Category Archives: COMMENTARY

March 20, 2013 · 4:37 pm

Justice and Mercy,by Louise Annarino,March 20,2013

Justice and Mercy, By Louise Annarino,March 20,2013

 

Two words seem to define the response to the rape of a teen-age girl by teen-age boys in Steubenville,Ohio: fear and loathing. I am aware of the crime itself and the ancillary threats,denials,cover-ups,and diverse opinions expressed by the public and news media.I heard the apologies of those convicted and the statement made by the victim’s mother. The hate expressed against the rape victim and her defenders, and that expressed against the perpetrators and their defenders leave me saddened and dismayed. Having experienced sexual assault as a young woman, and lived with nightmares and flashbacks since, my heart bleeds for the victim in this case and for all women. We women face objectification and sexism daily. However,I suggest we put aside our fear and loathing and reflect upon two other words: justice and mercy.

 

Blindfolded Lady Law holds a set of scales,but not merely to weigh evidence. Those two plates on the scale also represent justice and mercy. When judges apply the law they must provide justice for all parties, and mercy for all parties.

 

As a prison social worker I worked with inmates who had committed truly heinous crimes,and some less appalling. By serving a sentence of incarceration justice was served. By participating in rehabilitation,mercy was applied. As a social worker,I sought to balance the two, as Lady Justice personifies. When I later became an attorney, I continued to seek justice and mercy for my clients. Only when justice is balanced with mercy do we create peace,for each victim, for each perpetrator, and for our entire community.

 

It is impossible to overestimate the value of balance. After any sports injury, surgery or illness; when planting a garden or teaching new ideas; while painting a picture or building a fence, the first thing one does is find and then maintain balance. Whether working to create a just society, a rehabilitation program,or a federal budget we must strive for balance. Justice and mercy. Both are essential.

 

All boys and young men,all girls and young women are in desperate need of our protection and guidance. We cannot expect a child born in poverty, or awash in the acid drip of discrimination,or subject to the benign neglect of overworked parents to stand strong against the sexually derogatory messages  in their dress-language-social media-music-movies-television-gaming. We think because boys and girls talk,dress and act out adult behavior that they are mature. They are still children. They make stupid and harmful decisions. This fact is more readily acknowledged for boys who are white, athletes or scholars than boys who are sagging and hanging on a corner. Too often our latent racism blinds our reality. Boys carrying guns in gangs are still boys. Girls exploring their sexuality are still girls. How can we expect our children to show self-respect when we adults show them so little respect?

 

Decisions made by boys and girls have consequences; often,adult consequences. Facing the consequences of one’s actions is just. Caring for those facing consequences they never imagined in their young minds and hearts is merciful. Mercy does not condone sexually objectifying girls and women; but, it may provide a means to address the problem. Let us respect our children by paying attention to their needs, and being willing to pay the cost. How can we expect our children to deny their self-gratification when we are unwilling to sacrifice our own?

 

 

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February 22, 2013 · 1:51 pm

Will Tribalism Trump Citizenship?

Will Tribalism Trump Citizenship? By Louise Annarino,2-22-2013

 

My Mother’s side of the family is planning our first ever family reunion. That this is happening during a time when I am wrestling with the differences between being part of a tribe or being a citizen of a nation indicates the synchronicity which operates throughout the multiverse. What does it mean to be part of a tribe? What does it mean to be a citizen?

 

My first struggle for identity was between two tribes: my Father’s and my Mother’s. Was I Sicilian like Dad; or,Napolitan like Mom? “Half and half” Mom explained. In our house we referrred to two other larger tribes: our paisans (which included Siciliani,Calabrese, and Napolitani etc.) or “the Americans”.

 

The American tribe seemed stranger to me than the paisan tribe, and trying to fit into that tribe was quite confusing. For example, when visiting Americani one had to wait one’s turn to speak,slowing down conversation, but creating time for reflection. Portion sizes were miniscule at meals. I once had dinner at the home of a school chum and each person was allotted 1/2 a pork chop. I was starving when I got home and dug out the cold lasagna,because of course we always had left-overs in our over-stuffed fridge. But, my friend’s family had money to attend the symphony,go to the art museum and attend ballet. Mom could sing an aria as well as Maria Callas, or a pop ballad as well as Frank,and we danced around the kitchen together every day. She had won a jitterbug contest at radio City Music Hall at age 16 and music and dance filled our home. Each tribe had a lot to offer and I understood adhering to tribal dictates would have been a mistake.

 

I did not like the sound of English.Italian was much more musical and passionate in its delivery,using hand movements to extend and deepen meaning.English seemed drab. When I asked my Mother to teach me Italian and speak it more often so I could understand the adult conversations of my older extended family better she offered my first instruction in the difference between tribalism and citizenship when she stated, “You are an American now. You will speak English and learn to be an American. I will not teach you Italian.It will not help you become an American;it will only hold you back.”

 

When I responded that maybe I did not want to be an American she strongly set me straight. “It is America which protects us and gives us a chance to have a decent life, and to live in peace and prosperity.” As a woman particularly, she warned me that I should be greatful to be an American. “It is not so easy to be an Italian woman,” she explained. We are lucky to be Americans and living in the best country on earth. Italy was the “old country”;America is our country now. At Thanksgiving, Mom cooked turkey with all the trimmings, plus antipasto, lasagna and garlic bread. At Christmas and Easter we ate ham plus ravioli. Tribally, we were both Sicilian and Napolitan,both Italian and American. As citizens we were all-American.

 

When I listen to fundamentalist,tea-party,NRA furor I hear tribalism trumping citizenship. When I read about the Taliban, AlQuaeda in the Magreb and other such groups I see tribalism trumping citizenship.Tribalism is a threat to peace, and must be kept in check. The Soviet Union was an horrific and failed effort to reduce tribalism. The United States of America is the wondrous and best example of a successful effort to reduce tribalism. How do we do so? Through our Bill of Rights which covers every single citizen,even though we are still trying to make that a reality in fact.

 

We end tribalism through citizenship. The nation becomes larger and more meaningful to a citizen whose rights and freedoms are protected and preserved, than his allegiance to a tribe, especially one which tramples upon human rights and fails to protect the human rights of every member of the tribe. This is why the Soviet-Union failed, why Al Quaeda will fail, why any tribe seeking to assert its authority over a nation instead of under a nation is doomed to fail.

 

Which brings me to immigration reform. We must never approve an immigration policy which focuses on controlling tribes and creating an underclass through work visas, or one which allows women to be denied full freedom. The centerpiece of any sound immigration policy must be a path to citizenship. Do we really want to allow various tribes to live within our borders without citizenship? Do we understand that this would endanger our democracy?

 

This is a real danger. Tribalism is a threat to those outside the tribe,and often to those within the tribe. The only reason America has been able to peaceably self-govern and overcome the tidal wave of tribes,with all their differences, is through offering full citizenship to those willing to pledge allegiance to our constitution and to our Bill of Rights, which often flies in the face of the tribe’s belief system. For example,The Violence Against Women Act is being opposed by Republicans in part because it affords protection against violence for immigrant women. Do we understand the tribalism which perpetrates such violence, under a veil or not? Do we understand the tribalism among some Republicans which would deny a human right to a woman outside the American tribe? Tribalism is a threat both from tribal Americans and from tribal immigrants.

 

Citizenship carries rights and privileges, but it also demands allegiance to an enlightened set of principles laid out in our Constitution and Bill of Rights. We can’t have one without the other.Those who would zealously guard such principles, must also demand such allegiance.However, if they do not offer the rights of citizenship, they cannot demand allegiance to America. For over 200 years we have not invited tribes to settle here;we have invited citizens to settle here. That has kept us safe.That has kept us free.

 

We cannot understand the importance of immigration policy unless we understand the difference between tribalism and citizenship.

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January 18, 2013 · 7:29 pm

Running To Catch Up,Louise Annarino,5-29-2012

RUNNING TO CATCH UP

ImageLouise Annarino

May 29, 2012

My first memories of my father are the most precious, foreshadowing our life-long relationship. My five feet four inch giant, happy-go-lucky father would scoop me up with both arms, lift me high with legs dangling, then tuck me into the crook of his right arm, both of us chuckling madly at our good fortune. I was just learning to toddle and could not keep up with my parents and three year old brother whose hand Mom kept in a firm grasp. As I got a older, it was Dad who held my hand, as Mom gripped the hands of both my older and younger brothers. They seemed a world apart from me and Dad. While Mom was intent on teaching the boys to walk like little gentlemen at her side, Dad and I were off on a merry jaunt.

While Dad loped along with an easy gait, my short legs scissored so fast to keep the pace I would trip. Up I went into Dad’s arms. He never slowed down, nor stopped grinning at me as if we held some grand secret, even as Mom chided him to slow down and let me walk! I can still see his discomfort trying to arrange the frilly dress and crinolines layered over his arm, while Mom rolled her eyes at him. He loved to make Mom roll her eyes. He would reward her with a kiss and a laugh.

Dad’s cousins had warned her before they married “Angelo is ornery.” Mom liked ornery. We all liked ornery. Dad worked long hours with his brothers John, Joe, and Frank and cousin Johnny “Dayton” running an Italian-American restaurant. Every other week, it was his turn to be home between 5 and 7 pm before returning to stay later to close. That meant we could have our supper all together.  We would fight over who got to sit next to Dad. Mom joked, only because she knew we could never afford a new one,she would soon buy a table with a hole in the center for Dad to sit in so we would each be near him.

Dad could draw the best cartoons and funny pictures, but he could not spell worth a darn. His notes to school would read, “please excuse Lousie from class as she had a sure throat and we had to keep her home.” “Lousie? Dad, you called me lousie! Sure throat?” I would protest. “Sister knows who you are,”answered Dad. “Don’t worry. Nobody’s perfect. It will give her a good laugh! She needs one.” She did. Most teaching sisters did need a good laugh. Most Moms, too. Dad kept them all laughing.

Mom could never threaten us with “Wait ‘til your Dad gets home.” Dad usually thought our daily shenanigans great fun. He would try very hard to keep a straight face as he berated us for some activity my Mother thought out of bounds. Then he would relate some of the trouble he got himself into as a kid, “one-upping” us every time.No one held their breath over Dad’s discipline.

It was Mom who chased us through the house with a wooden spoon to smack our behinds. She could not run very fast, she seldom got close enough to connect spoon to backside. Her aim was awful, too! Faking her frustration at her failure to get us, she would crack that spoon over the telephone bench so hard it broke in half. “Next time,” she would threaten, “when I buy a stronger spoon!” It took years, and many broken spoons, to realize Mom had had no intention of catching us.

The only time silence and tears welled up in us over Dad’s discipline style was when he took off his belt and ordered my older brother into the bathroom for a whipping, with Mom’s full support. I remember sitting at the table, looking at the faces of my younger brothers, our eyes open wide in fear, as the sound of the belt connecting was followed by Angelo,Jr.‘s tearful screams. As both Angelos rejoined a now solemn group of children at the table, my brother would be wiping the moisture from his face, his and dad’s eyes downcast, faces blushed in humiliation. We were the best-behaved kids on the block for at least the next twenty-four hours, an eternity to us.

It was not until one Thanksgiving at that same table, thirty years later that we learned the dirty little secret about Dad and Angelo. Taking his tight belt off so he could eat a second helping of Mom’s lasagna (yes,we had turkey and lasagna),we started a discussion about other instances where Dad had to take off his belt. The Angelos finally confessed that Dad would hit the clothes hamper with his belt instructing Angelo to fake screams. Before leaving the bathroom, Angelo would splash water on his face to create false tears. Both kept their eyes downcast when they rejoined the table to stop the laughter they each held back, blushing with the effort. All those years we had wondered why only Angelo ever got the belt.

Mrs. Rowe lived on the huge lot behind us which stretched from the side street all the way to the alley. Neighborhood kids played baseball there until she called “Kreager”, the truant officer, to report our trespassing. Kreager would tell Dad, stopping in for a drink at the restaurant before he headed down to the south-end to clear us out, so Mom could get everyone out of Mrs. Rowe’s yard before Kreager showed up. This seemed to make everyone happy for the moment and no one had to worry about going to juvenile hall for playing baseball in Mrs. Rowe’s yard. I once hid in the bushes along the alley edging her property and overheard Mrs. Rowe chastise him for being so slow in responding to her calls. She desperately wanted him to catch the “juvenile delinquents” in the act. Kreager answered her that she should be glad we wanted to play in her yard. Our poor neighborhood had no playgrounds, no place for kids to be kids. She should “do her part” and let us have a place to play so we did “not become juvenile delinquents,” he told her. In such overheard conversations are great truths revealed to children.

Mrs. Rowe had an ancient and fertile apple tree in her yard, just over the wall between us but not within reach of our short arms. The tree produced sweet,firm yellow-green apples on limbs far above our heads. The ground apples were fine for Mom to make applesauce, but not for eating. We stood slightly out from under the tree hurling the fallen apples, knocking the good apples to the ground where we would gather them up. Mrs. Rowe was no happier with chucking apple-pickers than with ball players. She informed us “I don’t want you kids in my yard knocking apples out of the tree. You can have any apple you find on the ground, but do not stand in my yard and throw apples at the tree.” This was no bother for Mom but left us dissatisfied until we got the bright idea to use the clothes-line pole to extend our reach.

We still had to find a way to reach those apples without standing in Mrs. Rowe’s yard, focusing on the stand in my yard part of her reproach. So, I stood on our wall and swung the pole out toward the tree, while my brothers waited below. Swinging the pole didn’t knock down a single apple but invariably knocked me off the wall. We gave up. The boys went off to play near the railroad tracks.

I went inside surprised to find Dad asleep in his chair on a rare afternoon break, while Mom fixed dinner. I awoke Dad and asked for his help outside. He came without question, still half-asleep. I placed him on the wall and handed him the pole, instructing him to start swinging the pole at the apple tree as soon as I climbed over the wall into Mrs. Rowe’s yard. I forgot to tell him about listening for the squeaky door hinge which would tip him off that Mrs. Rowe was about to discover us. That loud hinge gave me just enough time to hide in the bushes. Thus, when Mrs. Rowe came around the corner off her porch all she found was Dad, standing on the wall, swinging the laundry pole, apples flying out of her tree. “Mr. Annarino! No wonder your children are such delinquents. Shame on you.”

I waited until Mom called us all in for dinner, expecting a stern lecture or worse from Dad. Instead, as soon as he saw me Dad started laughing out loud asking, “Where on earth did you get to so fast? How did you know to run?” He thought it one of my best pranks, ever.  But, he admonished, it was one we could never repeat. With Dad,everything that happened in life was a cause for joy; and,learning life’s lessons was always fun.

Dad, Mom, Mr.Kreager, Mrs. Rowe – each of them so far ahead of us, with so much to teach us simply by being themselves. Each of them loving us and expecting us to grow into respectful and respected adults. But, it is Dad’s lessons and laughter I hold dearest. His ability to see the absurdity of rules, his ability to avoid the ordinariness of daily living by adding his own creative spark, his willingness to risk the haughty stares of others for a bit of good fun made every day a delight for us. We had no wealth, but we ate well. We never took vacations, but were always on vacation from disquiet and poverty. We worked hard within the harsh reality of the working poor, but we laughed harder than the seriously wealthy. Dad was a man on the go his entire life. He has been gone over 12 years. I am still running to catch up.

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January 18, 2013 · 7:20 pm

WHAT ONE DADDY TAUGHT HIS LITTLE GIRL,Louise Annarino,1-18-2013

WHAT ONE DADDY TAUGHT HIS LITTLE GIRL,Louise Annarino

 

 

My daddy’s name was Angelo. He grew up without a Father to show him how to be a dad. His dad was a  skirt-chaser who left his wife alone to raise their four sons. Angelo was the baby. At age 3, when he lay on the sofa, dying from rheumatic fever which damaged his heart, the doctor went to his father to tell him so he could go visit his son and comfort his wife. Angelo’s father never showed up; not that day, and not until Angelo who was stronger than anyone could guess and thus survived, was in high school and old enough to help his father work his produce stand in the old Market Canal warehouse. Angelo cleaned the celery in buckets of ice water. His hands grew colder than the ice. But, his heart, his damaged heart, was always warm; especially for his little girl.

 

I was told that Daddy’s buttons popped off his shirt when his second child was born. Angelo was present in the room when I emerged from my Mother’s womb and he heard the doctor say, “You have a baby girl.” He had always wanted a sister and cherished the role of being a father to a little girl, and was thrilled  his sons (he would have three sons) would have a sister. He had done something his father had been unable to do. As a teenager, Angelo had discovered his father had secretly sired a daughter with one of his paramours, but Angelo never knew this sister. Angelo did many things his father had been unable, or unwilling, to do. The most important ?  He loved his children and was ever-present to them; an amazing feat for a man who worked 16 hour days, six days a week.

 

Daddy and his four brothers, one cousin, one retired uncle, and Angelo’s best friend ran an Italian-American family restaurant. At first, Mom did all the baking, and made pizzas. After I was born she stayed home to take care of my older brother and the brothers who came after me. Dad may not have been home much, but I always knew where to find him. Not once did I feel I had interrupted him. My presence in the restaurant was never questioned. I was as much at home there as in my own living room. Being where Dad was ? That was being “at home”.

 

These are things my daddy taught me:

 

  1. Being hugged, held and comforted can make the most difficult situation bearable. It takes away pain and builds one’s strength to allow others to offer comfort. I recall a day my mother had had enough of motherhood, and especially enough of me. Caring for a 3 year old son and a 1 year old daughter had taken its toll on her. She called my dad home from work to help her. When he arrived she told him “Take this child out of here ! I can’t do this today !” Daddy reached down and pulled me into his arms, cuddling me close and humming a sweet buzz in my ear as I hiccuped my cries. I felt his big thumb gently catch a huge tear sliding down my cheek. I looked into his eyes which were smiling at my own. I stopped crying. Daddy took me out and we went for a drive, giving Mom some time alone to calm herself and have a cup of tea while my brother napped. I never napped. While that was probably the real issue, I felt I was the issue. I often felt rejected by my mother. But, my father never rejected me. When I wet my bed at night and crawled over my mother to fit my wet-pajama self in between them, it was Daddy who soothed me and changed my sheets while Mom complained at the extra laundry I was creating for her. Daddy taught me that rejection by others, and their complaints about me, had more to do with their own needs than with me. He soothed my mother and he soothed me; blaming neither one of us. His compassionate understanding of human nature was one of Daddy’s greatest gifts to me.

 

  1. Money alone does not solve the problem of poverty. Daddy always  took me with him when he collected rent from Grandpa’s renters who lived on an alley near the railroad tracks downtown. We also rented a house from my Grandpa a few blocks away; but, ours was shingled and well-kept. This house was a run-down unpainted shack. Daddy took me because the renters had several small children, including a little girl my age. While he went inside to collect whatever rent he could, I played with the children in the front yard. Often, Daddy paid part of their rent rather than tell Grandpa they could not pay. He told me not to tell anyone. He explained that the people were doing the best they could do and he did not want the family to suffer. His job, he explained, was to help the parents relax and feel safe. My job was to help the children relax and feel safe. Being poor, he knew from experience, made children worry and feel scared all the time. Helping with money for rent was not enough; we needed to show people they could feel safe enough with us to enjoy life. His passion for life’s joys was something to share with everyone, even those who otherwise could not afford to simply enjoy life. His passion for helping others to enjoy life was one of Daddy’s greatest gifts to me.

 

  1. Girls have the same rights as boys. Every summer we went to Staten Island to visit with my mom’s sister Millie. Daddy drove us there and weeks later he returned to pick us up. He only stayed a few days before driving back. My Uncle Sal loved to go “crabbing”. What seafood feasts we had. One evening I overheard him and Daddy talking about what time Aunt Millie had to wake them and the kids, so they could string the cages and place them on the outgoing tidal floor. I was ecstatic to be able to join in. When I climbed in bed early so I was sure I could get up at 3 am, Uncle Sal informed me I was mistaken. “Only boys can come; it is no place for girls,” he stated. Crestfallen, I implored my Dad to let me go. My Dad who always included me when he pitched balls to the boys, taught us all how to block a tackle, connect with a boxing bag, and bait a hook would certainly allow me to go crabbing, too. He took one long look at me and calmly told Uncle Sal, “If my daughter cannot go, neither can I, nor my sons.” That is all it took. A willingness to make sacrifices so that everyone can be included in life’s opportunities was one of Daddy’s greatest gifts to me.

 

  1. It is not how one looks or dresses which makes a girl feel beautiful; it is how one is honored and cherished which makes her feel beautiful. And, being cherished is what every girl deserves. I started dancing school at age two. Every monday and wednesday evening and several hours every saturday until I was fourteen,  I was practicing at Marjorie Pickerell’s Dance Studio, a few blocks around the town square from my dad’s restaurant. After lessons I walked over to eat my dinner and Daddy would drive me home. He could never take off work for my recitals since they occurred during the busiest part of his work day.  But, he came to a recital once, at the close of my routine, which was the close of the recital. That year the recital theme was “The Wedding”. I danced as the bride; the wedding was the final number. I wore my frilly white First Communion dress and veil as my wedding costume. But it was not the dress that made me feel beautiful; it was Daddy. My partner groom and I had just left the stage to applause, when Marjorie ushered me back out onto the stage to take an encore bow. There, at the base of the stage, between the footlights which blocked out all the audience but allowed me to see him was the man who cherished me. Still dressed in his standard black pants, white shirt, and stained full-length white apron stood my Daddy with a huge bridal bouquet which he presented to me as though I were the world’s greatest ballerina, to much audience laughter and applause. He had only seen me dance in his mind’s eye, but what he saw was beautiful. And so, I was. Giving me a sense of my own beauty was one of Daddy’s greatest gifts to me.

 

  1. Racism was omni-present in my world. It was something I knew I had to stop. As a second generation Italian-American I grew up hearing stories of prejudice endured by my family and friends. However, our ordeal was minor compared to what I saw African-Americans endure. I was incensed by the fact that there seemed no escape for them, as there was for me. When I read about apartheid I was stunned that our government continued to do business with South Africa and Rhodesia. “Then, do something about it”, Daddy entreated me. “I’m only 10 years old,” I argued. His close childhood friend, Republican John Ashbrook had been elected a congressman and Daddy suggested I meet with him when he came home for constituent meetings. On a saturday morning I climbed into a chair meant for an adult, and asked Congressman Ashbrook sitting at his desk in the Licking County courthouse how he could justify his recent vote to buy chromium from Rhodesia when that government continued its policy of apartheid. We discussed the Rhodesian issue and the issue of American racism at length. From then on, Congressman Ashbrook and I began a lifelong correspondence. He sent me copies from the congressional record of any reference to racial issues at home and abroad. The complexity of issues and the detailed efforts to chart a corrective course through the halls of congress became clear to me. Although I remain a liberal and Mr. Ashbrook was a strong conservative we were able to reach consensus on many issues. That is what Daddy wanted me to learn. Life is difficult. Problems are thorny. Nothing is perfect. But, we must make every effort to change our world for the better and we can only do so by engaging those with whom we disagree. It is easy to complain among our friends; but, hard to solve problems with those with whom we disagree. Showing me that no matter what my limitations, I must do my very best to resolve problems, going as far as possible no matter how foolish I felt, was one of Daddy’s greatest gifts to me.

 

  1. After my first year of law school, Congressman John Ashbrook offered me a summer internship in Washington, D.C. I was preparing to drive from Cincinnati to D.C. when I got a call from the congressman, “Louise, I am so sorry, but I was at the restaurant last night talking with your Dad and I have to withdraw my offer. You cannot work for me this summer.” It seems Daddy told Mr. Ashbrook that their 40 years of friendship were over unless he withdrew the job. Daddy felt Washington was not a safe place for a young woman, despite Mr. Ashbrook’s assurances he would keep an eye on me. After much wrangling, he gave into Daddy and called me. My faith in all I believed about Daddy was crushed in that single phone call,even as my love for him endured. I could not understand his lack of faith in me. Years later, my youngest brother served as an intern for Congressman Ashbrook for two summers, while he studied law. I asked Daddy why he allowed my brother to go to Washington, but blocked my opportunity. He answered that my brother was more selective than I, more cautious than I and, therefore, less likely to get himself into a situation he could not handle. I, on the other hand, never saw a situation I did not think I could take charge of, was afraid of nothing and no one, and constantly sought out the most difficult challenges – those no one else was willing to take on. And he added, “sexism”. I finally understood that Daddy had not lost faith in me. He knew exactly who I was and felt he needed to protect me; not from Washington, D.C. but from myself. It took courage to do that. He risked my love for him to protect me. I still disagree with his decision because I still think I can handle anything. I have proved my Daddy’s case. Learning to accept who I am, who those I know and love are, warts and all, was one of Daddy’s greatest gifts to me.

 

My Daddy lives on in my sense of self. His gifts to me are endless. Many little girls are fortunate to have similar stories about their daddies. Too many little girls have no such stories. Let us remember our daddies. And, let us pledge to do all we can to create a community where every little girl can grow up with such daddies. There is much to do. As Daddy would say, “Stop your bellyaching and go do something about it !”

 

 

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January 13, 2013 · 4:45 pm

The Quietest World War in History,Louise Annarino,1-13-2013

The Quietest World War in History,Louise Annarino,1-13-2013

 

Drones have enabled the west to fight a world war without its citizens being aware. These unmanned silent ships of surveillance cruise the world directed from afar. U.S. and RAF pilots control these flights from Nevada, except for the initial take-off and landing which are controlled by companion crews where the drones are physically maintained.1

The United States,unlike Britain also uses armed drones to attack targets the drone has isolated; the RAF uses conventional weapons once the drone has isolated a target. U.S. surveillance drones are also used by French forces to guide air attacks. The U.N. relies upon drone surveillance to understand threats to nations around the globe,and make appropriate decisions calling for intervention. Nowhere is this more evident than in the growing threat from Islamist rebels aligned with Al Quaeda in northern Africa known as A.Q.I.M. (Al Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb), where troops from 15 nation regional block the Economic Community of West African States known as ECOWAS are being trained by the European Union.2

This world war is as different from the Cold War as the Cold War was from WWII,which differed from WWI. But, it is as widespread and threatens the survival of nations, and kills both combatants and civilians. There are at least two notable differences: First,the lack of awareness by citizens of the west that they are engaged in a world war; a war which will not end with the withdrawl of conventional troops from Afghanistan and Iraq. and second, the lack of attention we citizens of the west pay to media accounts.

There is growing concern over the backlash of the use of drones. However, the alternative to the use of drones would be far worse. There would undoubtedly be more civilian deaths,more combat deaths and injuries for soldiers on both sides,more property destruction,higher numbers of refugees,more danger to our troops etc.1 We must question,however,whether this reduced impact of war by the use of drones merely extends its duration by lessening our attention and outrage.

President Obama and Secretary of Defense nominee Chuck Hagel share a world view that war is hell and we only go to war when asolutely necessary. Each seems to  understand far better than we that we are engaged in a different kind of war, a war where acts of terror are the weapon of choice by those bent upon the destruction of western economic,social, and religious dominance. Such a war cannot be fought with conventional methods. President Obama and Chuck Hagel are ready to restructure the Pentagon and the military industrial complex. The military and industrial complex is fighting back. Companies which manufacture conventional weapons fear lost revenues should they be forced to compete with high-tech robotics industries, or re-tool conventional arms to high-tech arms manufacturing plants. It is all about the bottom line for them. It cannot be so for the nation,nor for the security of its citizens.

Our national security depends upon a new methodology,one understood and currently deployed to maximum effect possible by President Obama. It behooves us to pay attention and to understand the need for change he suggests. A smaller overseas military footprint; development of new technology to reduce civilian deaths,increase certainty as to terrorist targets,use of surveillance for broader objectives etc. is our future.3 Beating swords into plowshares must still be our goal;but,how we get to that place is changing. However,we cannot condemn what we do not understand. The silence is deafening and Hagel’s Senate confirmation hearing will be more about protecting the financial interest of private contrators and arms manufacturers than our country. The dones may be silent. We need not be. We must not be.

1.http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/uknews/defence/9552547/The-air-force-men-who-fly-drones-in-Afghanistan-by-remote-control.html

2.http://www.nytimes.com/2013/01/13/world/africa/french-airstrikes-push-back-islamist-rebels-in-mali.html?nl=todaysheadlines&emc=edit_th_20130113

3.http://www.popsci.com/category/tags/drones

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January 5, 2013 · 4:14 am

PROTESTING IDENTITY,by Louise Annarino,1-4-2013

PROTESTING IDENTITY,by Louise Annarino,1-4-2013

 

In the midst of campus chaos at OSU I went home one week-end. Week-ends are busy for restaurant owners; so, as usual, if I wanted to see my dad I had to go to the Center Cafe. It was usually a rewarding experience to be welcomed by Dad, my uncles and their regulars. Uncle Joe would boom out a hearty, “Hey, it’s my niece. Say hello to her everybody!” Uncle Frankie would quietly grin and ask, “Want  cheese on that body builder?”, as he placed a burger on the grill. Uncle Johnny would uncap a cold coke, fill a glass with ice and pass it across the bar to me with a “Hey kiddo!” Dad would come from behind the bar, give me a kiss on the cheek, motioning me to a booth where we could talk. It was homecoming to my second home.

 

That Saturday morning, It was not surprising to see a new American flag hanging on the wall of the entrance foyer; there were three equally large flags  hanging above the booths running along the wall across from the grill and bar in the front dining room. Each flag had been flown above the U.S. Capitol and gifted to the brothers by a congressman or senator. What did surprise me was the hand-written sign hanging in the entry foyer “Protesters and hippies will not be served. America! Love it or leave it.”

 

I stood there a moment wondering what kind of welcome to expect this time. Barefoot, a tie-dyed scarf for a top, cut-off jean shorts with a shredded hem, and a triangled-flag scarf on my head, tied at my nape to hold back, my waist-length hair; I looked a proverbial hippie. I had been protesting the racism,sexism and homophobia on the OSU campus for two years. Now, our protest had merged with anti-war protests across the country, and I was boycotting classes. I came home hoping to find a safe refuge, a peaceful respite from the constant turmoil and endless disputes, from the gassings and shootings.

 

Pointing out the sign, I asked my uncles, “Are you sure you want to serve me? I am one of those protesters you dislike so much.” They each smiled their crooked smiles, not their usual ear-to-ear grins and said, “Sit down and eat. You look like you are ready to disappear.” In order to love me they refused to see me. I had disappeared the minute I entered the restaurant.

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January 2, 2013 · 4:15 pm

HEALTHY APPETITES FUEL HEALTHY ECONOMIES,By Louise Annarino,January 2,2013

Healthy Appetites Fuel Healthy Economies, By Louise Annarino, January 2, 2013

 

Feeling bloated? Too many cookies over the holidays? Made a resolution to lose weight; eat less and exercise more? “Five a day!” “Color your plate!” “Work Those Abs!” “Keep Moving!”  This is nothing new. We have heard it all before.

 

Sensible weight loss, we are told, involves not severe calorie restriction, but sensible eating. Add more fresh vegetables and fruit. We are warned that if we cut calories too fast, or eat too little our body will believe it is starving and slow its metabolism even more. It will conserve and eventually shut-down its operation of essential functions leading to illness, even death. Anorexia and bulimia are now a routine part of the American lexicon. Our bodies need calories from food to function,survive, and thrive.Only when well-fueled can we keep our bodies moving, healthy and productive

 

The body politic has the same needs as the human body. Excessive military spending, waging war without raising taxes to pay the billions of dollars war costs, uncontrolled rising costs of medical  care and health insurance premiums increasing medicare costs, and  unregulated securities industry  nearly which nearly destroyed  banking worldwide, have bloated our deficit. The answer,however, is not to become bulimic and purge our government of the taxes needed to fuel government operations. Nor is  the answer anorexic refusal to continue funding programs which would sustain our country’s very survival, and the heath and well-being of our fellow citizens.

 

The answer is to cut out those foods which are high in calories but low in benefit to the body politic. For example, subsidize green energy and manufacturing to build a competitive economic base and increase exports which would improve the GDP and decrease the trade deficit. And, eliminate oil subsidies for companies which are so bloated by profits they no longer need the subsidy. Also, extend medicare for all; don’t cut it or increase its operational costs. Take the boated profit from health insurers and apply the savings to broader preventive care for the entire population which would reduce costs over time.It would free a company to redirect its profits into wages for employees,rather than funding their health care plans. Pass a transportation bill which would reduce our dependency on oil, rebuild and redesign our transportation infrastructure and connect communities large and small.This would create new jobs, expand the tax base and lower the deficit with greater productivity. Conservatives try to “starve the beast”. We should instead be feeding the body politic. They have it exactly backwards.

 

The role of a representative government is to secure the safety, productivity and civil rights of its citizens, encourage the productivity and health of the nation itself, and propel the country forward into an unknown future. Both individuals and political bodies must eat wisely but well, stay active and involved in the world, and strengthen their ability to rise to the challenges yet  to come. An anorexic or bulimic government response is no solution to what ails our economy. Government must continue to feed the economy, but do it “smarter” and better as President Obama often reminds us. We and our government should switch from trans-fats to olive oil, but it can’t and it should not eliminate fat altogether. Without some fat, some essential vitamins cannot be stored or used by muscle we need to keep moving.

 

Fiscal conservatives must not be allowed to label a healthy and well-balanced spending/taxing formula as destructive. To the contrary, it is that balance which will stimulate individuals and government to  greater health and productivity. Those who want to protect their grandchildren’s future would do well to recall what is required to rear healthy and productive children and economies. Want to save your grandchildren? Feed them well, and often. Neither we, nor our government, are beasts.

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December 28, 2012 · 1:47 am

JUST HUNGRY, By Louise Annarino, January 20,2012

Not Envious Just Hungry, By Louise Annarino,January 20,2012

A year ago I wrote the following blog. Sadly, the issues raised remain unsolved despite President Obama and the Democratic Senators and Representatives work to reach agreement with Republicans. Republicans have dragged their heels for over a year; and yet ,expect us to believe they don;t have time to do anything to avoid a fiscal cliff. This is a reminder of what is at stake.

“Let them eat cake !” Marie Antoinette purportedly responded when told of bread riots in the streets of Paris; failing to heed the warning that her 1% lifestyle would not sit well with the 99% who were hungry, jobless and hopeless. Americans are hungry, jobless and homeless; but, thanks to the safety net of Social Security, Medicare, Medicaid, unemployment insurance, and food stamps they are not quite so hopeless nor desperate as those who overthrew the French monarchy. Everyone should be grateful we have a “food stamp president” !

Politicians used to understand that the social contract between the rich and poor was an essential cog in the economic engine of the country; and, the very thing which would allow citizens to amass wealth, without the threat of harm to the nation or themselves. Republicans and Democrats alike passed into law programs to create and protect a strong middle class. It was understood and agreed upon that the American dream was not built on envy, but on the Golden Rule “Do unto others as you would have others do unto you.”

The latest crop of Republican congresspersons seem to have forgotten this. The top 1% of investment earners (one cannot honestly call them wage earners) would have 99% of us wage earners believe that reminding them of this social contract is un-American, anti-capitalist, and irreligious.

Now,  Republican congressional leaders such as Sen. Mitch McConnell and Rep. John Boehner undermine the Golden Rule, claiming, as men who are right with God, that anyone who oppose their economic and social order policies, must be wrong;and,not only are they wrong but they are evil, which carries the weight of immorality. Asking that the Golden Rule be applied to economic policy does not make the 99ers immoral, unpatriotic socialists, un-American, nor envious. Republicans would shut down the bakery before they would share a piece of the American pie.

Years ago, before labor laws, civil rights laws, and a system of public education for all children created a middle class the working class had to be satisfied with crumbs from the table. Labor unions, enforceable civil rights, and public education created a place at the table for workers. But now, Governors like John Kasich of Ohio tell us we are envious when we ask for a menu, question why no food is being served to us, or ask how they arranged to have nearly all the food piled on their plates as it disappeared from our own.  They say we are envious. No, we are simply hungry.

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August 20, 2012 · 10:53 pm

IT MUST NOT BE RAPE IF A WOMAN GETS PREGNANT,By Louise Annarino,August 20,2012

It Must Not Be Rape If A Woman Gets Pregnant,By Louise Annarino,August 2o,2012

As I write this I am listening to Tchaikowsky’s Sleeping Beauty Suite via Spotify, thanks to a helpful young nephew who downloaded it to my computer.Little girls love the story of Sleeping Beauty. Even those of us who are feminists to the core dream the most beautiful dream of all, finding our prince.  A few of us are lucky enough to have found him. Then there is rape, the stuff of nightmares.

Students moved into residence halls at The Ohio State University this week-end. Some of them will be raped; 1out of 4 is a commonly cited statistic. Another is that 90% knew their rapist; and yet another that 60% of male college students “indicated some likelihood of raping or using force in certain circumstances”(see more at http://www.crisisconnectioninc.org/sexualassault/college_campuses_and_rape.htm).

As a 19 year old student and Resident Advisor or RA at OSU I spent many nights in the University Hospital emergency room comforting such young women; and, sometimes comforting those who were hemorrhaging from a back-alley abortion. Abortions were then illegal. Sleeping Beauties, these young women, who sought to make a dream come true, woke up in a nightmare. Every 21 hours a woman is raped on a college campus.

It is not only college women, those uppity females who believe they are as smart and as competent as men, and able to compete with them who face sexual assault. Rape crosses all economic and sexual barriers. In a department of Justice Study 1 in 6 women and 1 in 33 men experienced rape or attempted rape. Yet, a 1992 report from the National Victim Center ( see more at http://www.911rape.org/facts-quotes/statistics )called rape the most underreported violent crime in America; with one in six victims reporting the rape. The 2000 FBI Uniform Crime Report states that a rape occurs in the United States once every 5 minutes.

The young are more likely to be sexually assaulted than adults. In the 1992 study the National Victim Center reported the following breakdown by age of victims:

29.3% were less than 11 years old
32.3% were between 11 and 17
22.2% were between 18 and 24
7.1% were between 25 and 29
6.1% were older than 29
3.0% age was not available

Getting lost in statistics? Each one is a human being just like you,your wife,daughter, mother,sister,niece. Rapists live among us as family, friends, neighbors. Rape is a violent crime not because of the nature of penetration, the level of force used, nor the behavior of a woman prior to the rape. It is because sex is used as a weapon to injure,maim,even kill a woman; body, heart and soul. Rape is meant to denigrate and defile a woman. To show her how worthless she really is. It is not a sexual act but a violent act using sex as the weapon.

While working on a graduate level project at a maximum security men’s prison in Ohio I discovered that most rapes are planned; inmates often described to me how they selected their victims. The reason most women report knowing their rapist is because he sets up potential victims by making innocent and deceptively friendly contact with her hours,days,weeks in advance; often, by simply asking for the time or directions and making conversation. Those women who respond favorably and kindly are selected. Those who ignore or showed distaste for the man’s advances are bypassed as likely to be a “problem”. I was told (women in the helping professions) teachers,nurses and social workers are particularly sought out. Since then, I am most unfriendly to any man I do not know and give a glaring look if asked for directions etc. Not very ladylike; I have no illusions about, nor dreams of being a princess.

I understood rape,finally, despite the hours I had spent with women who had experienced it, when I was nearly gang-raped while walking across the OSU campus in daylight, walking with two female roommates. I had taken several self-defense courses and like many women mistakenly believed I could take-down or escape a rapist, never imagining the possibility of pair or gang-rapes. 85% of rape survivors report they tried unsuccessfully to reason with the man who raped her. 55% of campus gang-rapes are committed by fraternities,40% by sports teams,and 5% by others.(http://www.oneinfourusa.org/statistics.php) In my case it was the intervention by the OSU football squad which saved me. GO BUCKS!

Which brings me to the Teapublican fraternity of men in the House and Senate who show their disdain for women by submitting bills to control them, deprive them of needed health care, and pay them less than men doing the same job. Recently, Representatives Todd Akin (R-MO) and Paul Ryan (R-WI) co-sponsored H.R. 3“No Taxpayer Funding for Abortion Act,” which initially included language which changed the definition of rape to forcible rape. Later,public pressure forced the bill’s supporters to remove that unacceptable and narrow definition. Perhaps Mr. Akin meant to say forcible instead of legitimate while defending his extreme anti-choice view because he believes some rapes are legitimate, and/or not all rapes are forcible. Either way the idea of rape held by Mr. Akin, Mr. Ryan and other Teapublicans is misguided. They discuss rape as if it were a sexual act, as if some sex is legitimate and some not; as if some sex is forced and some not. Rape does not illustrate a woman’s willingness or unwillingness to exert her sexuality. It can never be legitimate. It is inherently a use of force meant to denigrate and harm a woman. Rape is a weapon against women.It is a criminal act; and they don’t get it.

His very words over during a recent interview illustrate the Teapublican Akin’s failure to understand the problems women face: “First of all, from what I understand from doctors [pregnancy from rape] is really rare. If it’s a legitimate rape, the female body has ways to try to shut that whole thing down.” Why is he talking with doctors about rape? Why is he not talking with criminal experts? Why is he talking about pregnancy resulting from rape? Why is he not talking about the injuries sustained by women resulting from rape? Why? Because he is not interested in rape. He dos not respect a woman’s right to be free of criminal attack when sex is the weapon.He is interested in stopping ALL abortions, even those resulting from rape. Abortion is his raison d’etre. SInce a woman who gets pregnant could not have been raped, there is no need to add an exemption for rape victims in legislation denying funding for abortion. This was no slip of the tongue;this is Teapublican policy espoused by candidates running on the Republican Party tickets across the country.

How would Akin and Ryan decide which rapes are legitimate or forcible, and which are not? If Akin’s scientific analysis is correct, any rape resulting in pregnancy would NOT be a legitimate rape since a legitimate rape “would shut that whole thing down”. If “that whole thing” did not shut down, then the rape must not be legitimate rape. The woman should not be protected nor her abortion/health care needs funded.

I resent having my female reproductive health system described as “that whole thing”. Akin and Ryan talk about God and religion so much one would expect a little more sanctity and appreciation for God’s design of women’s bodies. One would expect them to respectfully learn the truth about sexuality and reproduction. One would expect them to respect women and protect them from criminal violence;not parse such violence against women for political gain.

The Akin-Ryan denigration of women from the floor of congress and their campaign trails is painful and frightening to all women, but especially to those of us who have had to learn to overcome the hatred and disdain of the men who attacked us. Now,  presidential candidate Romney selects Rep. Paul Ryan to run as Vice-President. Mr. Akin, Mr. Ryan and Mr. Romney wound us anew. Of course they frighten us. They are the stuff of nightmares which have never gone away.

 

 

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August 18, 2012 · 7:07 pm

SYNERGY OR SERENDIPITY? RACISM IS ALIVE AND WELL IN OFFICES OF SECRETARIES OF STATE,BY Louise Annarino,August 18, 2012

SYNERGY OR SERENDIPITY? RACISM IS ALIVE AND WELL IN OFFICES OF SECRETARIES OF STATE,BY Louise Annarino,August 18, 2012

Synergy is two or more things functioning together to produce a result not independently obtainable.

The Suppression of the African-American vote deserves a blog entry all its own. I recently wrote about the general suppression of early voters in Ohio. Such behavior is disgraceful. But, suppression of the African-American vote is truly beyond the pale of thinking Americans.Perhaps no one is thinking. Perhaps the intent is not so deliberately racist as it appears. However, I find it difficult to believe what is happening in Ohio and simultaneously in so many states had not been planned.

General systems theory would remind me of serendipity; perhaps it is simply a “surprising happenstance” that the votes of those groups who so strongly supported Barack Obama in 2008 are being systemically suppressed throughout the country during the 2012 election. 95% of African Americans in the U.S., 97% in Ohio, voted for Barack Obama in 2008. “With population growth and increased voter participation among blacks, Latinos and Asians, members of all three groups cast more votes in 2008 than in 2004. Two million more blacks and 2 million more Latinos reported voting in 2008 than said the same in 2004. Among Asians, 338,000 more votes were reported cast in 2008 than in 2004.” http://pewresearch.org/pubs/1209/racial-ethnic-voters-presidential-election  An even higher turn-out among these groups is expected for the 2012 election.

It is estimated no fewer than 93,000 persons voted on the week-end before the November 2008 election. Since not all county election boards keep a daily tally of voters this number may be far lower than actual votes cast. There is no way to prove the race of voters on that or any other week-end. However, we do know that African-American churches “Souls to the Polls” projects bus hundreds of thousands of African-Americans to early voting after church services on Sundays, including the final Sunday before election day. We do know that getting to the polls, early or on election day is a struggle for single mothers, students, older persons, those relying on public transportation, and those working longer hours for less pay. We have a collective a memory of who was left standing in long lines, who had to leave the lines without voting in 2004; and who formed long lines throughout the interior hallways, and out the door to wrap themselves in a line extending around Veteran’s Memorial and into the parking lot on week-ends in 2008. African-Americans stood witness as far larger percentage of voters in-line than the percentage of African-Americans living in Ohio. For African-Americans, wek-end voting is a necessity, not a convenience.

The recent efforts in Ohio,Pennsylvania and other states to make it more difficult to vote are being justified using the same arguments which were used to deny African-Americans and women the right to vote; which later were used to impose a poll tax or literacy test to deny African-Americans their place at the polls. Now, we face a bigger hurdle. The systemic institutionalization of voting rules meant to turn voting rights into mere privileges as a means of controlling whose vote will get cast,and counted.

We elected an African-American president, while white men thought they could still hold onto power. Putting a woman, Sarah Palin,on the Republican ticket was not enough to overcome the changing demographic. What’s next, a woman president? An African-American woman president? A Latino, Latina or Asian president?

I believe what we are seeing is synergy, not serendipity. Racism coupled with the power held by state Republicans to regulate voting is threatening our elections. On NPR this morning a man was questioned about his opposition to congressional candidate Christie Vilsack. His reason for opposing her, “No way. It’s a man world”. It really isn’t; not any longer. The only way to keep the U.S. “a man’s world” is to suppress the vote of those who would easily and happily live in a multicultural America.

On August 6, 2012 The Honorable John Lewis (D-GA) stated on his facebook page: “47 years ago today, President Johnson signed the Voting Rights Act into law. It is a shame and a disgrace that today we bear witness to a deliberate and systematic attempt to make it impossible for some among us to vote. It is an affront to those that suffered and struggled, and especially to those who gave their lives so that others would be free to choose their own elected leaders. We must resist every effort to make it harder and more difficult for people to register and vote.” Yesterday, I listened to an interview of Congressman Lewis on CNN where he was asked whether the racist environment during his civil rights days marching with Dr. King for the Civil Rights,where he was set-upon by dogs,hosed,beaten and jailed was worse than what we see and hear today. Congressman Lewis said  (I paraphrase) “It is the same. But then, it was only in the South. Today it is everywhere in the country.”

The struggle for the right of African-Americans to vote continues as we demand the restoration of week-end voting in Ohio, the removal of unobtainable documentation requirements for and end to voter ID in Pennsylvania, and a slew of other burdens and obstacles to voting across the country. If the vote of one person can be denied, the vote of every person can be denied. While it is clear what is being denied to African-American voters we must recognize it could also be denied to every voter, even to those like SoS Husted. He and his party may not always hold power. They should not forget they are simply one of us, as we are all part of the whole. The precedent he is setting treats the right to vote as a privilege to be controlled and doled out according to the whims of those in power. This is dangerous to all Americans.

Once again, African-Americans are on the front-lines defending the constitution we all love, witnesses to the need of those in power to oppress even it means their own self-destruction. We must stand together or we will fall together. As Sen.Robert Kennedy once said,  “Each time a man stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope, and crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring, those ripples build a current which can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance.” African-American,white,Latino,Asian,men,women we must stand together against the folly we are witnessing.

 

 

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