I Would Be Remiss…

I Would Be Remiss…

I just wanted to formally congratulate Monsieur Colbert on his Emmy win for outstanding writing.  

Let us not forget that Colbert’s victory is all the more poignant considering the tricky highwire act that he had to do while the writers’ strike was going on.  (During that woeful time I mused on his comedy in this wistful article on Bread and Circus Magazine.)

After what seemed like an interminable black-out on both the Daily Show and the Colbert Report, what a relief it was when Colbert finally returned to his anchor desk. I’m sure we are all in awe of what he was able to accomplish in his nightly ad-libbing; extreme improv to say the least.

We should all remember to salute Colbert for his integrity and dual sense of duty to his viewers and staff when he returned to the air. He never let it fade that—even as he was performing—his writers were outside picketing and going without pay and respect.  And, at the same time, he kept us illuminated about the machinations of Washington with his priceless, improvised wit. 

Monsieur Colbert, sir, you are truly an Emmy winner and a gentleman. Congratulations on both.

Impresaria or Imposter? Aren’t we all…

Impresaria or Imposter?  Aren’t we all…

Staying on the topic of Sarah Palin—if I can realistically count my glasses post as an article—I’d like to comment on Judith Warner’s latest article on “Poor Sarah” in the NY Times (9/25/08).  

In reading her op-ed, Warner made me realize that my already confused stance on Feminism is actually more muddled than I thought.

Where to begin?  

I am a child of the Seventies.  That puts me in the strange position of being a “second wave feminist”—one who has the luxury of reconsidering our “gains” in society and culture from a liberated foxhole (or “DFP” for you military buffs).

I have a product-of-the-late-Sixties mother who worked part-time as an executive secretary during my childhood.  It seems most period career choices for women back then consisted of housewife, teacher or secretary.  So, as a result, my mom was “mainstream”.  While she worked, I was cared-for by my grandmother who came of age in the Forties.  Unlike my mother she neither had a degree, nor could drive a car.  

Even as I child I saw advantages and disadvantages to both of these lifestyles.  My mother was independent, mobile and able to spend her own money.  I might add that she was also seemingly forever stressed-out and/or suffering from headaches.  To the contrary, my grandmother was tied to her house and had little disposable income, but she made her own schedule and had lots of fun teaching me how to cook and keep house.  From that early age it seemed to me impossible that women could be both a successful careerist and available caretaker.  It took a village.  Or, at least two women.

And, here’s where Warner comes in.  

What a provocative idea Warner has, that one could feel sorry for Sarah Palin as a well-kempt working mom who began to wilt under the glaring media- and international spotlights.  Warner perceives Palin as a sister-sufferer of imposter-syndrome.  (Is there anyone who hasn’t yet suffered from, or at least heard of that phenomenon?)  As evidence of Palin’s professional-woman’s strained survivalist-instincts, Warner notes Palin’s slumping posture, impossibly-perfect hair and nervous tics (the folded-hands-on-knees and deer-in-the-headlights look) during her visit with Henry Kissinger. Warner exudes compassion for this girlfriend out of her depth.  

I suppose that we women could feel empathy for Palin.  We’ve all met smarter people, or been put on-the-spot in a high-pressure situation.  Might Sarah Palin be a hapless victim? A woman put in the precarious position of Veep candidate by the irresistible, synergistic forces of an enticing career move and her own hubris?  

But, this scenario would assume that Palin was circumspect enough to realize that she’s out of her league.  After all, she could cry “Uncle!”  Or, “I want to be there for my kids while they’re small.” And we’d all understand.  But, we all know she won’t.  She won’t admit that she’s “just one woman”.  One woman without the credentials necessary for the job she’s applied for.

In a sense the problem is that Palin is just like any other person.  (As she loves to admit with her small-town, hard-working rhetoric.) In fact, like most people who are unqualified for something due to a lack of gifts or experience, she just don’t see it that way.  After all, it takes gumption to say you’re focused on education to Katie Couric’s face when—in actual word and deed—you despise intellectual pursuits.  (In this regard she sounds mightily like our intrepid former National Education Secretary, William Bennett, who spent the other morning on the Today Show bashing intellectuals.  Fine sport for a Ph.D. in philosophy.)  

Fortunately, in the real world, when people without credentials apply for management positions their cv never gets past the door.  Unfortunately, in this election year, a desperate, eager-to-reinvent-its-image GOP was not beneath finding a pliable and perhaps gullible “hick chick” for its ticket.  Not kosher, no matter how classically good-looking she is.

At this point you might well ask what my life is like.  Do I work?  Yes.  Do I have kids?  Yes.  Am I, therefore, in taking Sarah Palin to task somewhere between deeply conflicted and suffering from split personality disorder?  Absolutely.   Every day I question whether or not I am doing either of my vocations (maternal and professional) well.  And, I have a sneaking suspicion that most women are in the same rickety boat.  Unfortunately, as a post-modern woman I remain compelled to do both.  And, that’s why I can fathom why Warner’s feeling sorry for Palin.  And, yet, my platonic intellect tells me that Palin is not up to the task of world leader.  (Never mind the our polar opposite political stances…)

Couldn’t we at least get someone who knows why being an “elite” is a good thing?  Even Martha Stewart understands that one…

Through His Glasses, Smartly

 

Through His Glasses, Smartly

Has anyone else noticed that Stephen Colbert recently exchanged his glasses for a new pair?  A pair eerily similar to those worn by McCain’s running-mate?  

I can’t remember.  Did it happen right after the Republican convention?  (Somebody cue up footage before and after to check…)

Oh, you naughty, naughty Monsieur Colbert….(Chesire grin.)  Now, every time I watch you on your show I have to giggle when I think about that unmistakeable joke that you’ve placed between us—there on the impeccably aquiline bridge of your nose. (Aquila, of course, being Latin for Eagle.)

Really.  How can I take you seriously when you’re dressed as Arctic G.I. Jane?  In drag?!

You’re too much!  And, just because of it, you always make my day. :)

Thanks.  I needed that.

“Mr. Francoeur was a Good Man”

“Mr. Francoeur was a Good Man”

All the despairing talk of the financial markets has brought memories of my grandparents’ stories flooding back.  As a child I spent many hours with my Mèmére and Pèpére, my paternal grandparents, who babysat for my sister and me.

My grandparents used to regale us with how difficult life was for them growing up during the Great Depression.

My Mèmére explained how her mother occasionally had to make extreme decisions in order to keep their home afloat. For example, because her husband was sickly, my Grandmèmére (great-grandmother) had to work long hours at the factory just to support herself and her husband.  She couldn’t afford to feed her kids regularly, let alone hire daycare.  This meant putting my Mèmére and her three siblings into an orphanage for extended periods until she could catch up. 

My grandfather’s family was larger – they had ten kids – so, you can imagine how much scarcer money and food were in that house.  My Pèpére told me about what his siblings did for fun, including taking old wood and boxes to make sleds in the winter. As he used to say, they had to “make their own fun”.

My Pèpére also used to like telling us about Mr. Francoeur.  And, he always used the same line: “Mr. Francoeur was a good man.”  (This is the same way he used to talk about FDR.)  Though he was not a national figure, Mr. Francoeur was famous in his own corner of the world.  He was the neighborhood baker in my grandparents’ French-Canadian neighborhood in New Hampshire.  As my grandfather explained, Mr. Francoeur made special arrangements for folks who couldn’t pay their weekly bread bill.  Mr. Francoeur would treat each customer as an individual; he would let them pay what they could each week, but always let them take home the bread they needed to get by.  If the neighborhood families couldn’t pay at all, he started a running tally, looking ahead to better days to come. That bread was their lifeline. Literally.

These days, I’ve been wondering how folks in dire straits have been faring here in the US.  Though we haven’t hit rock-bottom with the financial crises, many people are suffering.  Childhood poverty, the use of food banks and soup kitchens are on the rise here in Massachusetts, as it is most other places around the country.  This is a new phenomenon to the baby boom generation.  By and large my parents’ peers, post WWII, grew up in an unprecedented time of economic growth and job security.  Those I know never dealt with the penny-pinching and hard times that my grandparents grappled with.  Though I sincerely hope that we don’t face another Great Depression in my lifetime, I’m starting to wonder if I’m going to have that in-common with my grandparents. All current indications seem to be pointing in that direction.

It does makes me wonder, too: Are there any Mr. Francoeurs in the world today? Though I never met him, I feel like I know him.  And, I’m so thankful for his generosity to my family in hard times.  I will be keeping his memory alive into the next generation, to my kids, as an example of common decency in a world blighted by blind greed.  In a way, we’re only here because of him.

Mr. Francoeur was a good man.  Indeed.