Colorful rainy day

The leaves are still so bright that the cloudy, rainy day is not dreary at all.

S. answered the phone today when I called. His phone has just been turned back on today, having been off for awhile. I was happy to connect. He's in the process of moving out of his apartment and has just spent the last four days hauling things to the new place and to storage. He'll be renting a room in a fancy house in an elegant neighborhood. He texted me a photo and I also checked it out on google satellite. It's a very nice four-bedroom home. Apparently the owner stretched to buy the house and now needs a little help to meet the mortgage. S's rent will now be much less than the apartment's, though he isn't entirely happy about having to share space with a near-stranger. But he said it was the best situation of many opportunities that came up.

He's been getting by through selling his things on the internet. However, the last time he placed ads, he instructed potential buyers to phone him rather than email back because the internet would soon be cut off. Just after posting the last ad, his phone was cut off, so he couldn't receive calls from prospective buyers. But I think things are turning around. He's sure he'll have a job within a few days...he's been postponing pounding the pavements in favor of finding a less expensive living situation while selling possessions on ebay.

Paul started a tradition in our family. We go out and buy a birthday cake for every family member, whether they live with us or not. So we went out today and bought S's birthday cake in his honor and wired him a little birthday bonus so he won't starve.

We had a big lemon harvest, but not the way I wanted it. Yesterday, while in the attic, L. found a few mice winking at him. He believed they were gaining access to the attic through the lemon tree in the back yard whose branches now protrude onto the roof on one side. He decided it was time to do a little trimming. I knew this would have to happen. We practically have lemons dipping into the water of the pond. But I felt such a loss when those beautiful branches, laden with bright yellow lemons, came crashing to the ground. It seemed like a sacriledge, a travesty against nature. Of course the remaining tree is tall and beautiful and has enough lemons to stock a store, but it still pained me to fell those branches. I loved those branches! They had created a cover that I used to walk under. Now the yard looks so big and exposed. We filled up many bags with fallen lemons, to take to work and give away. I still feel depressed. Is it possible for a tree to be almost a friend?

L. still has back pain. He had an appointment tomorrow, but on Wednesday the doctor called and cancelled it. Now he must wait until tomorrow to re-schedule. Isn't that typical? I hope we can find some solution for his condition soon. I feel his pain too!

Melancholy Birthdays

Today is my brother's 56th birthday. We've grown apart. I saw him once a few years ago in Burlington when I took that memorable drive to Nova Scotia with Jean and Ruth. We stopped for the night in Burlington at Diana's house. She had arranged to import my brother from his home across the lake. We had a pleasant visit considering that we had not seen or heard from each other for at least a decade. (Not that I hadn't tried.) After the visit, I emailed him or wrote or something, but never heard back. Diana says he never calls her either although he'll come to the phone if she calls him. His family sends a newsletter, usually written by his wife or daughter, once per year. It's sad that we have no connection, but at this point, I feel no drive to try again and again to get one. He's never once sent me a birthday card, though I used to send one to him every year. Face it; he just doesn't care.

Unfortunately, my second son inherited the same gene. Or could it be something about the Sagittarian sign? His 35th birthday is tomorrow. He's never been one to communicate from afar---there was once a stretch during his years in Maine where I heard not a word from him for three or four years. Right now, I would very much like to know what's going on with him since he lost his job six weeks ago and does not qualify for unemployment benefits (he texted me that much a month ago). Does he have another job yet?? Is he still in the same apartment? He hasn't returned my messages. Maybe he resents having me in his business, but I'm concerned about whether he has shelter and food. Would any parent feel differently? I predict that when I phone him tomorrow, he will not answer either a)because the phone's disconnected or b)he doesn't want to talk.


Last night, I had a sentimental dream. In the dream, Liberto and I were visiting David, who was still alive, in a farmhouse where he lived. The three of us enjoyed a pleasant conversation over dinner, and talked about going to the movies. However, (suddenly,as happens in dreams but with no surprise)I was pregnant with Shawn and about to deliver him. A midwife appeared and on a mattress in one the farmhouse rooms, I delivered easily and naturally a newborn Shawn, all peachy and pink, the way he really was at birth. Though the real birth was in a hospital, it was a hippie's dream of easy and natural, without those evil DRUGS that the mean male doctors kept pushing on innocent laboring women! The culture at the time pressured women into believing that anything less than natural childbirth was a personal failure. That fad, silly in retrospect, seems to have given way to common sense among today's generation of childbearers. Society, after all, doesn't pressure people into having "natural" root canals.

I woke up from that dream awash with melancholy, first, about David, who is no longer with us, and second, about Shawn, who IS still with us but prefers not to connect.

On the bright side, my sister and I are reasonably close and talk on the phone once a week. On the bright side, my older son calls sometimes and lets us visit.

Thankfully, I have a busy, enriching life with family, friends, neighbors, pets, and job. I'm never bored, and I don't sit by the phone waiting the call that will never come from Brother Paul or Shawn. But when I see how Liberto connects with his sisters and his beloved Mamita and Papa, I admire the Hispanic way. He talks to his stateside sister at least once a day and talks to his parents and other sisters at least once a week, for a long, web-cammed, high-volume conversation. From what I can gather observing his Hispanic friends and their customs, most of them follow that same model. And how they revere their Mommies! American culture, on the other hand, is all about Westward Expansion---on a personal level-- Independence, Freedom, Bravery, Me-Firstness. I recognize this even in myself, when I contrast myself with Liberto's family values. At this age, I don't know how to transform myself into an Hispanic, but I'm thankful to be married to one.

Rainy November day

Despite the rain, the day didn't seem gloomy because the leaves are still so bright. The streets are lined with yellow and orange trees. The grayish backdrop and the shining water seems to accentuate the colors. This morning, before the rain started, Paul and I took another walk in the woods with Pete and noticed that the path was covered with twice as many fallen leaves as yesterday. The tree colors will disappear soon.

We'd been talking about buying a new couch, so when Liberto said this afternoon, "Want to go take a look?" I did not have to be persuaded. Anything to get away from those research papers! It was just beginning to pour when we walked out the front door, so I opened my beautiful frog umbrella. We drove off, windshield wipers at full speed. Not only did we buy a new couch, we bought two couches and a coffee table, at a very good sale price. For us, that's a big day out.

At the first store, we saw a couch we liked, but decided we'd come back tomorrow to get it when it was scheduled to go on sale. Then we went to the next store, "just to look" and both of us fell in love simultaneously with a light blue-green couch that would work well with our living room colors (we now have blue walls; the original light pink having been painted over). For both of us to instantly like the same style and color of anything is a first. When the nice salesman offered a discounted price, we dove into full impulse-shopper-mode and said, "Let's get two! How about a coffee table too!" They'll be delivered in about two weeks.

At the first store, we had also looked at table and chair sets for the kitchen, not that we'd planned to. But furniture stores are as tempting as a pastry shop. Maybe they have subliminal messages written faintly on the items or maybe they've got subliminal suggestions in the music soundtracks, but whatever it is, we were staring hungrily at the nice furniture, probably because most of ours is so plain. We've never been able to give furniture a high priority compared to all the other expenses of life. We've had the same kitchen table for many years, and when I saw a cool, fashionable wooden table, elevated, with a booth-like arangement of black chairs, I wanted it! But Liberto liked a different table, square and traditional, that I thought was too dark and formal. We decided to think about it. At the second store, however, we saw one we both loved. Bingo! But we agreed not to go wild and buy a table and chairs too. Enough is enough for one day.

Now we're settled in back at home. The rain is still streaming down the windows. I've tackled more research papers. I have to keep taking deep breaths---Ommmmmm!---and remind myself that these are only ninth graders, not college students, as I continue to find papers with copy-and-paste plagiarism, memoirs without any research incorporated at all, research with incorporated material but no MLA documentation, etc, etc! I had them write it as a process paper, giving points for each part of the process, from topic to final paper, hoping that way I'd prevent any problems with the final paper. I assigned an I-search research paper, which combines personal story with research because I feel that forces researchers to announce their research and openly evaluate it, rather than hide behind long patches of plagiarized crap. There is a certain structure to the I-search paper. We read a model I-search paper in class, which is right in the student textbook, and I gave them a handout with the I-search structure explicity demonstrated. Ah well. I'm just wondering what I will do differently next semester to get the message across that secondary source material needs to be documented. Actually, I do remember many college students who also couldn't seem to fathom that same message, so I'll try to be patient with these 14-year-olds! I remember Terry telling me that when she was a new teacher, long ago, she got worked up about something a student wrote, so she wrote in the margins, "JESUS CHRIST! You don't really believe that, do you?" Luckily, she had written in pencil, so when common sense and pedagogical training prevailed, she was able to erase the comment and write something a tad more tactful before returning it to the student.

Thanksgiving Day

Here we are, spudded on the couch in front of the big screen, on a nice, lazy Thanskgiving Day. Liberto is on his cell phone with Grelia, volume rising in Spanish, and I'm watching the readable headlines on CNN since the sound is turned off for L's phone call.

The weather was fantastic today, sunny, in the high 60's, but now, at 5:10, the sky is darkening. Earlier, Paul and I took Pete for a walk in the woods. Liberto's back was feeling well enough to cook a pork loin, which is far less work than a turkey, so we had a nice mid-day meal. After that, none of us could work up the initiative to do anything, such as see a movie. We don't go to the movies anymore the way we used to, simply because there is hardly ever anything playing that excites me enough to make the trip. With Netflix, HBO, Pay Per View, and On Demand, it's easy to pass on spending an afternoon huddled into tight seats, surrounded by an auditorium full of people. I wish something would be released that I desperately want to see.

Older son phoned and we had a short conversation before he had to go because friends were arriving. Second son hasn't contacted me for several weeks, not since the last time I wired some money, and hasn't returned my calls. Naturally, I'm concerned about what's up with him.

Yesterday, I had a wonderful time with Terry. We decided to ride in the same car, so she picked me up, and we drove to a Thai Restaurant across from Oglethorpe Mall. Over a tasty meal, we caught up. She has the whole Thanksgiving week off and finishes the semester in another week, whereas, I go right up to the 19th. Yet she says she is very, very burned out and wants very much to retire. Teaching four writing classes each semester is tough; I remember! I was very burned out when I left Georgia Southern. For me, the endless grading of essays was soul-numbing, and add to that the committee work, the meetings, and the constant pressure to publish and present. To be honest, I have lost my desire to do academic research. At this point, there is nothing I can think of it that I'd want to research or write about if I were still an academic. Terry is doing several projects that are interesting to her, but at the same time, she's tired of all the grading that goes with teaching.

Of course we talked a lot about our late colleagues, Pete and David. I always admired how Pete was so committed to his writing that he did it every day from 4 o'clock till midnight, no matter what. Even when he became ill, he was still pounding away at the keyboard every day in the office. I, on the other hand, am probably not a "real" writer like he was. I do not have the urge to write anything more than my blog even though I know I "should" want to write another book. But I haven't been writing a book because 1)I have nothing in particular that I want to say right now and 2)writing a book is such an overwhelming commitment of time, energy and solitude, that when I balance that against the pleasure of the time I have with my family and friends, the joy of reading, and the delight of admiring my lemon tree and koi fish, the latter wins. Furthermore 3)I like my current job, and learning the 9th grade curriculum, preparing, reading, grading takes a lot of time right now. I'd rather devote myself to the job. I still have a creative project budding, but it's not a book. More on that later.

Anyway, back to our lunch and conversation. Terry told me an interesting story. During the Great Depression, her grandmother was in bad shape and had to consider placing Terry's mother and her siblings into an orphanage or foster care because she couldn't afford to provide for them. At the last minute, she wrote a letter to Eleanor Roosevelt, who actually did something about it. She arranged or had her staff arrange, to set Terry's grandmother up with either a job or relief, so she didn't have to give up her children. Since Terry's mother's 80th birthday is on Monday, Terry decided to track down that letter by contacting some government organization. They wrote back to her, with the date and the file number of the presumed letter, which she can now seek from the archives where Ms.Roosevelt's materals are housed. My mother said once I was named after Eleanor Roosevelt. I've always admired her. I happened to be covering the Depression in my class due to its connection to To Kill a Mockingbird. In a United Streaming film, Eleanor Roosevelt was shown in grainy black and white standing outside pouring water for people in Hoovervilles. It was heartwarming to hear a more personal story of how she impacted someone's life.

After lunch, we went to the mall. I don't particularly seek out mall shopping and rarely think about new clothes, but once I'm in a mall, strolling through, I can get into the spirit of spending. We stopped at Barnes and Noble, and I bought a book I'd been wanting to read. We moved on to Macy's, where Terry bought a couple of tops, and I bought some new jeans for Friday dress-down days at school. We drove over to Ann Taylor loft, and I decided I was long overdue for some decent nightwear, so I bought some soft, cottony pants-and-top sleepwear. Liberto loved it! The top is a little too low for around the house, though. Too much cleavage. Paul kept averting his eyes and saying, "Mom! Don't you want to put something over that?"

When Terry finally dropped me off, Liberto was already home. I'd promised Paul that morning before leaving with Terry that we could go to Wal-Mart together for groceries, and I'd also promised him that we could get Chinese take-out for dinner. So off we drove to Wal-Mart, where, as usual, I saw a few current and former students. One former student was a cashier. He'd been in my class last spring at Groves. Bless his heart, he told me that a lot of the students at Groves "missed" me. Wasn't that sweet? We stopped at the China Wok to get Paul his take-out, after which I had to stop and buy Liberto "something sweet" at Food Lion. When we finally got home and settled in, I ate my leftover Thai lunch, which I'd brought home in a box. I only got a few research papers done yesterday, but that's okay, I had fun and cleared my mind from schoolwork for a while.

On Tuesday afternoon, at the end of the schoolday, the principal and AP were standing in the hall, and both smiled at me, and said, "Dr. Agnew, I hope you have a wonderful Thanksgiving break." To be treated with respect and warmth by my Administration is beyond description. I am truly thankful for that. Of course, I'm very grateful for family, friends, health, job, pets,and much more, but somehow, that moment in the hallway meant the world to me.

One year later....

It was a year ago last Friday, the 21st, that I started this blog. It's like having an in-house therapist. My brother's family always sends a Christmas newsletter of the family's doings for the past year. Well, this year, I'm going to compose one to them for the first time, now that I have a record of events. At this stage, life blurs by, so I can't remember the details of daily life six months or a year after they've happened, only the major occurrences.

Liberto's back is hurting almost all the time, and radiates around to the front. That's where we got the idea that it was a stomach ailment. That's been ruled out. He has another doctor's appointment tomorrow with the primary physician, to start the whole process over again. Spinal problems? Kidney problems? Hernia? Whatever it is, I hope the good doctor can send him to a specialist who can figure out the problem. He also broke a crown in August. I said, "No worries! I just signed on with Bryan County school system's dental insurance plan." (Our family motto: You can't have too much insurance!) But he timed the breaking of his crown just a little too early. The insurance did not begin until Oct. 1.

As we count down the last 17 school days, I have to admit that I am getting crabbier towards the students than I'd like to be. They seem to be getting increasingly restless and looking for diversion, viz a viz spit balls, facial signals across the room, punching someone's arm. Since I work hard trying to find projects that might capture their interest, I feel my crabbiness escalate in direct proportion to their waning interst. Imagine that! A 14-year-old who is more interested in conversing with a friend about make-up than hearing about literary devices! At the beginning of the school year at the faculty meeting, the principal reminded us all that the students "are 14 but think they're 25... you're the adult, so when they do stupid things, be the better person." He's right, but it's harder now than it was in August. Only 17 school days.

I hate to say it, but my dear husband is also crabby a lot these days, probably because of his pain. Understanding as I might be, I dislike being on the receiving end.

Yesterday, we cleaned out the guest room, creating piles for the landfill and for Goodwill. Isn't it horrifying how fast things pile up? You don't throw them away right away because they cost money and you might need them again. But finally you decide "That's it; if we need another one, we'll buy it." We culled much of the unwanted stuff. We drove to the landfill to dispose of it, and because we were in the vicinity, he suggested we stop at Wal-Mart to do the groceries. As we pulled in, the parking lot was so packed that the cars were backed up waiting for spaces. I suggested we skip it and come back later. I despise large crowds. I hate trying to push a buggy along stopping every two feet for bunches of people who are examining goods on shelves. He (crabbily) said we shouldn't waste an extra trip and gas to come back tomorrow! Once inside, it was hideously overcrowded. A few aisles later, his back began to hurt, and for the next hour, as we labored along through the crowds with the buggy, his face was a grimace. After Wal-Mart, we went to Publix because their t-bones are nice and the dog loves to chew the bones after we eat the steak. When we arrived home, P. put away the groceries, as always, L. sat down to relax, and I graded research papers.

I'm having lunch with Terry on Wednesday, which will be a nice outing. School is finished on Tuesday this week, and I have a five-day weekend. I'm ready for a girlfriend lunch, away from the house and the school. She's working on a fantastic book series, written through the point of view of one of her adopted dogs. I have a new creative project which I want to share with her, too.

Now I've got to go on-line and order a new power cord for the Toshiba. L is angry and says that it suddenly went dead when he was using it this afternoon because of the way P. uses the computer. He says P. twists the cord too much. I don't know for sure if that's why it's not working, but I'm more inclined to give P. the benefit of the doubt. Whenever something goes wrong with the computers, L. always concludes it's P's fault.

Starved for some fun reading, I started a new novel yesterday called Gone Tomorrow. I'm just at the scene where the College Provost has called the protagonist (a college professor) into the office to discuss his lack of publications and to ask for his voluntary resignation. But I can't continue because I have a stack of research papers and have to make sure there's a ton of activities ready for class tomorrow. I'm hooked and could finish the whole book this afternoon and evening if I had the time! It's pure torture to have to wait. 17 days...

Monday quick note

The weekend flew by. On Saturday, I went to my hairdresser for color and cut, which took an hour and a half because she usually juggles several clients at the same time, but I enjoy it because I read the trashy, gossipy rags ("BRAD IS CHEATING ON ANGIE WITH THE NANNY!")and am not grading or reading for class. Amazingly, I don't have any gray to cover yet, but I like to have the color goldened up a notch with partial foils of high and low lights. I was happy with the results of both the color and the style. Before and after the appointment, I re-read To Kill a Mockingbird to refresh my memory on it. The rest of the day was spent grading, reading, planning. I'll never catch up with all the work I've given them, but I have to keep them busy every second. That's my classroom management philosophy. But boy, am I counting the days until the end of the semester. After today, 21 school days to be exact.

On Sunday, we were driving home from the usual trip to Wal-Mart but had taken a back road. I spotted an eye-catching tree in a front yard. It was covered with lemons which weren't even half as huge as the lemons on our tree. That's when I got the idea of starting a lemon tree in the front yard. Wouldn't that be pretty when the lemons are ripe?

I spent the rest of Sunday grading and printing. I have my own nice printer at home, and though I don't have to print there, I like to have everything ready when I go in, and not have to count on the school printer, which might have a line. Of course, Paul and I watched Cold Case at 9:30 (pushed up because of a football game, I guess.) Tonight, I'll have to read a pile of student's rough drafts of the research paper, worth 50 points out of the total 300 points.

Our wonderful President-Elect and wife were on Sixty Minutes last night, which I watched with half an eye while grading. I can't remember the interviewer's name, but he jokingly har-harred about how the Obamas would have to get used to their new puppy in the White House at the same time as they'd be getting used to having the Mother-in-Law there. It sounded so old-man-of-the fifties-chauvinistic women-are-bitches humor. But Barack rose a few more notches in my esteem when he replied smoothly, with an unruffled smile, "I'm not going to compare my mother-in-law with a dog" and went on to say how much he appreciated the time and hard work she'd devoted to the family during the campaign. It was a perfect response to deflect the interviewer's attempt to do a mother-in-law joke at the expense of the First Mother-in-Law. I wanted to shout, "YOU GO, Barack!"

My favorite night of the week

The cat's winter coat is unusually thick and glossy, and I wonder if this is the result of his thyroid medicine or a predictor of a cooler-than-usual winter. If animals have strong enough sensory equipment to forecast epileptic seizures half an hour before they happen and sniff out cancer, even in patients in remission, they may certainly also be tuned into atmospheric events.


I'm so glad it's Friday. I'm worn out. I'm ready for Thanksgiving break, Christmas break, next summer's vacation, retirement! Not to complain. With the current economy, I'm grateful every day to have a job, especially a job that I really like. But it's been over three months of non-stop planning, grading, and teaching, so I crave a few days of total immersion in anything BUT student-related stuff.


Liberto still complains of a pain even though the colonoscopy and biopsy showed nothing wrong in his intestines. He finally has two doctor appointments at the end of next week. It's frustrating for him to go through these various tests and turn up nothing and still have the pain. Sometimes it's mild and other times worse, but it's always there. The frustration of navigating through the medical world is painful in itself.


Nothing unusual to report from this past week. Right now, I'm too tired to have any opinion about anything on the news. But one bit of good news is that my retirement account from GSU, though nothing to write home about, at least has not lost 1/3 of its value after all. Summer before last, I had a premonition that the market was headed for a plunge, so I arranged for the Interlock option AIG offered and locked the account in at that amount. This option meant I'd be guaranteed to have no lower than the lock-in amount to draw from when the time comes, and if the market performs, could have more, but no lower than that figure from that date. Since we had a day off on Tuesday, I had the chance to call the new account manager to confirm that what I had signed up for was what I thought I would get---with this rotten economy, I'd had visions that something in the fine print would nullify everything---but surprisingly, the contract still stands. By the way, the AIG representative who did the paperwork for me that summer of 2007, who can't be more than 35 years old, is now retired in Florida, the new rep tells me. Managing retirement accounts for teachers must be a helluva lucrative gig!

Autumn beauty

Last week, driving along the highway, I noticed that the trees had turned. The change always seems to happen suddenly. One day they're green, and the next they've become yellow, burgundy, and burnt orange. Very soft colors, not the flamboyant foliages of my northern childhoods. The temperature has been perfect too; cool in the morning, up to 70 at the peak. The moon is full tonight, and was beginning to glow as I drove home at 5 o'clock. There's no school tomorrow because of Veteran's Day. I will spend most of the day grading.

At the school's Veteran's Day assembly this morning, I thought of Dad, of course. While the school band played patriotic songs, and the school color guard performed, I couldn't help but remember the photos of young, handsome Dad smiling in his Army uniform circa 1945. He was a mere boy, younger than my own youngest son, when he was drafted out of college and shipped over to Italy to fight a world war. The very thought of shipping a son off to a major war is heartwrenching, yet millions of mothers across the world and over the centuries have done just that, including my grandmother who sent two sons off to World War II. How she could bear the fear and uncertainty, I have no idea. She was one of the lucky mothers; they both survived. I remember Dad's stories of how the Italian natives---just as effusive and vivacious as Hispanics are, no doubt---would come running out to greet the American soldiers with shouts of joy and flowers. I also remember Dad's stories about patrolling at night. If I remember this right, some unique tribe of Eastern Indians was working with the Allies. They were extremely tall, wore turbans, and were very violent. Each night, the American solders were informed of a secret password they would need to utter if they ever encountered one of these Indians at night, so the latter wouldn't mistake them for the enemy. The password one night was "Gravel Gertie," recalled Dad. He did indeed cross paths with one of those Indians--wish I could remember the specific name of the tribe. I'll have to research that. Now it was time to say the password before the tall guy pulled out his knife and asked questions later. Dad remembered how his teeth and jaw chattered as he spat out "G-g-g-g-g-ravel G-g-g-gertie!"

After the war, after marrying my mother, he went to medical school on the G.I. bill. He apparently had to be affiliated with the Army for awhile even after finishing at McGill. When I was three, we moved to Tacoma, Washington, and lived on what I think was a military base. I remember a photo of the front door, with the sign "First Lt. Agnew" painted on it. I remember other men in Army uniforms. He must have been affiliated in some medical way, or have been receiving medical experience. Photos show my mother and groups of other mothers sitting on the lawns together with all the children nearby. I even remember the inside of that teeny little house, connected to all the other teeny houses in a giant square, with a courtyard of sorts in the back. I remember riding my tricycle on the sidewalk in the back.

Yep, Dad was with me today during that Assembly.

Moving on to other subjects. . . how about Obama's victory? How happy we are that he won! We're overjoyed! This country needs a fresh leader with guts and VISION who is not afraid to throw off the yoke of tired Republican policies of the past eight years and forge ahead with plans for healing. Today I showed the classes a United Streaming film about the Great Depression, which is the setting for To Kill a Mockingbird. It was chilling to be reminded of the similarities between the Great Depression and the current economic crisis: both events were preceded by prosperity, stock market climbs, a strong housing market, widespread over-spending and over-extension, hands-off government approach to regulation, and support for big business, then BOOM! Stock market crash, job loss, foreclosures, and bank failures and the huge ripple effect that destroyed the economy. When the film described Hoover's laissez faire approach to the economic problems and his idea of bringing about recovery by giving money to businesses, not individuals, it reminded me big-time of Bush and the current Congress. (Yes, of course, let's bail out AIG, whose CEO's get bonuses higher than the total income of Georgia. Here's an idea that's been going around the internet: take the bail-out package, divide it up among the population of America, and send each citizen a check. Someone calculated that it would come to $200,000 each. Now there's a stimulus package!) The film described the election of dynamic FDR, who took charge right away and came up with program after program after program to assuage the pain of the Depression. Obama is the new FDR.
While shopping this weekend, we saw his smiling face, along with Michelle's, on just about every magazine cover on the rack. It fills me with joy.