Follow the adventures of Connie Stetson, candidate’s wife, as she heads out on the campaign trail, once again…
Hi there. The lovely Mrs. Stetson here, and just returned from an event in one of our more charming off-the-beaten-path communities, El Portal. It was the annual Spring Fling in EP. A day of music, BBQ, beer, crafts, flea market, activists of all stripes, (GO No-Way Subway!!!), and the usual round-up of old friends, neighbors, conservationists, kids and dogs, and of course, the opportunity for a little campaigning, glad-handing, and baby kissing. Yes, dear readers, Lee is running for office again and I just can’t wait to dust off my pillbox hat and pearl button gloves.
A couple of weeks ago we had the dubious honor of attending the Republican Central Committee’s “Meet the Candidate Night” where we were regaled with each conservative candidate’s personal relationship with Jesus Christ. Why bother to call yourselves Republicans anymore? How about re-branding you as Christi-cans, or Republica-mentalists? It was fascinating, in a “can’t take your eyes off a train wreck” sort of way, to watch as each candidate for the Republican nomination for the 19th congressional seat vied for the title of the most conservative conservative, or the original conservative, or the most racist conservative, or the biggest sexual deviant freak conservative. Read more
On April 22, 2008, in “Entering the Blogosphere”, the very first Fifty is the New blog post, I wrote, “Will I have something to say as I am catapulted into the world of commentary, citizen journalism and navel-gazing? I continued with this pretty clever strategy, “For backup, I have enlisted the help of some articulate, powerful, funny, sexy and smart voices. Other women, friends of a ‘certain age,’ whose reflections make me sit up and take notice, wonder aloud, laugh, get enraged and engaged in life—mid-life.” Yes, quite clever, enlisting those women, if I say so myself…
Since that first post two years ago, a lot has changed. There were few blogs written by middle aged women back then, and now there are many. Baby boomers on Facebook? Not in 2008, when it was still an online campus, a collection of pimple-faced college kids and a few early adopters. In these past two years, we’ve put a new president in office, brought ecology back, and now there are more women over 50 smiling from the cover of magazines. (Hey Ellen! Lookin’ good)!
Melissa Howden explores the nature of faith and its attraction, hopes and painted prayers
I’ve got a thing for Faith – Faith, as in the word with the Latin root of Fidere meaning “to trust”. And then there is Faith’s friend Belief, which used to mean, “Trust in God”. For the longest time Faith was about a certain kind of loyalty or belief in a person. Somewhere along the line Faith took on the more religious connotation and Belief came to be understood as “mental acceptance of something as true.” Faith/Belief, the two together interest me. Not as a byproduct of organized religion but simply as something I rely on. Ironically I get particularly obsessed with Faith when it seems to be in short supply in my own life.
When I slip into a space of doubt I look to the faith of others. As a natural born traveler, I’ve had the good fortune to witness faith globally. Encountering someone in an act of private devotion always catches me short of breath and makes me cry. During these times I’ve started to recognize the nature of faith as active, action being critical to faith. At its core, faith is a verb, not a noun.
For Cathy Fischer, rudeness rears its ugly head and in some of the most unlikely places
Have you noticed lately that rude behavior has reached epic proportions? While Dear Abby and Miss Manners may have upped their game (they’re online after all), rudeness is still rampant. In twenty-first century America, hectic lifestyles, fractured families and ever-present technologies have enabled abundant opportunity for unconscious behavior, and frankly, I’m sick of it!
Case in point: The other day I was coming home from a lovely walk. Tra la la, it’s spring and I am in a good mood! As I approach my building, I see “him”—let’s call him Nathan (because, that’s his name). Nathan is a skinny, pasty, nerdy guy, around 40-ish. His social skills are lacking. That doesn’t bother me, what does is that Nathan has BAD MANNERS, as illustrated by his next move. He steps up the pace and makes a beeline for the front door. I know he’s seen me, but he doesn’t acknowledge that, and he most certainly does not hold open the door; and then, like a mangy little squirrel, he scampers to the elevator, jumps in the moment it arrives, and makes sure the doors close before I can possibly stop him. His strategy works, and I am left in the dust of his scampering nerdiness. I am aghast!
Yo Nate! Did your mother raise you that way?
Back by popular demand… Spring springs eternal.
The contributors at Fifty is the New were asked to ponder the question, What does Spring mean to you? Find their odes to the season (in 30 words or less), and add your own definition of Spring below:
What does Spring mean to you?
Spring means the ancient part of my heart will soar again, overjoyed at the end of another winter and exultant at the promise of what is to come.
Gone but not forgotten: “Easter” vacation; white gloves in church; church; pastel dresses; rustling petticoats; thin, white bobby socks with lace edges; silly little purses with gold-tone snap closings.
Time to start anew. Raindrops on pavement, flowers in bloom; farmer’s market asparagus; the hibernation of winter clothes; Passover, Easter, and the symbol of rebirth: eggs. Read more