My mother has been living in Oregon for the past 7 years or so. That's where she's from (though born in another state.) Several generations of her family made their home in the lush, green foliage of the Pacific Northwest. Her husband retires at the end of this school year with 30 years of teaching under his belt. I've had kids for about 15 years. Two of them, total. He's had in excess of 100 kids a year... for THIRTY years. (Not including his own two kids, four step-kids, their spouses and five grandkids.) That's some long-term tenacity, folks.
His parents (who were also in Oregon) passed away recently. And in the last three years, the Arizona side of the family has grown by three. Three brand-new, precious, sweet-smelling, upchucking, laughing, powder-fresh, soft little grandbabies. Totally irresistible.
So, my mother packed up her entire house in a 26ft truck, a 16ft truck (with a boat hitched to the back) and a Prius (Did I mention two English Bulldogs in the back of said Prius?) with plans for her and Jerry to fly back and forth between now and the end of the school year when he will join her in AZ permanently.
The plan was thus: Two drivers per vehicle. My mom and I teamed up; my brother Chris with his wife, Jihae; and my brother Robert with his kamikaze friend, Jesse. We were going to leave by 9pm on Tuesday, Sept. 30th and drive non-stop to arrive sometime late on Wednesday, Oct. 1st.
The five of us flew out hella early on Tuesday morning and though we each could have had our own row, we ended up sitting together (in the emergency exit row for more leg room, of course) with Robert by the window, myself on the aisle, and Chris sandwiched between us with Jesse in front.
Somehow Chris and I ended up talking politics. To give some background, my brother is a Marine, (once a Marine, always a Marine) having served in crazy-ass countries across the globe, and having personally experienced atrocities of war and inhumanity that I cannot comprehend. He is now a police officer, where he is still exposed to a rather extreme side of human life.
I was a bit of a closet biology nerd and won the chance to sit in on an autopsy once. Facing death (even in a very controlled setting) was initially difficult. I became too scientifically and medically fascinated to get emotional or sick, so I imagine that my brother is able to face his own situations with the same amount of detached (almost clinical) objectivity. But it has to be a fine line to walk... the one of being compassionate without getting too emotionally involved. I can’t imagine how emotionally and psychological complex it is. Regardless, it is too disciplined a lifestyle for me.
I applied for a position in emergency dispatch once. I sat in and listened to an operator take calls. I got a feel for the job… and it was one that piqued my interest. The impersonal screen and the black and white text was enough detachment that I could see myself working successfully along that career track. But decisions I had made prior (like smoking weed and bouncing checks) meant I wasn’t even qualified to dispatch emergency responders from once place to the other. But I digress…
My brother considers me a Liberal. It's only fair, since I do check the box next to 'Liberal' on my MySpace and Facebook profiles. But in all honesty, I don't consider myself a full-fledged liberal. I've always kinda felt like a political mutt. My family is predominantly Christian, conservative, and Republican. My fathers family are mostly accountants or involved in elevated levels of ministry. I am the son of a preacher man's daughter, niece, sister, third cousin... and the list goes on. My brother Robert suggested I just go pick up the marriage certificate and he'd sign it for Jason and I. (My partner of 7.5 years... we are now technically common-law, having lived together in sin... or 'cohabitated' according to the state of AZ for 'in excess of 7 years'.) But I realized that if I was going to have my brother marry us, then I was going to take advantage of some of the whacky and outlandish crap I know he'd do... like marrying us in a helicopter (flown by my other brother Justin, perhaps?) or in togas on the beach in Mexico or in 1940’s Zoot Suits at a bar in Chicago. Or onstage.
I digressed again. Sorry.
In any case, my two younger brothers, my mother, certainly my father, and grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins will all be voting for McCain this election. Hey, we’re from Arizona, right?! (Gack.) The thing is… I hate getting into political debates with people. It makes me feel vulnerable. A political debate is a sneaky way of really digging into one’s personal beliefs and convictions. Now I’ll expose the heck out of a character in front of hundreds of people and I’ll do it with grace and eloquence. But when I’m confronted personally, I stammer and stutter and struggle with the English language. It’s not pretty.
My brother Chris is conservative. Compared to me. And compared to my brother, I’m very liberal. I know Christians that would consider my brother to be incredibly liberal. Just based on who he is and what he does.
*On a side note, I’ve been considering the moral and ethical dilemmas of being an ‘officer of the law’. Like have there been instances where there is question where the law of man has preceded the law of God? Aren’t there instances in which officers must act as ‘temptation’? What does that mean for a Christian cop? In following the ‘letter of the law’, how do you reconcile when the guilty go unpunished or the innocent continue to be victimized? I know… so many questions. In addition to the grilling of ‘How loud can I pump my car stereo?’ and ‘What’s the difference between crack and meth?’ and ‘What kind of strange/bizarre/intense situations have you been in?’ I don’t know if I could ever do a ride-along. It’s too intense for me. But I can listen to my brother’s adventure stories all the live-long day. I know storytelling. It’s what I do.
My brothers are all really phenomenal guys. They are good-looking, intelligent, witty, committed, sensitive, and gracious men. They love talking sports and numbers and the banter between them is always entertaining. I feel a little freakish when I’m with them sometimes, knowing that my life experience and exposure has been so vastly different than theirs. And that based on the knowledge and information I’ve processed and analyzed, I’ve decided that I don’t want laws that govern my body. Or my daughter’s.
I don’t prefer a leader who is better or more experienced in the ‘art of war’. I believe that there is a lot of money to be made from war and that our country has perpetuated the practice of outsourcing for as much possible gain, resulting in businesses and corporations making money by taking advantage of their workers AND their consumers. We are in debt to ourselves in amounts that are grossly disproportionate to how we live. We encourage domination and reform by force. I don’t believe in that.
So, why don’t I move to a sissy peace-mongering nation like Canada or Switzerland or Jamaica?
What? And leave my oh-so-lucrative stage career behind?
As far as national or state politics go, I’d like to see marijuana legalized and taxed already. Get half the Mexican cartels out of business in our country instantly and make three times the money off of it as you do on cigarette and gas taxes combined. We’ve chosen much more destructive means to profit economically as a nation. This one doesn’t include invasion, killing, intimidation or force. Use the funds to crack down on the meth problem that seems to be permeating the current generation. Fund youth programs focused on eradicating our gang problems. Hell, reintroduce the arts and music programs that encourage our children to create. Improve healthcare. Feed the homeless. Well, and if the government starting farming its own weed and marketing hemp as a valuable natural resource and substitute for wood and paper products, we’d create a shitload of American jobs now, wouldn’t we? And some poor single mom wouldn't be turned down for a job because she puffed on a joint that was going around her cast party 3months prior to her screening, testing, qualifying, and interviewing.
I’m not runnin’ around in rasta braids and my hippie skirt (yes, I do own one or two) burning my bra (I prefer the way my boobs look when they’re holstered), chanting with my picket sign, or smokin’ weed behind the local Cheba Hut or in the meditation circle under the big tree next to the college. (I’m making up these possible locations just based on where I live.) But I will vote for reform when it comes around for my opinion to count. Fine. Call me liberal.
But I do figure that politics is subjective. I’m liberal compared to what? Other liberals? Mmmmmnnnn… notsomuch. Compared to conservatives? Absolutely. Compared to Democrats? Maybe not entirely. It’s all subjective.
Merriam-Webster defines the ‘word’ liberal as this:
Main Entry: 1lib·er·al
Pronunciation: \ˈli-b(ə-)rəl\
Function: adjective
Etymology: Middle English, from Anglo-French, from Latin liberalis suitable for a freeman, generous, from liber free; perhaps akin to Old English lēodan to grow, Greek eleutheros free
Date: 14th century
1 a: of, relating to, or based on the liberal arts
So, based on this… I look up ‘liberalism’…
Main Entry: lib·er·al·ism
Pronunciation: \ˈli-b(ə-)rə-ˌli-zəm\
Function: noun
Date: 1819
1: the quality or state of being liberal 2 a:often capitalized : a movement in modern Protestantism emphasizing intellectual liberty and the spiritual and ethical content of Christianity b: a theory in economics emphasizing individual freedom from restraint and usually based on free competition, the self-regulating market, and the gold standard c: a political philosophy based on belief in progress, the essential goodness of the human race, and the autonomy of the individual and standing for the protection of political and civil liberties d capitalized : the principles and policies of a Liberal party
I don't prefer the #3 definition in that I might lack moral restraint... but I suppose my life experience could probably prove that I do, in fact, lack moral restraint in many areas. So, when my brother smirks and calls me a tree-huggin', art-lovin', hippie Liberal, I can't argue.
I guess I am.
I enjoyed debating politics with my brother and sharing what I knew of subculture and legislation. I loved hearing about his life, his job, and his passions. We didn’t get into any big religious debates, which is more along the lines of what I expected from this trip with both him and my youngest brother (‘The Minister’)… Duhn..Duhn..Duhnnnnnn….. but that will probably come with the next adventure in which we find ourselves reunited again and in the same general vicinity for more than an hour or so.
And so it was that 1/2 of the current ‘Watson brood’ ended up in breezy, chilly, overcast Oregon on Tuesday morning. Ready to test our navigation, our driving skills, our patience, our determination, and the effectiveness of canine sedatives… all with the added pressure of sleep-deprivation, doggie farts, separation anxiety, dead batteries, and Jesse’s driving. (Someone had to take the pressure off of Chris.)
Casualties:
A few items left behind (including the dog’s water bowl)
A small tear in the boat cover
(Unknown whether there was any damage from shifting contents in the trucks, but I’m hoping not.)
Mom’s wallet (lost somewhere between the last gas stop in Blythe and home)
Assets:
All 6 persons and both dogs arrived unharmed.
The boat is still intact.
Remember when I said we'd make it into Phoenix by 9pm?
Praise LJ!! (Liberal Jesus.)
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