lumière des étoiles

Who wants to be the hugger?
2006-03-21 10:51 p.m.

Mom told me the other day that when she watches my niece and nephew occasionally, and she happens to be there when it's bedtime, my nephew asks "Will you hold me?", as he's falling asleep.

It's cute, adorable, and endearing, since he's three. I only hope that impulse in him, to ask for what he needs, to know and recognize what he needs in the way of human contact and reassurance, stays with him forever. But I have to sigh knowing it won't, knowing that soon this twisted culture will convince him that vulnerability is wrong, that asking for help is a sign of weakness or a character flaw. I'm afraid that because of these twisted things we teach especially boys, that ability to recognize what he needs and to respond to it will grow dull and disappear. Maybe it won't. I hate it when I play Debbie Downer.

Why I'm thinking about this so much, I don't know. Oh wait, I know - the president's absolutely pathetic and disgraceful news conference today. But wait, I'll tell you how I really feel! It's bad enough we've all had to endure the crap policies that have at best strained or (more likely) permanently damaged our relationships with other nations and have only served to help the good ol' boy network grow richer and more powerful, profiting off of the death and poverty that things like war and unemployment have brought. But now: we turn to Iran, and hear that they're a "major threat", and blahdy-bladhy blah? Is he kidding? Are they going to start the process of selling us a war now? Is that supposed to help his .0006% approval rating? Did his country music-writing friends tell him they needed new inspiration for their "patriotic" songs about beating up Muslim people? Believe me, I'm no liberal sucker: Ali Khamenei and Mahmoud Ahmadinejad are big turds just like W and Tony Blair. And worse - they're inflaming everyone, practically inciting the West at times to, I'm sure, galvanize the support of their own people and their own agendas (smart! worked for Hitler). But doesn't this sound all too familiar? I felt W today, saw where he was going - his scrunchy little face, straining to make connections where none existed brought me right back to 2002.

So does W just need a hug? Was dad not around enough? Would whoever was babysitting him, unlike my mother, not jump at the chance to snuggle with him as he fell asleep? I feel bad for him, really I do - there's obviously something that explains that deer in headlights stare of inadequacy and fear - but I'm not down with someone playing out their daddy issues on the global stage.

I'm not going to insult people's intelligence by saying this is about power, since - well duh - it is. But why so much power? Why at such expense? And why, when we've done such a bang-up job in Iraq, would certain parties be pushing for Iran? Yeah, those guys suck. But perhaps we should try something different this time? But then we'd be learning from our mistakes. And who the hell wants that? Bring on the country songs.

I didn't mean this piece to be so - grrr. Really, I didn't. I'm just counting the minutes now before I can watch The Daily Show make fun of Bush's news conference (etc.), and I guess I'm getting anxious. I'm dying to see whether or not they mock his nonresponse to the question of whether or not the apocalypse is coming at that other event he made a shambles of today (I forget where he was - sorry). I mean really - the question went something like this: "Do you feel the war in Iraq and (something else horrible) are signs of the Apocalypse, like some of the members of your religious community?". Guess what? HE DIDN'T SAY NO. I don't know about you, but I usually close the door on those people when they ring the door bell at 8 am on a Sunday and try to sell me their books about the second coming of Jesus. I guess I never thought one of them would become president. Two more years of this? Really?

I cringed the other day when I thought of that long two years. I was doing some research for an article on Mukhtar Mai, a Pakistani woman who was "sentenced" to rape - punishment for her 13 year old brother's "crime" of flirting with a 28 year old woman. Yes, I'm serious. A tribal council ordered that Mukhtar be raped, and since tribal councils have settled disputes for centuries in those rural communities, the edict was upheld. The men and the community at large were scolded later by the local imam, and that's probably as far as this travesty would have gotten. But a regional reporter happened to be around, so the story got leaked to the national press, then Al Jazeera, and then the story was everywhere, internationally, in days. Long story short, Mukhtar Mai went public quickly, speaking out about something considered to be shameful in her culture (a woman who has been raped is a shame to her family and is unmarriagable; a woman who is unmarriagable may as well not exist) to try and protect other women from similar fates. She set up schools for girls and has been working hard to bring down a justice system that perpetrates human rights violations and violence against women. But when she was invited to the US by a rights group to speak, W's good buddy Musharraf made damn sure that Mukhtar couldn't leave her house, let alone get out of Pakistan to come to the US. Eventually, groups (no thanks to W and the like) forced the Musharraf's hand and got Mukhtar out, but not before Musharraf said "you just can't trust these women. They frequently use such stories just to visas." Whores! Harlots! Indeed - why wouldn't a woman want to stay in lovely rural Pakistan? Why on earth would she take advantage of her rape-victim status just to flee the country? That lucky bitch. And what picture do I happen to stumble upon after I dug up the Musharraf comment and the info on Mukhtar? W & Musharraf holding hands, or something. AFTER the comment. Which he still hasn't apologized for. And this is some time ago. Is that what W means by "a culture of life" that he's so goddamned determined to protect? Like I said - two more years? Maybe they both need hugs. Everyone needs a freakin' cuddle.

I'm not cranky. I'm really not. I really did have a good, restful break. I worked on my application for the Global Affairs Doc program. I worked on a few articles, and had lots of fun goofing around with Nicole in our pursuit for vintage cocktail dresses. We hit the motherload, by the way - though I won't say where (come on, a girl has to have her secrets). We found a particular Salvation Army store somewhere in our great state of NJ, and in the back of the shop were tons - no joke - of 50's, 60's, 70's era dresses, replete with real metal zippers, hook-and-eye clasps, and tulle, in pretty good shape. Nic bought a brown one with a big bow at the waist and a crinoline underskirt. I bought a very Jackie O two piece - a shift over-coat and very shapely and streamlined mini to match. I also had to buy a few other pieces that I have no idea when I'd ever where, but hey, for 15 bucks, you wouldn't pass them up either. We're shopping for the Breakfast at Tiffany's cocktail party Nicole is throwing this weekend. I will actually be wearing my mom's velvet cocktail dress from - 1958? - after I repair it a bit, but when I was along for the ride with Nicole, I just had to buy those other dresses. Had to! Oh no! Is this a new hobby? Ack! I guess it's a cheap and fun one. Besides, it's about time I got a weird streak - I've been teaching college for a while now. I'm past the newness enough now that I'm supposed to be entering the quirky zone. Should I start wearing those long, 70's Peter Max acid-trip print dresses to class?

I'll let you know how the party goes. And if you have any vintage cocktail glasses, come - and bring the glasses. I guess you can stay, too. But only if you're dressed like James Bond or Miss Moneypenny. Nicole and I have Audrey Hepburn covered.