And why not? We must have ambitions, dreams, goals. Right?
Well, this year, I felt the need for better resolutions. This was a direct result of the improbable, illogical, and insane election of the Great Orange Monkeyman from Queens as our President. First off, he lost the popular vote by almost three million. Second, he publicly made fun of a man with handicaps- which is what I believe is called a "dick move". Third, this bully either doesn't believe in global warming, which makes him a moron, or doesn't give a shit about it, which makes him an asshole.
Fourth- he objectifies women, treats them with contempt and what seems like anger. Like toys who he can "grab by the pussy". Again, dick move.
What is his problem? My mother was a woman. My wife is a woman. Over half the world population is made of women. And he treats them like shit. He really does.
So I resolved to be more actively involved in what is happening in my community, my country, and my world.
First big step- I went to the Women's March in D.C. with my wife Lisa this past week end.
And it was beautiful, inspiring, magic, crazy- the list of adjectives needed to described this monumental event is far too long to put on this page. I have been to a lot of pretty big events in my life. I was in Santa Barbara during the Rodney King riots. I lived in NYC during 9/11, the black out of 2002, and the RNC of 2004. I saw Obama speak in Denver in a crowd whose estimated size was over a million. And Saturday, I took part in the largest demonstration in the history of our nation.
We met so many kind, funny, concerned citizens from all over the country. A woman from Florida, a pair of ladies from Boston. A punk rock violinist from Minneapolis. Everywhere we have been, from Friday to today, the atmosphere has been both electrified but kind- like that perfect party where everyone is having a great time, nobody wants to leave, and all the music they play makes you want to dance.
And the Pussy Hats. All over the place. Pink, Purple, Orange. Fuzzy and freaky, some with whiskers, some with ears. All of them made by hand. Lisa made three: one for her son Ryan, one for me, and one for herself. They are the three coolest hats ever made. I wore mine with pride, and plan to continue to wear it for at least the next four years.
We stayed at an Air B&B near 14th Street and S street. On the day of the march, we decided to walk, as the Metro was full to bursting. Walking was a great choice. As we made our way towards the Mall, more and more people filled the streets- a sea of women, many in pussy hats, leading us forward. The walk took over half an hour, and by the time we got to the Mall, it was a full on crowd- although the word "crowd" does not suffice. It felt like when you were in high school and went to one of those super concerts where five bands played. Everyone excited, distant roars of the already gigantic event echoing through the streets. Everywhere you look, people who are smiling- at each other and at you. So much love and hope and determination.
When we got to the mall, I ran into this woman. She was 94, and had a sign on her shirt proclaiming her age, and her religion, which was Quaker. I told her my mother was a Quaker too, and she looked me right in the eye, and asked me if my mother raised me well. Something about that hit me right in the gut. I don't know why, but it made me have to try very hard not to cry.
We moved on. We raised our voices in joy, and also in anger. We flipped the bird at the new hotel owned by the Orange Monkeyman when we marched past it later in the day. We took part in something greater than ourselves.
And this is just the beginning. There will be more marches. More protest. More change. People are fired up, ready to go.
More to come. I am resolved.
Well, this year, I felt the need for better resolutions. This was a direct result of the improbable, illogical, and insane election of the Great Orange Monkeyman from Queens as our President. First off, he lost the popular vote by almost three million. Second, he publicly made fun of a man with handicaps- which is what I believe is called a "dick move". Third, this bully either doesn't believe in global warming, which makes him a moron, or doesn't give a shit about it, which makes him an asshole.
Fourth- he objectifies women, treats them with contempt and what seems like anger. Like toys who he can "grab by the pussy". Again, dick move.
What is his problem? My mother was a woman. My wife is a woman. Over half the world population is made of women. And he treats them like shit. He really does.
So I resolved to be more actively involved in what is happening in my community, my country, and my world.
First big step- I went to the Women's March in D.C. with my wife Lisa this past week end.
And it was beautiful, inspiring, magic, crazy- the list of adjectives needed to described this monumental event is far too long to put on this page. I have been to a lot of pretty big events in my life. I was in Santa Barbara during the Rodney King riots. I lived in NYC during 9/11, the black out of 2002, and the RNC of 2004. I saw Obama speak in Denver in a crowd whose estimated size was over a million. And Saturday, I took part in the largest demonstration in the history of our nation.
We met so many kind, funny, concerned citizens from all over the country. A woman from Florida, a pair of ladies from Boston. A punk rock violinist from Minneapolis. Everywhere we have been, from Friday to today, the atmosphere has been both electrified but kind- like that perfect party where everyone is having a great time, nobody wants to leave, and all the music they play makes you want to dance.
And the Pussy Hats. All over the place. Pink, Purple, Orange. Fuzzy and freaky, some with whiskers, some with ears. All of them made by hand. Lisa made three: one for her son Ryan, one for me, and one for herself. They are the three coolest hats ever made. I wore mine with pride, and plan to continue to wear it for at least the next four years.
We stayed at an Air B&B near 14th Street and S street. On the day of the march, we decided to walk, as the Metro was full to bursting. Walking was a great choice. As we made our way towards the Mall, more and more people filled the streets- a sea of women, many in pussy hats, leading us forward. The walk took over half an hour, and by the time we got to the Mall, it was a full on crowd- although the word "crowd" does not suffice. It felt like when you were in high school and went to one of those super concerts where five bands played. Everyone excited, distant roars of the already gigantic event echoing through the streets. Everywhere you look, people who are smiling- at each other and at you. So much love and hope and determination.When we got to the mall, I ran into this woman. She was 94, and had a sign on her shirt proclaiming her age, and her religion, which was Quaker. I told her my mother was a Quaker too, and she looked me right in the eye, and asked me if my mother raised me well. Something about that hit me right in the gut. I don't know why, but it made me have to try very hard not to cry.
We moved on. We raised our voices in joy, and also in anger. We flipped the bird at the new hotel owned by the Orange Monkeyman when we marched past it later in the day. We took part in something greater than ourselves.
And this is just the beginning. There will be more marches. More protest. More change. People are fired up, ready to go.
More to come. I am resolved.
