Halloween - three days until the election.

 

Halloween - three days until the election.

I don't know if the founding fathers thought about Halloween preceding Election Day. Each year, though, it does seem a scarier and scarier idea to think about where the country is headed

Biden is still up in almost all polls, some beyond the margin of error. Most Democrats still remember that Clinton was also up at this point in 2016. She lost. No one is gloating or overly optimistic.

I have no idea who will win and any prediction I make is fruitless. Nate Silverman’s 538 group says it's likely Biden and Democrats controlling both chambers of Congress. 

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The Judiciary Act of 1869 established the current nine seats of the Supreme Court. At the time, the judicial system in the country consisted of nine judicial circuits. Prior to this the number of Supreme Court Justices changed six times, before settling on the current number.

The Evarts Act of 1891 expanded the circuits to twelve. There are currently 13 circuit courts.

In short, over time, the court system has changed and the number of Supreme Court justices has also changed.

Congress has the ability to change how the courts are run and how many judges may be necessary. 

I have no problem with expanding the court to match the number of circuits.

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Cool October air, brisk as the leaves that crunch beneath my feet as I walk the lonely tracks of commuter trains. 

That has absolutely nothing to do with three days before an election. Just wanted to remember the image and sounds I saw this morning.

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My wife is listening to a recording of the Wankmaggot at a recent rally. Other than his usual nonsense and lies, he sounds very tired.

Some words without a melody and an old baseball rant.

Four days before the election, and today I haven't paid much attention to the news other than knowing that the stock market was down and the virus was still raging. Some words came during a walk today. I'm bad with melodies.

It will be a joyful noise 

When we gather together 

Again

Let us make a joyful noise

Men and women

Girls and boys 

When we can gather

Together

Again

Though we are now apart

We hold each other in our hearts

Let us just start

Thinking of when we gather 

Together again

Make a joyful sound

Let us gather round

Tune up those old guitars

Pull out the old banjo

Rosin up your bow

For base and fiddle too

Yeah let us make some noise

Have  drink or two

Cuz it’s time when we gather

Together 

Again

Maybe in the spring

Voices and music will ring

Maybe the warmer weather

And we can gather together again.

Let is pray dare I say

For better days and better ways

When we can gather

Together

Again

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Sometimes I go back and reread previous posts. Sometimes I have  to revise because it is missing a picture or some other object that I linked to and which no longer exists. I did that with this one today. The original link was gone. For some reason of other I found that I had saved the video on my own youtube page. It’s a great baseball rivalry rant for which I take no credit.

Woody, Pete, searching the mail, and finding blues

It's five days until the election.

I got an email today from the National Archives. They announced a new collection of films. I went to their site. They do have a ton of neat, if arcane, stuff that the average citizen can access. 

The first video I looked at was from a factory, and I thought of perhaps using a clip from it in one of Wattle & Daub’s songs. 

Just out of curiosity I searched for Woody Guthrie. He was tagged in another of the collection of films that the email referenced. I wish it had sound. Oddly enough, this clip also had Pete Seeger playing banjo at a square dance. And in the middle of the clip was the blues duo of Sonny Terry and Brownie McGee. They were much younger than when they appeared on the BBC in 1974.

The Archives also contain criminal cases. In my search for Woody, one file from August, 1949 was the case of “United States of America v. Woodrow Wilson Guthrie.” You can download the entire court proceedings here. In short, Woody was charged with three counts of using the Postal Service for mailing a handwritten letter that was considered to be “obscene, lewd, and lascivious.” 

In other words, Woody, who was known for being something of a horndog, got busted for writing a dirty letter. 

I kinda wish the file included a copy of the letter. Still, it does beg the question of how the government knew that he sent such a letter in the first place. I suppose we must remember that this was the time of post World War 2 and Joe McCarthy and suspicion of guys like Woody and Pete Seeger or anybody who questions the status quo. Seems sometimes that some people would like to go back to those days.

Speaking of Pete, I ran across this quote from him today:

“I think one of the biggest tragedies in America is that large numbers of people believe elections don't matter…because if you're not voting, you're not fulfilling the hopes of your own grandparents and great-grandparents who struggled and gave their lives so that we could have the right to vote. Go push that lever down––and let people know you're alive!”

This election is proof of that urgency. Pete wants you to vote. Don’t let your ancestors down.

Vote, Dammit!

 October 28 - six days to go until the election.

Some pundits claim this is the most important election of our lives. I’ve heard that line before, I’m sure. 

I already voted, but I keep reminding myself that since I’ve started voting, I have voted for the loser more than the winner, not only for President, but also for Senators and representatives. 

I know several people who are either not voting or have said they will cast a ballot for a third party or write in somebody.

This year to me the choice is clear. Saying things like “they’re all the same” or “they all lie” are just excuses. Some people will believe any wild-assed claim made about the candidates. These claims are based on conspiracy theories or unverified or discredited stories. 

Enough. Pick a side. It might be the wrong choice for the country, but it is your choice. Voting third party or writing in somebody is a failure and denial of your franchise rights. Stop it.

You have to decide. I don’t know if this is the most important election of our lives. I think every election is important to me now. But you have to decide.

Pete Seeger, Ani DiFranco, Billy Bragg and others ask you. What's your answer?

Some words, maybe in search of melody or meaning

 These days it’s easy to be worrying

But I ain’t gonna let it be burying me

These days

And I know it may sound a little sappy

But I never thought i could be so happy as

These days

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The first October snow is stinging on the face

But there is no trace

On the ground. Too warm to stick around

But the grey skies of November and beyond 

Are coming and none are fond

Of the darker days and colder nights

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When the first snow covers the nests 

Of spring left as their builders have gone to rest

In warmer climes and better times, 

I go, too, in my aging mind to think

To think of words to say

And rambling rambling on another day.

She is in the living room giving lessons

To the young and eager to share in her joy

And praise and hope for better days 

As I am alone here listening still 

Searching for ways and will to do more

And learn myself.

She makes me better and for that I am grateful

Happy to say she is the woman on my dreams

Whenever someone asks how I am

In this married life in these pandemic dreams.

I remember lost family and friends 

But do not wallow in sorrow

It does no good

They would tell me, if they could

John Prine says in one of his last songs about going to heaven that he would meet up with his mom’s sisters cuz that’s where all the love is. He’s right. I remember my own mom and her  sisters, Elizabeth and Violet. My mom was Pearl. The story goes that Grandpa Frank wanted his daughters to be named after a queen, and flower and a jewel. Yep. Prine was right. The love started with those three women. Might be a Midwest Illinois thing, but I suspect a lot of families and the women in them are the same around the world. I could see it on Cathie’s sisters a little bit. I can see it in Susan’s daughters. One of them is having a baby soon, and I hope that kid will see it in his or her aunts, too.

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I am hopeful about the election, but nervous. I already voted. I am hopeful that the Democrats keep the House, and take the Senate and White House, but nervous.

I am honestly worried what will happen if Trump wins again and more worried if the GOP keeps the Senate.

It never used to be this way in the country. Yes, the two parties would disagree, but eventually cold come to some sort of compromise for the good on the country. Now the GOP takes great glee in their ability to ram through a Supreme Court pick and great glee in giving huge tax cuts to the rich and suppressing the vote as much as possible.

People have to keep fighting, keep voting, keep pushing to make things better for all people, all races, all religions. Yes that means making sure the wealth in this country does not continue to rest in the bank accounts of a few privileged white folks. Yeah, that means you Warren Buffet and Jeff Bezos and Bill Gates.

About Damn Time.

No. Today I am not writing about the Tangerine Wankmaggot, Donald Trump. Nor am I going to discuss the student of whom I am most ashamed in my 35 year teaching career, Wisconsin State Assemblyman Robin Vos.

No. I’m putting down these words about the church I was raised in and, though I now regularly attend a small Episcopal church in Illinois, still holds some of my allegiance and some good memories.

Sister Mary Delores taught us about sin. She was a tiny woman. In today’s world, I am reminded of Shakespeare’s Hermia in A Midsummer Night’s Dream: ”Though she be but little she is fierce.” That was sister Delores. 

She valiantly taught us everything that we supposedly needed to know in grade school. Bad behavior brought out her ruler of justice and punishment, but she seldom needed to resort to it. When it came to teaching us morals and right and wrong, she excelled with visual learning.

Sister Delores wore the traditional Franciscan habit: the long black tunic and veil, the stark white coif, cap and wimple, the sash, and rosary. One day in class, she pointed to her wimple and said, “This is your soul.” Then she reached behind her and picked up an open bottle of ink from her desk and poured it on her wimple. She then said, “This is your soul when you sin.”

Where Sister Delores taught us visually, Father Andy Kloska the associate pastor of the parish preferred a more logical approach to sin. Some priests lectured when I went to confession, the “you are so going to hell if you do that again” approach. One priest, regardless of the sin, always asked, “Are you married, my child?” It didn’t matter what I told him for my sins that week.

Father Kloska was different in a way that still makes sense to me. After hearing whatever sins I had supposedly committed and thereby wronged all humanity in the eyes of God, Father Kloska simply said, “Don’t do that. You’re not supposed to.” Logic that today is still applicable to almost all my daily actions. 

So, my primary school education had a lot to do with who I became and who I am today. The church has always been slow to change. So have I sometimes. Like the church, I was, for a long time, opposed to gay marriage. Then I met John and Lou.

My sister lived in Greenwich Village, a home for many in the LGTB community. She belonged to the Episcopal parish, “St. John’s in the Village.” It’s pastor was a gay man and the parish community helped the spiritual needs of many in the community.

I met John because he was a coworker of my sister. I got to know his partner Lou later during a visit to my sister. Lou was an old Navy man, complete with sailor language and an anchor tattoo. John was more business like. Neither was the stereotype of a gay man.

They were together in a monogamous relationship for more than thirty years. They were committed to each other. They loved each other. I was committed to my first wife for that same time. We loved each other. The difference was only that my union was recognized by church and state.

I had to ask myself, “Isn’t love and commitment what a marriage is supposed to be about?” I came to the obvious conclusion and knew that, according to Catholicism and most religions, black ink was damaging my personal wimple.

Change may be slow, but sometimes it’s just time. The Church took 400 years to forgive Galileo for saying that the Earth spins and moves around the Sun. It only took 100 years to forgive Oscar Wilde for his homosexuality. There is improvement.

Today Pope Francis, head of the Roman Catholic Church,  endorsed same sex marriage, at least through civil unions.

It’s a baby step. In the right direction. It’s about damn time