home and office environment more bearable until it gets cold enough to kill all the remaining pollen.

The cool part came when she looked me straight in the eye and told me that I had to reduce the total number of books in the bedroom to three. When I looked at her in total shock (I had eleven books stacked next to the bed at the time of our conversation) she laughed and said "I have the best patients. Every patient I have given that instruction to has looked at me the same way you are looking at me right now."

2. Early darkness seems to have drawn the slightly eccentric out of their homes and out on to the streets, to linger at bus stops lecturing their fellow citizens about proper deportment on the streets.

I missed the initial incident that led to two black women lecturing a young, drunk, black man about the proper way to conduct himself as a salesperson on the street. (Bear with me. There is a point to identifying their race). As I approached the shelter I noticed that one of the women was smoking, so I elected to stand outside the shelter. But it was drizzling and I wanted to continuing reading one of the thirteen books (obviously I have not followed doctor's orders yet) that reside next to my bed, so I slipped inside the shelter and sat down next to the young man.

And was promptly assaulted by the distinct smell of beer. He was well on his way to drunk.

But he sat quietly while the two women lectured him, even when one of them said that his sales technique, which consisted of him saying "hey sweet baby, c'mere, I have some DVDs for youuuu" would scare white women like myself and a second woman standing in the shelter. *

Shortly after this statement, a bus came and took the two black women away. The young man slurred an apology for possibly scaring us, then tried to sell us a dvd. Failing that, he tried to get fifty cents off of us.

More buses started to pull up, three in a row. Mine was the third. As the first two pulled away, I noticed the third was not pulling up to the stop, so I began walking towards it. As I got closer I could hear the female driver shout for us to speed up and get on, before she was forced to let our young, drunk friend onto the bus.

I was shocked when she shut the door in his face and pulled away from the stop. Shock turned to relief when she explained (and other passengers verified) that he had been drunk, disorderly and had refused to pay the last time he rode her bus.

*Her exact phrase as she was explaining it to him, "No offense to you women; but if you talk like that a white woman, she is going to be afraid of you..."