A Letter to Senator Sinema

I appreciate your support on voting rights.

But you know, and I know, that denying the opportunity to check the power of the filibuster, voting rights will never pass in the present Senate, because of GOP obstructionism.

You know this to be true, so does America, and so do your Republican colleagues, who thank their lucky stars for you.

So, I beg you to reconsider the filibuster - it's a device devised by those who would use their minority status to stymie the progress and hope of the nation. It's been a tool of the South, and you know that, too. A tool to prevent any reform in civil rights.

The filibuster is a remnant of another age, a worn-out tool that has long since proved useless.

With one exception - if it could be restored to its original practice, of compelling a senator to take the floor and speak for hours upon hours, making a fool of himself,(or herself, these days), and letting the nation realize how foolish the speaker is.

The Senate needs to free itself from the dictatorship, the tyranny, of reactionary forces. Should the character of the Senate change, there might be a time when I regret my words, but in reality, I'd learn the lesson of politics - tides change, and to support a device that allows a disgruntled few to dominate the Senate cripples the nation, whether the Senate be under GOP or Democratic domination.

I hope, no, I beg you to support your President, my President, in the effort to send the filibuster to the neighborhood antique shop, and getting voting rights passed in the US Senate, for the sake of America.

Sincerely,


The Rev. Dr. Tom Eggebeen
Pasadena, CA

American Attitudes on "Blood" - Indigenous and Black

 New England’s own regional twist on the national racial idiom of Manifest Destiny. It held that Indian “blood” was weaker than that of other races, meaning that the child of an Indian and a non-Indian became a “half-blood,” the child of that “half-blood” and another non-Indian became a “quarter-blood,” and then, eventually, all trace of the Indian vanished, which is precisely what whites who coveted Indian land wanted to happen. By contrast, white Americans thought of black blood as polluting, so that any degree of African descent made one black. It was not coincidental that such a formulation expanded the servile black labor pool to the benefit of white people. In other words, whites’ inconsistencies in reckoning Indian and black racial identities were not illogical at all. They were entirely in line with white colonial desires.

Silverman, David J.. This Land Is Their Land (p. 400). Bloomsbury Publishing. Kindle Edition. 

Socialism in the Midwest - from Sinclair Lewis' "Main Street"

 From Chapter 4, "Main Street," by Sinclair Lewis ... 1920

Carol Milford, the new Mrs. Dr. Will Kennicott, at a party of the town's significant class, asks:

“There hasn't been much labor trouble around here, has there, Mr. Stowbody?” she asked innocently.

“No, ma'am, thank God, we've been free from that, except maybe with hired girls and farm-hands. Trouble enough with these foreign farmers; if you don't watch these Swedes they turn socialist or populist or some fool thing on you in a minute. Of course, if they have loans you can make 'em listen to reason. I just have 'em come into the bank for a talk, and tell 'em a few things. I don't mind their being democrats, so much, but I won't stand having socialists around. But thank God, we ain't got the labor trouble they have in these cities. Even Jack Elder here gets along pretty well, in the planing-mill, don't you, Jack?”

“Yep. Sure. Don't need so many skilled workmen in my place, and it's a lot of these cranky, wage-hogging, half-baked skilled mechanics that start trouble—reading a lot of this anarchist literature and union papers and all.”

“Do you approve of union labor?” Carol inquired of Mr. Elder.

“Me? I should say not! It's like this: I don't mind dealing with my men if they think they've got any grievances—though Lord knows what's come over workmen, nowadays—don't appreciate a good job. But still, if they come to me honestly, as man to man, I'll talk things over with them. But I'm not going to have any outsider, any of these walking delegates, or whatever fancy names they call themselves now—bunch of rich grafters, living on the ignorant workmen! Not going to have any of those fellows butting in and telling ME how to run MY business!”

Mr. Elder was growing more excited, more belligerent and patriotic. “I stand for freedom and constitutional rights. If any man don't like my shop, he can get up and git. Same way, if I don't like him, he gits. And that's all there is to it. I simply can't understand all these complications and hoop-te-doodles and government reports and wage-scales and God knows what all that these fellows are balling up the labor situation with, when it's all perfectly simple. They like what I pay 'em, or they get out. That's all there is to it!”

“What do you think of profit-sharing?” Carol ventured.

Mr. Elder thundered his answer, while the others nodded, solemnly and in tune, like a shop-window of flexible toys, comic mandarins and judges and ducks and clowns, set quivering by a breeze from the open door:

“All this profit-sharing and welfare work and insurance and old-age pension is simply poppycock. Enfeebles a workman's independence—and wastes a lot of honest profit. The half-baked thinker that isn't dry behind the ears yet, and these suffragettes and God knows what all buttinskis there are that are trying to tell a business man how to run his business, and some of these college professors are just about as bad, the whole kit and bilin' of 'em are nothing in God's world but socialism in disguise! And it's my bounden duty as a producer to resist every attack on the integrity of American industry to the last ditch. Yes—SIR!”

Mr. Elder wiped his brow.

Dave Dyer added, “Sure! You bet! What they ought to do is simply to hang every one of these agitators, and that would settle the whole thing right off. Don't you think so, doc?”

“You bet,” agreed Kennicott.

Why Do I Care???

I share the work of Dr Heather Cox Richardson, because I happen to care about the welfare of my nation. 

And why do I care?

I suppose a lot of reasons, but at the base of my life, a singular reason, my Christian Faith ... a faith that strives for honesty and thrives on the truth of whatever matter may present itself ... from the proper temperature of a stainless steel pan for searing a steak in butter, or the Jan. 6 Insurrection ... not that these two events are of the same magnitude, but both require truth ... an improperly heated pan will result in a ruined steak, and ignoring the skullduggery of the GOP will only add to their effort to reshape this nation as it was in the Antebellum South.

With this conviction: that religion, Christian, Jewish, or Hindu, thrives best of all in an environment of honesty and truth, a Democratic environment of equality, respect, and opportunity. 

Religion never thrives in an autocracy - if it cooperates, it soon takes on the meanness of spirit inherent in an illiberal form of government. If it resists, it suffers - sure, it'll survive as Christianity did in the Eastern Bloc nations, but I'm not talking about bare survival; I'm hoping for an environment in which people of any faith or philosophy will be able to engage with their faith in freedom, and will be able to practice the tenants of their faith without fear, yet with restraint, lest religious fervor warp the believer into a totalitarian view of things, "my way or the highway," at attitude always possible in any form of faith or philosophy. 

So, my thoughts on all of this, my regard for a truth-teller like Dr. Richardson, my support of the Jan. 6 House Committee, are finally and fundamentally driven by my faith in Christ.

You probably already knew that, but I felt the need to say it again this morning.

To all who read this, God's Peace - not the peace of some soporific, but the peace of engagement, truth, and, sacrifice, in the service of neighbor-love. And those who serve the neighbor serve God at the very same time.

Evangelicals and a Divided Nation

 Evangelical churches have played an imposing role in the dividing of the nation; the notion of sharp division between the "believer" and the hell-bound "enemy," being a bedrock belief and a daily practice.

The evangelical world has always been deficient on its identity, knowing far less of who they are, and what they believe (their world often characterized by acrimonious debate and bitter accusations of heresy) - so comparisons came to play a central role.

"We may not know who we are, but we sure as hell know who the unbelievers are."

These thoughts have played a tragic role in the history of our nation: from the Pilgrims killing their indigenous neighbors, setting the pace for America to America's enslavement of persons of color. And these days, "the virtuous rich" and the "deserving poor" - those whom "God has blessed because of their righteousness," and those whom God damns because of their sloth and immorality, including all who mess with the binary structure of man/woman gender, and "the American Way."

For any of us, for me, it's easier to look at others and see what's missing. So, it's vital that we use our ears and eyes to note what others might say about us. We always have things to learn.

And then do the hard work of study, reflection, and prayer, to gain some clarity as to who we are, what counts, and then, most importantly, to put aside the need for a final clarity, to engage in the practical works of justice, peace, equality, fairness, and welcome.

We all know what such words look like, and feel like. They are the words of open doors, and open windows - words that take seriously the needs of others. Words that offer hope, and a promise that together we'll make this land a land of opportunity for all, that we'll address our failings, that we'll build a nation wherein every citizen is recognized and supported, refugees welcomed, the health choices of women affirmed, and marriage equality supported.

All the best to each of you, dear family and friends. Be of good cheer, pay attention to the world, know when to take a deep breath and step back, and when to take a deep breath and step forward!

Ode to Mashed Potatoes

An Ode to Mashed Potatoes …

Let me count the ways I love thee …

The common tator … a tuber … from the ground …

Just like you and me …

Maybe we feel something in common with this common ground thing …

They’re not picked, like apples or pears …

They’re dug …

Like good music … or hangin’ out with folks we love …

Lots of different sizes … and colors … in a lot of different places …

We do have a lot in common, don’t we?

With the humble potato …

Peel ‘em … if ya’ want …

But I like to leave the skins on* …

Adds texture … as it should be … the whole potato …

As God intended.

 

Into a pot of water …

Turn on the heat … lots of good things need a little heat …

Cook ‘em not too hard … 

Test ‘em with a fork …

Drain ‘em and put ‘em back into the pot …

And now the good part …

A couple of butter chunks … 

A generous splash of cream … I mean: be generous …

Maybe even some cream cheese …

A little horseradish?

Rosemary?

Thyme?

Salt and pepper …

And a little elbow grease …

Smash and mash these remarkable gifts from God …

Not too much, just enough …

To blend it all together …

Taste to your heart’s content …

That’s what I love about cooking …

We get to sample everything before you do.

Can it get better?

You bet … 

On the plate they go …

A fork-full will satisfy all your desires for comfort …

Just like home … 

But like all good things … these good things go well 

With a chorus of other good things ….

Gravy … 

Giblet gravy …

Corn and slabs of carefully sliced turkey, neat and precise … though I prefer the dark meat … a tad bit unruly …

Cranberry relish on the side …

And how about the country cousin, the sweet potato … with its famous hat, 

The marshmallow … all white on the inside, with golden trim …

And who knows what else … 

Start with potatoes, and who knows where it’ll end.

But start with potatoes … 

A very common thing …

And it will end well …

As all good things do …

Happy Thanksgiving …

*skin on with Yukon Gold, but Russets need a good peeling.

© Tom Eggebeen, Los Angeles

Don't Give Up Dear Friends!

That anyone would still support #tfg reveals a misalingment of character, so thorough and complete, as to defy my imagination.

At the every least, Republicans should be shaking their heads in bewilderment, even hanging their heads in shame; but, no, they continue to line up behind the monstrosity, bless his bluster, spin the Big Lie, and hamstring the nation. 

Why not just rename the GOP, the ANP, the American Nazi Party; wear the Brown Shirts and strut around the halls of Congress with jackboots. 

These are not nice people; I visit some hardcore Republican fb pages to take a peek, and evangelicals to boot, and come away sorrowful, in need of a hot shower and a thorough scrub with carbolic soap. There is no thoughtfulness, but only hatred. There is no compassion, but a lot of je-e-sus jabber. 

All of this renews my own efforts to:

1) stay informed with reliable writers who have taken up the apostolic mantle of truth-telling; 

2) keep in mind my own faith-commitments, and why I believe them to be true, and how they sustain me in the face of diabolical lies and disinformation;, 

3) remain prayerful, that strange and mysterious element wherein a single human being realizes the great host of witnesses that numinously live within and without, conveying the light of the universe, from its very origins, to these moments wherein women and men of conscience, and soul, struggle to find the way; 

4) refuse the easy way of ideology and remaining steadfast in using the gifts of The Creator - the mind and the heart - to think, ponder, consider, weigh up the claims and options, and then decide on behalf of things that seem right and just, kind and merciful, good for the nation, for the world, for the soul.

Don't give up, dear friends ... now, more than ever:

𝑂𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑚𝑎𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛
𝐶𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑑𝑒,
𝐼𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑓𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑡ℎ 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑓𝑎𝑙𝑠𝑒ℎ𝑜𝑜𝑑,
𝐹𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑜𝑟 𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑙 𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒;
𝑆𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡 𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒, 𝐺𝑜𝑑'𝑠 𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑀𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑎ℎ,
𝑂𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑚 𝑜𝑟 𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡,
𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑏𝑦 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟
𝑇𝑤𝑖𝑥𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡.