Raleigh

There are all kinds of dads, that is for sure. I know that millions of people have grown up successfully despite some fathers who were less than perfect. Even if 'perfect' is something we should even look for in a dad, which I doubt. Mine was less than perfect, but better than some. Maybe not many, but some.

Raleigh Evan Hamby died on 27 April 1963. He was 43 years old. It was his choice. I was 12. I was also relieved. Not something you want to feel when you're not old enough to process why feeling that way about your father's death could possibly be okay.

Being a child in my father's house was a giant pain in the ass. I couldn't bring friends home, because he might be drunk. Sometimes, even that didn't keep him from embarrassing me, because he'd often come to my school, looking for me. I don't know how she knew he was coming, but Ethel Torbett, the formidable principal of Guyton Elementary in Detroit, Michigan would be waiting for him in the doorway of the school. She was probably in her 60s, her gray hair in curls on top of her head, tall, broad-shouldered and big bosomed, a black dress that went almost to her ankles, shit-kickin' old lady shoes, and pearls. Before he got there, if there was time, she'd send someone to my classroom to fetch me and whisk me down to the nurse's office, where I'd hide. From my own father.

On the morning I returned to school after the funeral, Mrs. Homeir, the vice principal, fulsome, sanctimonious, saccharine - and the recipient of a bad red hair dye job - flew from her desk behind the counter to embrace me. "Oh, my dear," she exclaimed, "you poor thing!" Pulling back from her pink flower covered dress, under which I'm sure she wore one of those cone-shaped 50's bras the boys loved to look at in the Sears & Roebuck catalog, I tried to wrestle out of her grasp. "How on earth did your daddy die so young?" I panicked. How was it that she had not heard? What would I say? What could I say? I swallowed. I stared at her. I played for time. "Car wreck," I stammered, and out the door I ran. It was not a complete lie. My daddy had died in his old beat up car, but sitting, parked, in the garage out in back of our rented two flat. When I had awoken on Saturday morning, and no one was home, I walked into the kitchen, looked down into the back yard, and saw my mom surrounded by several Detroit policemen.

Look, I know that everybody has a story, and mine's no worse, and a whole lot better, than millions. There are kids who are starving right now. Kids in the middle of war. Kids whose parents are crack addicts. I loved my pain-in-the-ass dad. He was smart, and funny, and terribly sad. He was also an alcoholic, a bigot, a tragic southern boy, and a product of his time. He was a combat veteran of WWII, and when he lost his own dad when he was the same age as I was when I lost him, learned a trade so he could help support his mother and siblings.

So, I celebrate my dad this Father's Day. He gave me some life lessons that are hard to beat. I'm a better person for having been his daughter.

Well crap...now what?

So Obama, my Man of the Century, has gone and congratulated the owner of the Philadelphia Eagles for giving Michael Vick "a second chance." Never has a human being (sic) less deserved any kind of a second chance, much less a multi-million dollar one to play a fucking game. If MacDonald's hired him, maybe. I suppose I could go along with that kind of a second chance, or cleaning toilets in an office building maybe, but NFL hero? I don't care how well he plays, he's a debased monster.

So, I have some thinking to do about Obama. He's not the man I thought he was. I'm thinking about erasing current events and politics from the list of things I care about. It seems that, with each passing day, I care about less and less. Until we get to the dogs. Dogs will always be on the list.

Upon calling someone out for calling her 'Ellen Degenerate'

He said he called her Ellen Degenerate in jest. Someone else called ME out for making a fuss, saying it looked like I thought all gay people should get a free pass. I'm thinking that that response means that HE wants a free pass, to bully gays.

I don't believe anyone deserves a free pass. Who first called Ellen by that name? Jerry Falwell. So, I think he meant it in a decidedly derogatory context because he was so anti-gay, anti-"other". I think that, when you put something out there, you color the conversation. People are naturally going to think that you think Ellen's sexuality is perverse. Degenerate means what it means. That said, apparently she doesn't care, because I just went back and read an interview with her in Time magazine in 1997. She had just come out. The interviewer told her what Jerry Falwell had said and she said she'd been called that since 4th grade. It probably was just a play on her name, the way litltle kids do with everyone's name, but in light of recent suicides,I think we would call it bullying today. I'm not sure it IS bullying, but, because of the pc wars of the 80s and 90s, that's the label I think we'd probably give it now. I think political correctness is a pain in the ass, but I'm old enough to remember when people could say ANTHING THEY WANTED. Men called me "honey" and pinched my ass when I started working. They don't get to do that anymore (not that they'd want to do that to me now) because we swung the pc meter around to the other, extreme, end to balance things out. Same thing with entitlements. We put the opposite end of the fairness meter into play to bring everyone onto the playing field. It seems unfair to white people when a black person gets a job they want, but "thems the breaks". It swung the other way so long, we have to do something to allow everyone to catch up with one another.

I'm sorry y'all..I just can't stand Paula Deen!

I wonder why I, a nice Southern girl who loves to cook, can't stomach Paula Deen. Everybody else seems to love her. It would appear that much of her bubbly, oh-so-southern, pecan-pie sweet personality emerges when she's fully made up, because I saw a video of her supposedly going into a gym for a workout and she was remarkably subdued. She was also without the spackling of makeup that she generously applies for her t.v. show. And that accent! Is it real? I think she practices at home.



I'm sure she's a very nice person but honestly, that just doesn't come across. She is tediously vivacious and chatters on, saying nothing of substance. She's like so many of the other televised chefs, Emeril and that awful Brit who yells at everybody. That awful chick who's so popular, what's her name? You know who I like? Lydia. Now there's a woman who just talks simply and plainly about the task at hand, the food, and the tastes. And Chris Kimball on America's Test Kitchen. Just cooks the food. Or rather, has his cooks cook the food. And Nigella Lawson! Was there ever a more divine cook? She cooks gorgeous food, she has a dreamy voice, and that British accent..well, she's just perfect in every way.



We southern girls have been taught to say only nice things about people, or just be quiet if we can't. I should have spared Paula but I just had to speak out. I mean, she's just a mess, bless her heart.

My Dog Ralph

My dog Ralph is an amazing dog. Fourteen years old last month, he's recently been diagnosed with blood vessel cancer, is severely anemic, is probably suffering from internal bleeding, and can't walk worth a damn - bad hips, bad knees, arthritis. But, he is still beautiful. And he is still willing to try to walk, sometimes even without the aid of a harness, and he loves to eat! My boy Ralphie will probably not be around in a few days, but, until he tells us he wants to go, we'll give him sardines and fresh raw salmon, two of his favorite treats, and bask in the glow of his undying love for us.

So, here's what I hate about the Jesus Freaks. Let's say you lose a loved one to cancer, or whatever. You pray and you pray to spare the life of this loved one, but the answer, obviously, is "No" because said loved one passes on. The Jesus Freak then praises Jesus for, oh I don't know, 'sparing' the loved one further suffering, or knowing that it was the loved one's 'time.' Then, friends rally around to help and they say, "I'm so sorry for your loss" and they're answered with, "We know where he is and we'll see him again." So, your condolences get short shrift and, in fact, you're embarrassed to have said anything. So, you go ahead and do what you can for your friend, because you're worried that he/she is lonely, sad, something, and you want to help. As your friend moves forward with his/her life, you admire him/her on the one hand because Jesus really seems to be keeping them afloat, and yet you know it's all hogwash, so it's hard, but you just smile and say, "I'm happy you're happy," or "I admire your strength." Just because they believe in something you do not - and you understand this on an emotional level if not an intellectual one - does not diminish the fact that they are sustained in grief in a way that you are not. So, you might be a little envious as well. But not enough to buy the bullshit. So, you receive a letter from your friend which they've sent out to all their friends, extolling the virtues of their new found peace and thanking - not the recipients of the letters, but Jesus - JESUS! for all the help he has provided in the past months. It occurs to me that the only thing I don't like about being an atheist is that, when we are all dead, I won't be able to stick out my tongue and say, "See? I told you so!"

Here is a note I received today from a woman who needs to get rid of her dogs:
If anyone knows of anyone interested in adopting 2 dogs pls let me know. As many of you know, we are moving in just 2 weeks. Unfortunately, I have still not been able to find a good home for xxxx and xxxx. We're not able to take our beloved doggies with us and I've been desperately trying to find a home for both of them 'together'. They were raised together and pine without each other. The Lab rescue has already said that they would probably separate them, so this is my last resort. xxxx turned 3 December 10th and xxxx will be 3 April 1st. xxxx is my mellow-yellow, and just loves her tummy rubbed. xxxx is adorably funny and lives for her "ball". She also loves the water..... xxxx loves lots of attention. Both doggies are loyal and love to walk. They have been raised with my 3 kids running around all over the place, and have survived xxxx constant hugging and love of 'dress-up', so they are fantastic family dogs. This is by far one of the most difficult decisions I have ever had to make, but under the circumstances I have no choice. Please, please forward these pics to all you know and help me find a great home for these fabulous doggies. They are just adorable and it's heartbreaking to let them go. In a perfect world, I hope that we could find someone local so that we can still keep in touch and visit them. I pray that someone somewhere can help us keep xxxx and xxxx together, and love them just as much as we do. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart.

I changed it around a bit to suit myself.
If anyone knows of anyone interested in adopting 2 KIDS pls let me know. As many of you know, we are moving in just 2 weeks. Unfortunately, I have still not been able to find a good home for OUR KIDS. We're not able to take our beloved CHILDREN with us and I've been desperately trying to find a home for both of them 'together'. They were raised together and pine without each other. The ORPHANAGE has already said that they would probably separate them, so this is my last resort. Recently I tried to take MY DAUGHTER out in my car alone and she TOTALLY refused to even get into the car without HER BROTHER.....!!!! She absolutely pulled back on her haunches until HER BROTHER was by her side. Both KIDS are in great health, have HAD ALL THEIR SHOTS and have ID chips implanted under the skin. MY DAUGHTER turned 3 December 10th and HER BROTHER will be 3 April 1st. MY DAUGHTER is my mellow-yellow, and just loves her tummy rubbed. HER BROTHER is adorably funny and lives for his "ball". He also loves the water..... he loves lots of attention. Both KIDS are loyal and love to walk. They have been raised with my 3 DOGS running around all over the place, and have survived THE DOG'S constant hugging and love of 'dress-up', so they are fantastic family KIDS. This is by far one of the most difficult decisions I have ever had to make, but under the circumstances I have no choice. Please, please forward these pics to all you know and help me find a great home for these fabulous CHILDREN. They are just adorable and it's heartbreaking to let them go. In a perfect world, I hope that we could find someone local so that we can still keep in touch and visit them. I pray that someone somewhere can help us keep MY TWO KIDS together, and love them just as much as we do. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart.