Response to the Prom

That was the title of the piece buried in the back of the first section of our newspaper. Here is the original article posted to their local newspaper.

The brave girl, who took on the local school district and won, is a lesbian who just wanted to attend the prom as herself. In a tuxedo. Prom dresses and tuxedos are de rigeur, for proms, aren't they?

The school board told her she couldn't. Then she sued for discrimination and won.

Now the parents are unilaterally scotching the prom. They are refunding the other couples' money. Just like that; it's over.

In case you think the girl is simply looking for her fifteen minutes' fame--you know, the one promised by Andy Warhol:

The girl, Constance McMillen, asked for and got only what she wanted: the decisions and court costs.

Now the parents have organized their own private prom, designed to exclude the sort of people they don't like. Sound familiar? This sort of thing happened when the bigots decided they didn't want anyone but Caucasians to attend.

The new bigots, of course, are now what we used to call homophobes.

Heaven forbid there should be more tuxedos than prom gowns at their little social! Then life surely would be out of whack.

First it was people of color, now it's alternate lifestyles. What or who is next? They will find something to make them feel superior, you can bet on it. A bigot needs to exclude someone, or they can't face their puny little selves in the mirror. The new bigots are just old bigots who lost the earlier battles.

Please God: don't let the bigots win this one.

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Little Pond

Finally back to business.

I am back to my usual shutterbuggery, even daring to go out alone to the Chemung.

Also, check out the new header, courtesy of Digital Karen, my very own blogsis, at the MS Companion!

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Little Pond

Look towards the light!

Step-granddog Jake, left, and the HuggaMutt Ellie bask in the warmth of an open door. The sunlight makes them sleepy and quiet. Not their usual.

Spring is on the way, folks.

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Little Pond

Any help?

An earthquake shook Chile earlier this morning, with its epicenter 250 miles below Santiago.

Our Brian Alegria, our foster son, lives in Valparaiso, closer to the coast. My brother-in-law's family, his mother and siblings, also live there.

The last I heard, there were 78 dead in Chile and the first tsunami has already hit.

At this time they called off the tsunami alert.

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First Crawl

Update: I finally gave up on trying to get Blogger to accept this video. Webshots (and Facebook, for that matter) had no trouble at all.

Overly-cute-ness alert! On the other hand, it's not even two minutes and full of baby chortles.

The seal pup.

Wish I could find a way to get it to my parents, who refuse to get a computer...

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Little Pond

Midwinter thaw 2010

As much as I love to see the river flowing again, I can't help but remember that these presage scary days for those who live where there are no levees to protect themselves from the Chemung.

These massive blocks can clog narrow channels and cause flooding. Right now, though, they provide a lovely haven for waterfowl seeking a sheltered area for the night.

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Little Pond

Happy Holidays to all.

A very special Christmas photo, featuring Granddaughter Violet and older daughter MamaDog playing SantaMom. Love to all!

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Little Pond

Bubba Says:

No snow here in Elmira, NY, but it's too cold outside. Stay in and stay warm!

Ellie still wants out, though, and we got our eagle!

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May we keep them, please?

Wandering with Ellie Saturday. She's been a bad girl, and must now stay on leash, at least until she learns to come, stop, stay, et cetera, all over again.

So she was pulling me merrily along the bike trail on Foster Island, when she stopped and refused to lead. I tossed her back in front and told her to go ahead.

Yup, that's a real command. I need her to be able to lead: to pull, actually. She reluctantly began to move slowly along the shoreline, with me tottering among the skinny trees and slippery leaves.

I was dumbfounded when I first saw it:

Ellie stopped directly on command and waited.

Girl, do you see that? Let's go in for a closeup:

We swung around the windfall mess that clogs the "pond." Sure enough, there is no mistaking a beaver lodge. And the chews, fallen trees and even scat all around would attest to the size of a beaver, not just a cute little muskrat.

Will the Water Board or Department of Environmental Conservation allow them to stay?

My camera will be loaded and ready for my first beaver in the wild shot from now on!

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Little Pond

Unexpected bonus

...of being willing to walk the frosty wet river bank after the snow. Naturally I bundled Ellie in a sweater and scarf, while I wore my winter walking coat and heavy headband.

Freezing temps prevented me from taking many shots, but when I saw this beauty, I forgot the cold and zoomed in for a photo. A pileated woodpecker.

This bird is half the size of Ellie. About two feet tall. Completely untouched photo. Double click to blow it up. We never got closer then about the full length of a football field.

Very gratifying.

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Fall back this weekend.

Ellie and I enjoyed our visit to the river today.

Enjoy

I also did a little alone stuff, while she hunted on Foster Island.

Tonight we will set back the clocks to gain an extra few weeks of sunlight in the morning. Sounds good to me; I am tired of waking up to the bleak blackness.

Good news! We expect to be completely laid off this summer. I am more than ready; the commute is killing me. Gannett will move us to our temporary quarters in November.

Frankly, I don't care where we work. Just let's get it over with. It's been a miserable half year. We have adjusted, but don't like it any better than before.

I want out, and I'm getting out in another ten months.

Enough said.

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Little Pond

I miss my blogs.

We are just about seven months into my new lifestyle. I am chronically tired, because now, for the first time since MS entered my consciousness, I cannot rest at midday.

My car went the way of my naps, and I now own a Malibu. Definitely not the end of the world, but not my style. Between the car payments and the huge gasoline consumption, we have no cash for anything, and no longer pay down our debts incurred from raising teenagers. The banks raised the apr's on anything and everything they could. We barely make minimums, and we buy only food.

We are now unable to maintain our home as we should. The paint never went on the outside, and the roof will not see new shingles anytime in the foreseeable future, whether I do the work myself or not. Our walkways are literally crumbling into rubble.

Yes, I looked into early retirement, but the 401K was ravaged by the crash on Wall Street, and is only now beginning to make its excruciatingly slow recovery. And of course, there is the debt. I had figured two to three years to clean it up. Now it is anybody's guess. Certainly not two to three years.

In eighteen months my job will have flown to Michigan. Is it Michigan? I don't remember, and it is irrelevant. Too far to commute from Upstate New York.

I had planned to write my books and my blogs when I retired from the paper. Now retirement from the paper will be a ticket to a parttime job somewhere closer to home. If work is actually available, then even that will be a blessing. Right now, there is no work, no advertisements, nothing but a very slow increase in the highly specialized jobs that disappeared in the crash.

Yes, I am lucky to have a job. I reach into the attic for old clothes to alter when anything I wear is totally worn out or just ruined. The laugh's on me. I was skinnier in the waist until I turned fifty. Now middle-aged spread makes most old clothes unsuitable for me. Ironically, my hips are thinner than before, so everything fits everywhere except at the waistline.

No time to walk the river on weekdays; I spend at least eleven hours of every work day in Binghamton or on the road commuting. This too, will increase; our offices will move just before Thanksgiving, and will add 15-20 minutes onto my commute. If I hear one more person tell me that "that's not bad, just a few minutes more," I will slap whomever it is. One minute more than my hour and a half commute is just too much to contemplate.

I've already had an exacerbation. Very short, just a day or so, but terrifying. My sight went completely out of whack, enough so that I wondered if I were having a mini-stroke, like my Dad had a few years back. Just once, thank the powers that govern the universe. Again, one too many.

I want to blog, I want to write, and I want to walk the river. But after each work day, I am too tired, and the weekends are only two days.

Photo of the week

Daddy Darrell can always make Violet smile. Real smiles of recognition. Best milestone yet.

Sorry if you're disappointed

But the Riverhag has been busy visiting with the GrandKid on weekends. These are our holiday shots of the Chemung. Go to the RiverDogging link on the side for more low river shots.

As for those who want more baby photos: maybe tomorrow.

Off to Binghamgton.

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Little Pond

Stereotypes will out, sometimes.

Yeah, the only time I post now is to put up yet another batch of baby pics.

Lucky I have time for that, these days. Back to work tomorrow.

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Little Pond.