Just when we thought that the gay marriage debate was going take a back seat in this election cycle, the New Jersey Supreme Court issued its decision in Lewis v. Harris. The court held that, under the equal protection clause of the New Jersey Constitution, same sex couples must be afforded on equal terms the same rights and benefits afforded to opposite sex couples under the state's marriage statutes. The court left the state legislature to decide the particular statutory scheme to provide these rights. Three of the justices would have gone further than the majority and found that same sex couples are entitled to be married under the state's current statutes.
Sure as night follows day, President Bush and a number of Republican candidates have decided to use this as an opportunity to whip up their right-wing cultural conservative supporters. Decrying "activist judges", they have taken to dredging up support for a constitutional amendment to ban same sex marriages. It's also no coincidence that 8 states have similar proposals on their ballots to amend their state constitutions to do the same, a fact helpful for Republican turnout.
The claptrap about "activist judges" is at once disingenuous and destructive to the tripartate system designed by the constitutional framers. It's always been the province of the judiciary to hold the other two branches accountable to the mandates of the constitution. In this case, the New Jersey Supreme Court did just that. When majoritirian impulses trample on the rights of a minority, it's the judiciary that needs to safeguard those rights. Of course, what's a constitution to this president. If he can convince Congress to ban habeas corpus for alleged war criminals, what can he do to a bunch of gays and lesbians who don't know their place.
However, I think the New Jersey court got it right for a number of reasons and those reasons also call into question the entire quest for recognition of same sex relationships under marriage statutes. It's important to remember that, until not that long ago (say 2001), it would have seemed inconievable that there would be a possibility for same sex couples to obtain legal recognition as marriage. With the decision of the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court in 2004 mandating recognition under that state's marriage statutes, the movement accelerated to obtain similar recognition under other states' statutes. However, in the past year, and until Harris, the legal decisions have been a litany of bad news. Even the New York Court of Appeals declined to find a right to marry for same sex couples under that state's laws. So, should we celebrate Harris or mark it as a step backward?
I believe same sex couples deserve to have their relationships recognized by the state, allowing gays and lesbians to receive the same legal protections my wife and I can obtain under the law. When we got married over ten years ago, we discussed whether to do so legally, given the history of discrimination against same sex couples. We ultimately decided that disadvantaging ourselves would not necessarily advance the cause of obtaining recognition for same sex relationships. But we also believed that the time had come for such recognition to be a reality and had many friends in committed same sex relationships that should be regarded the same as ours.
However, by driving towards marriage, legal advocates have raised a red flag for a large portion of the American population uncomfortable with what this would represent. It also had the perhaps unintended consequence of conflating what marriage, the historical and religious institution, is versus how marriage is treated under civil law. If you ask most (sane) people whether gays and lesbians should be treated equally, a majority would probably say yes. But once this treatment is framed under the rubric of marriage, the opinions shift.
Marriage as a civil institution has had a checkered past and its historical origins had much more to do with chattel and property than rights and privileges for those involved. Why link the cause of legal recognition for same sex relationships to such vehicle? Isn't the whole purpose of the enterprise to ensure that the same legal rights and responsibilities be made available to same sex couples?
Also, by linking this cause to the baggage of civil marriage, advocates have allowed opponents to raise marriage as a religious/cultural institution under assault. Instead of arguing against the rights of same sex couples, these reactionary forces can use this as yet another example of the homosexual agenda driving our society to perdition. It also makes potential supporters into opponents by focusing on how marriage has been tied to religious interpretations in the Bible and elsewhere.
Let's get off the marriage hot button and focus on what is needed to make it possible for same sex couples to get legal, as opposed to religious, recognition of their committments. That is what the current legal quest should be about and where I think society is ultimately headed. And let's stop giving right-wingers a potential platform to demagogue (hello, Michelle Bachman) and pander to people's worst instincts.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Sunday, October 15, 2006
Adventures in Aqualand
For my son Andrew's 7th birthday this fall, my wife Jodi and I agreed to buy him a new aquarium. You see, for the last five plus years, we have lived four blocks from the mother of all aquarium stores, the aptly named "Aqualand". Ever since my son laid eyes on the store, it's been one of our ongoing stops around the neighborhood. Forget the Underwater Adventure at the Mall of America. This place is for serious folks.
If there is a single fish or aquatic-related supply that does not exist in Aqualand's inventory, I doubt it's legal. Want tetras? They've got a dozen different varieties. Looking for that special piranha for your annoying neighbor? Come on down. Are your angel fish picky eaters? More food choices than an Old Country Buffet.
Now, I must explain that I have zero experience dealing with aquariums. Growing up, my family had the occasional goldfish in a bowl. Most were usually temporary residents in our house. Once in awhile, my dad would clean the bowl. Occasionally, I would even remember to feed it. Then, on some Saturday morning, one of us would come downstairs to the dining room and find the poor thing belly up. Last rites were said and then the deceased was sent to its final resting place in the New York City sewer system.
A few days before Andrew's birthday, Jodi and I journeyed to Aqualand to scope out the prospects. Faced with the reality that I needed to learn about aquariums quickly, I did what any dad would do. I threw myself on the mercy of the salesman at the store. He smiled and showed me a complete starter set -- one 15 gallon tank and everything else to get the aquarium going. "Do you need to clean this thing?," I asked. "Once a month," he said, "but you won't need to worry about that for awhile." "How about fish?," I responded. "Just get the tank going for a couple of days first."
Andrew's birthday arrived. We presented him with the aquarium tank and equipment sans fish. He was thrilled. I dutifully promised to put it together right away. Luckily, my father-in-law Ron, an experienced aquarium owner, was there to help. "What are these plastic tubes for," I wondered. "Filter -- you need to filter the water and it's an air tube," he said. "Oh," I muttered. Ron helped me start putting things together, but we stopped half way when it was time for cake.
One week went by. The aquarium sat in our basement, dry as a bone. Two weeks went by. Andrew asked, "Dad, are you going to put my tank together." "Yes, Andrew, this weekend." During week three, a friend visited with her kids. While they played in the basement, Andrew showed her the half complete aquarium. "Where's the fish?," she asked. "Haven't gotten around to it yet," I replied. "Yeah. I know how that goes." She took an old fish sculpture we had lying around the basement and stuck it in the tank. "See, now you can pretend."
The truth was I didn't know what the heck I needed to do to finish the project. Somehow, Aqualand didn't sell instructions when you bought the starter set. I looked at the collection of tubing and boxes without a clue. Finally, after nearly a month, I got up the nerve to finish. But first I called Ron. "Could you walk me through this again? There are these plastic tubes" "They connect to the air pump," Ron said. "Is that the black square looking thing?" "Probably. Does it have a power cord sticking out of it?" "Yes," I responded "That's the pump," "Oh." I replied,"I thought I was supposed to stick it at the bottom of the tank." "Not a good idea," said Ron. Later that evening, Jodi returned home from a meeting. "I'm almost done with the tank," I proudly called up to her from the basement. "It's about time," she called back.
The next morning, before Andrew went to school, I showed him the functioning tank. "Great, Dad. Where are the fish?" "We'll get them in a few days at Aqualand" And, a few days later, we actually did. Satisfied with my accomplishment, I thought, the fun father and son bonding would now begin. This would be "our" project. This morning, we fed the fish. "Isn't it cool?," I mused looking at the tetras darting for food. "Yeah, Dad. Cool." We sat for a few minutes in the basement, father and son, gazing together at the tank. Then Andrew interjected, "Dad, it gets boring watching fish. I'm hungry for breakfast," and ran upstairs, leaving the tetras and I staring at each other.
If there is a single fish or aquatic-related supply that does not exist in Aqualand's inventory, I doubt it's legal. Want tetras? They've got a dozen different varieties. Looking for that special piranha for your annoying neighbor? Come on down. Are your angel fish picky eaters? More food choices than an Old Country Buffet.
Now, I must explain that I have zero experience dealing with aquariums. Growing up, my family had the occasional goldfish in a bowl. Most were usually temporary residents in our house. Once in awhile, my dad would clean the bowl. Occasionally, I would even remember to feed it. Then, on some Saturday morning, one of us would come downstairs to the dining room and find the poor thing belly up. Last rites were said and then the deceased was sent to its final resting place in the New York City sewer system.
A few days before Andrew's birthday, Jodi and I journeyed to Aqualand to scope out the prospects. Faced with the reality that I needed to learn about aquariums quickly, I did what any dad would do. I threw myself on the mercy of the salesman at the store. He smiled and showed me a complete starter set -- one 15 gallon tank and everything else to get the aquarium going. "Do you need to clean this thing?," I asked. "Once a month," he said, "but you won't need to worry about that for awhile." "How about fish?," I responded. "Just get the tank going for a couple of days first."
Andrew's birthday arrived. We presented him with the aquarium tank and equipment sans fish. He was thrilled. I dutifully promised to put it together right away. Luckily, my father-in-law Ron, an experienced aquarium owner, was there to help. "What are these plastic tubes for," I wondered. "Filter -- you need to filter the water and it's an air tube," he said. "Oh," I muttered. Ron helped me start putting things together, but we stopped half way when it was time for cake.
One week went by. The aquarium sat in our basement, dry as a bone. Two weeks went by. Andrew asked, "Dad, are you going to put my tank together." "Yes, Andrew, this weekend." During week three, a friend visited with her kids. While they played in the basement, Andrew showed her the half complete aquarium. "Where's the fish?," she asked. "Haven't gotten around to it yet," I replied. "Yeah. I know how that goes." She took an old fish sculpture we had lying around the basement and stuck it in the tank. "See, now you can pretend."
The truth was I didn't know what the heck I needed to do to finish the project. Somehow, Aqualand didn't sell instructions when you bought the starter set. I looked at the collection of tubing and boxes without a clue. Finally, after nearly a month, I got up the nerve to finish. But first I called Ron. "Could you walk me through this again? There are these plastic tubes" "They connect to the air pump," Ron said. "Is that the black square looking thing?" "Probably. Does it have a power cord sticking out of it?" "Yes," I responded "That's the pump," "Oh." I replied,"I thought I was supposed to stick it at the bottom of the tank." "Not a good idea," said Ron. Later that evening, Jodi returned home from a meeting. "I'm almost done with the tank," I proudly called up to her from the basement. "It's about time," she called back.
The next morning, before Andrew went to school, I showed him the functioning tank. "Great, Dad. Where are the fish?" "We'll get them in a few days at Aqualand" And, a few days later, we actually did. Satisfied with my accomplishment, I thought, the fun father and son bonding would now begin. This would be "our" project. This morning, we fed the fish. "Isn't it cool?," I mused looking at the tetras darting for food. "Yeah, Dad. Cool." We sat for a few minutes in the basement, father and son, gazing together at the tank. Then Andrew interjected, "Dad, it gets boring watching fish. I'm hungry for breakfast," and ran upstairs, leaving the tetras and I staring at each other.
Friday, October 13, 2006
Oh, Grow Up
Back in 1986, Janet Jackson released her breakout album, "Control". I remember it well -- I was a sophomore in college at a party one night and "What Have You Done for Me Lately?" popped out of the stereo. "Control" was one of the biggest sellers of the period and, to my mind, one of the best pop/dance/r&b albums of its time. Tight production by Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis. Tough beats. Impeccable pacing. What more could you ask for in the 80's.
Flash forward to 2006 and Jackson has just released her new album, "20 Y.O" (or "20 Years Old"). Yes, it has been 20 years since "Control" dominated the charts. (Hard to believe.) And here we have Jackson at 40 ready to take on the pop charts again. It's been a rough couple of years for her -- what with the infamous "wardrobe malfunction" and the fizzle of her previous album, "Damita Jo". (Oh, you didn't realize she released an album last year. Well, neither did most folks and, frankly, it was a dud both critically and in sales.)
Now, I confess that I generally have liked Jackson's albums over the years. No, they don't stretch the mind, but they usually have some of the most consistently enjoyable dance tracks in pop ("Damita Jo" notwithstanding). So, last week, I eagerly listened to "20 Y.O", hoping to be transported back to pop dance heaven. She opens the album with the promising announcement that "she just wants to have some fun." In the first lines of the first track, "So Excited", she offers to open her "spot" for me and let me "act bad." Hmmm. This theme continues all the way through to the last track, "Love 2 Love", in which she ends with the opportunity to let me "have her way with her" and make her "my slave." Hmmm again. (Okay, maybe these tracks weren't specifically directed at me, but, hey, a guy can dream.)
However, somewhere in the middle of all this, maybe about the time she declares that it's 7 AM and about the time to do it again ("Enjoy"), something started to creep me out. Here's Jackson, basically repeating the same dirty talk over and over again. (I don't object to the come on, but it does get a bit monotonous after awhile.) Here she is on the CD jacket, looking today exactly like she did in 1986 with a montage of photos of her from the past 20 years. And then, I think, wait a minute, isn't this woman 40 years old and isn't it 2006?
And then I realized what this was all about. Here is Janet Jackson, queen of pop/dance from the late 80's and early 90's, and now she's going to do it like the young girls do. That's fine as far as it goes -- and I know women enter their sexual peak in their mid-thirties, so she has lots of time left to enjoy herself -- but this all seems kind of limited.
Part of getting older is reconciling who you were in the formative years of young adulthood with who you are now. It's not always pretty, but hopefully, upon reflection, you realize how much you have grown and changed over the years. Think of it, besides the fact that your body didn't jiggle as much, would YOU really want to be 20 all over again? I mean, all of the self-knowledge, relationships, and twists and turns over the intervening time must have have taught you something, right?
Now, I don't begrudge Jackson's enjoyment of the pursuit of sex and I hope she's having a good time, but, really, has she learned nothing in 20 years? Here we have Jackson as female Peter Pan. And, frankly, after awhile, that gets kind of boring. I mean, what do you talk about after the next orgasm?
I don't expect Jackson to suddenly get all meaningful and middle-aged on us. I just wonder why she feels the need to play in this ballfield. Why continue the same old stereotype that you have to look and act 20 years old to have all of the fun? Even Madonna, that other big diva of 80's pop stardom, switched gears when she reached her forties. You may not love the earth mama, kabbalah purveying philospher that she has become, but at least you can see the evolution.
So, maybe, in the end, I'm not in Jackson's demographic any more. (I knew she'd dump me for a younger man.) But, after a few listens of "20 Y.O", the only thing I had to say is "Janet, grow up."
Flash forward to 2006 and Jackson has just released her new album, "20 Y.O" (or "20 Years Old"). Yes, it has been 20 years since "Control" dominated the charts. (Hard to believe.) And here we have Jackson at 40 ready to take on the pop charts again. It's been a rough couple of years for her -- what with the infamous "wardrobe malfunction" and the fizzle of her previous album, "Damita Jo". (Oh, you didn't realize she released an album last year. Well, neither did most folks and, frankly, it was a dud both critically and in sales.)
Now, I confess that I generally have liked Jackson's albums over the years. No, they don't stretch the mind, but they usually have some of the most consistently enjoyable dance tracks in pop ("Damita Jo" notwithstanding). So, last week, I eagerly listened to "20 Y.O", hoping to be transported back to pop dance heaven. She opens the album with the promising announcement that "she just wants to have some fun." In the first lines of the first track, "So Excited", she offers to open her "spot" for me and let me "act bad." Hmmm. This theme continues all the way through to the last track, "Love 2 Love", in which she ends with the opportunity to let me "have her way with her" and make her "my slave." Hmmm again. (Okay, maybe these tracks weren't specifically directed at me, but, hey, a guy can dream.)
However, somewhere in the middle of all this, maybe about the time she declares that it's 7 AM and about the time to do it again ("Enjoy"), something started to creep me out. Here's Jackson, basically repeating the same dirty talk over and over again. (I don't object to the come on, but it does get a bit monotonous after awhile.) Here she is on the CD jacket, looking today exactly like she did in 1986 with a montage of photos of her from the past 20 years. And then, I think, wait a minute, isn't this woman 40 years old and isn't it 2006?
And then I realized what this was all about. Here is Janet Jackson, queen of pop/dance from the late 80's and early 90's, and now she's going to do it like the young girls do. That's fine as far as it goes -- and I know women enter their sexual peak in their mid-thirties, so she has lots of time left to enjoy herself -- but this all seems kind of limited.
Part of getting older is reconciling who you were in the formative years of young adulthood with who you are now. It's not always pretty, but hopefully, upon reflection, you realize how much you have grown and changed over the years. Think of it, besides the fact that your body didn't jiggle as much, would YOU really want to be 20 all over again? I mean, all of the self-knowledge, relationships, and twists and turns over the intervening time must have have taught you something, right?
Now, I don't begrudge Jackson's enjoyment of the pursuit of sex and I hope she's having a good time, but, really, has she learned nothing in 20 years? Here we have Jackson as female Peter Pan. And, frankly, after awhile, that gets kind of boring. I mean, what do you talk about after the next orgasm?
I don't expect Jackson to suddenly get all meaningful and middle-aged on us. I just wonder why she feels the need to play in this ballfield. Why continue the same old stereotype that you have to look and act 20 years old to have all of the fun? Even Madonna, that other big diva of 80's pop stardom, switched gears when she reached her forties. You may not love the earth mama, kabbalah purveying philospher that she has become, but at least you can see the evolution.
So, maybe, in the end, I'm not in Jackson's demographic any more. (I knew she'd dump me for a younger man.) But, after a few listens of "20 Y.O", the only thing I had to say is "Janet, grow up."
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
It's Morning in America - Part 1
Scene: 7 AM, weekday, my house
Mom: (upstairs) Go downstairs and start breakfast, Andrew.
Andrew: (upstairs) No, Mama, it's dark down there.
Dad: (upstairs) Andrew, put the lights on.
Andrew: (top of the stairs) That means I need to walk in the dark to the light switch.
Mom: (walking by) Ethan, go downstairs with your brother and keep him company.
Ethan: (looking sheepishly down the staircase) I'm not going. It's dark down there.
Andrew: Don't worry, Ethan. I'll protect you.
(Andrew scurries back to his room. Ethan waits tentatively at the top of the stairs.)
Dad: (walking downstairs into the dark) Oh, for crying out load, someone just turn the lights on!
(Andrew returns to the top of the stairs, brandishing both a crucifix and a magic wand.)
Andrew: Okay, Ethan, if anything happens, I'll turn them into a frog.
Life is interesting sometimes.
Mom: (upstairs) Go downstairs and start breakfast, Andrew.
Andrew: (upstairs) No, Mama, it's dark down there.
Dad: (upstairs) Andrew, put the lights on.
Andrew: (top of the stairs) That means I need to walk in the dark to the light switch.
Mom: (walking by) Ethan, go downstairs with your brother and keep him company.
Ethan: (looking sheepishly down the staircase) I'm not going. It's dark down there.
Andrew: Don't worry, Ethan. I'll protect you.
(Andrew scurries back to his room. Ethan waits tentatively at the top of the stairs.)
Dad: (walking downstairs into the dark) Oh, for crying out load, someone just turn the lights on!
(Andrew returns to the top of the stairs, brandishing both a crucifix and a magic wand.)
Andrew: Okay, Ethan, if anything happens, I'll turn them into a frog.
Life is interesting sometimes.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
And Now for Something Completely Different
The experience of parenting is fraught with many challenges. If anything will ever teach you to practice flexibility and patience, it's raising kiddies. To wit, the unscheduled day home with a sick child.
Last night, my younger son, Ethan, limped around like a lost puppy and fell asleep before dinner. When we roused him, it was clear he was hot, tired and pretty out of it. A quick bite to eat, a hurried undressing and redressing in pajamas, a dose of ibuprofen. and off to bed he went at 6:45 PM. At approximately 4 AM (I say approximately since I was too bleary eyed to get a fix on the clock), Ethan emerged, climbing onto our bed. He was hot as heck. Half awake and somewhat goofy, I scrounged up some more ibuprofen and a cup of water. I gave him the meds and whisked the little guy back to his room. It was at that moment, standing in a darkened hallway in my t-shirt outside Ethan's bedroom, that I realized my plans for the day had changed. Thankfully, this is a fairly slow time in my world, so I could cancel stuff without too much disruption. (Job flexibility is key here.) Of course, Ethan woke up, happy as a clam and ready to conquer the world. Except he still had a fever. So, more medicine and here's to a "Daddy/Ethan home day."
Now, these unscheduled days are a bit of a conundrum. The chance to spend time with my son, by himself and without his older brother, is an unexpected gift. And, thanks to the miracles of modern technology, I can check e-mail and voice mail remotely and no one would be worse for wear. But it's these surprise downshifts (unforeseen and without much warning) that make parenting a challenge. The lesson: whether or not you are ready to conquer the world today, all expectations, in the end, must yield to a preschooler in flannel pajamas.
Last night, my younger son, Ethan, limped around like a lost puppy and fell asleep before dinner. When we roused him, it was clear he was hot, tired and pretty out of it. A quick bite to eat, a hurried undressing and redressing in pajamas, a dose of ibuprofen. and off to bed he went at 6:45 PM. At approximately 4 AM (I say approximately since I was too bleary eyed to get a fix on the clock), Ethan emerged, climbing onto our bed. He was hot as heck. Half awake and somewhat goofy, I scrounged up some more ibuprofen and a cup of water. I gave him the meds and whisked the little guy back to his room. It was at that moment, standing in a darkened hallway in my t-shirt outside Ethan's bedroom, that I realized my plans for the day had changed. Thankfully, this is a fairly slow time in my world, so I could cancel stuff without too much disruption. (Job flexibility is key here.) Of course, Ethan woke up, happy as a clam and ready to conquer the world. Except he still had a fever. So, more medicine and here's to a "Daddy/Ethan home day."
Now, these unscheduled days are a bit of a conundrum. The chance to spend time with my son, by himself and without his older brother, is an unexpected gift. And, thanks to the miracles of modern technology, I can check e-mail and voice mail remotely and no one would be worse for wear. But it's these surprise downshifts (unforeseen and without much warning) that make parenting a challenge. The lesson: whether or not you are ready to conquer the world today, all expectations, in the end, must yield to a preschooler in flannel pajamas.
Monday, October 09, 2006
Waiting for the Tsunami
Ever since the Mark Foley scandal broke over a week ago, pundits and commentators have been predicting that the 2006 election will represent some vicious backlash against the Republican Party for their years of mismanagement and corruption as the majority party in Congress. I certainly hope that the Republicans get their due this fall -- they've been playing the values game for so long (and co-opting Democrats in the process) that it has been a delicious turnabout to watch them run and hide while revelation after revelation appears about Foley's "naughty" e-mails. (Since when asking someone to measure the size of their penis was just "naughty", and not pornographic, is beyond me.) But I think some risks remain for Democrats regardless of the goal line fumbles committed by the party in power.
Here are some thoughts in the form of questions to a hypothetical Democratic candidate:
1) What do you stand for? - Let's talk in the language of values and how your actions have been consistent with those values. I know we all can say we value a strong educational system or want to protect the environment, but, to quote Janet Jackson, "what have you done for them lately." And more specifically, how is past performance indicative of future results?
2) What will you do when you get there? - Or as my wife says, "What's the plan, Stan?" It's not enough to say you aren't like the other guy. The other guy may be a thief, a liar, a hypocrite or just misguided. What I want to know is how you plan to deal with the pressing problems of our (fill in the blank - state, country, etc.)
3) What do you see as the biggest challenges to success? - Identifying what the central challenges are will give me an idea of where you intend to focus when you get in office. Give me some sense you have thought about how your plan could fail and what you intend to do to make sure that doesn't happen.
Here in Minnesota, it looks like Amy Klobuchar will walk off with Mark Dayton's Senate seat, barring any last minute catastrophe, surprise or "naughty" e-mail. As a woman and Democrat in a state that, for all it's now vaunted swing-ness, still has some semblance of progressiveness left in the body public, this would seem to be her year. As for the governor's race, Tim Pawlenty is locked in a virtual tie with Mike Hatch. Neither of these guys is my favorite politicians, but given the damage caused by Pawlenty to education and his complete abdication of responsibility on transportation, I'm ready to fill in the oval for Hatch hoping that he is less of a psychokiller than he's been at times as attorney general.
For all of these folks, and the competitive House and state legislative seats, I think it's critical that Democrats offer a positive vision for what they intend to do if/when they win. Otherwise, the tides of change will wisk them out to sea not long after their comrades across the aisle this fall.
Here are some thoughts in the form of questions to a hypothetical Democratic candidate:
1) What do you stand for? - Let's talk in the language of values and how your actions have been consistent with those values. I know we all can say we value a strong educational system or want to protect the environment, but, to quote Janet Jackson, "what have you done for them lately." And more specifically, how is past performance indicative of future results?
2) What will you do when you get there? - Or as my wife says, "What's the plan, Stan?" It's not enough to say you aren't like the other guy. The other guy may be a thief, a liar, a hypocrite or just misguided. What I want to know is how you plan to deal with the pressing problems of our (fill in the blank - state, country, etc.)
3) What do you see as the biggest challenges to success? - Identifying what the central challenges are will give me an idea of where you intend to focus when you get in office. Give me some sense you have thought about how your plan could fail and what you intend to do to make sure that doesn't happen.
Here in Minnesota, it looks like Amy Klobuchar will walk off with Mark Dayton's Senate seat, barring any last minute catastrophe, surprise or "naughty" e-mail. As a woman and Democrat in a state that, for all it's now vaunted swing-ness, still has some semblance of progressiveness left in the body public, this would seem to be her year. As for the governor's race, Tim Pawlenty is locked in a virtual tie with Mike Hatch. Neither of these guys is my favorite politicians, but given the damage caused by Pawlenty to education and his complete abdication of responsibility on transportation, I'm ready to fill in the oval for Hatch hoping that he is less of a psychokiller than he's been at times as attorney general.
For all of these folks, and the competitive House and state legislative seats, I think it's critical that Democrats offer a positive vision for what they intend to do if/when they win. Otherwise, the tides of change will wisk them out to sea not long after their comrades across the aisle this fall.
Greetings from the North Star State
As a newbie to regular blogging, I wanted to take this opportunity to introduce myself. There are many things that can describe me -- lawyer, father, spouse, Quaker, counselor, Italian-American, community member, lover of good music, bicycle rider, amateur guitar player, progressive (in the political and social sense), poet, native New Yorker now living in Minnesota. I wanted to write this blog as a forum for my various ruminations on life, culture, politics and the state of our world. As a member of Gen X (and as someone who is staring down his 40th birthday in the headlights next year), I think I can offer the perspective of someone who has lived on earth long enough to have seen some things before, but not so long that I've become jaded by them.
Thanks for stopping by and I hope my entries reward your time and provide some food for thought.
Thanks for stopping by and I hope my entries reward your time and provide some food for thought.
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