It is every parent’s worst nightmare. You look or step away only briefly and suddenly your child is gone.

My son, Brock, was three at the time. It was a hot summer day and I had been watering the grass for most of the morning since we have a large yard sans an automatic sprinkler system. It was early afternoon when I realized I needed to turn the water off before getting him down for a nap. Intending to keep my mischievous toddler occupied and out of trouble while I briefly went outside one last time, I got him situated with a snack at the kitchen table.  I went out, turned off the hoses and within minutes came back in fully anticipating a big mess and a little boy to be right there waiting for me.  Yet upon my return to the kitchen the mess was the only party present.  A little surprised, although certainly not alarmed, I initially walked from room to room calling his name. No answer. I went upstairs and repeated the same. Still no answer. Puzzled, I raised my voice and began a more thorough search. He was no where to be found. Apparently the little stinker had slipped out the back door while I was out front.

My level of concern heightened–as did my heart rate–as I ran outside to search our yard, the garage, and the wooded area adjacent our house.  The neighborhood was dreadfully quiet since everyone was retreating indoors due to the current heat wave.  Therefore, Brock’s presence in the immediate vicinity would have been conspicuous.  It was clear that he was neither within sight nor ear shot. My mind began racing, fathoming any and all directions in which he could have wandered. Aside from a road where traffic flies by at 50+ mph, our neighborhood is flanked by several acres of private land brimming with creeks and wildlife.

My search was getting more frantic when a neighbor appeared whom I enlisted to help keep an eye out for him.  I then thought of two nearby homes he might have wandered to, so I immediately proceeded to option #1.  Nobody home.  On to the second possibility.  They had not seen him but offered to help in the search.  As we were hollering for Brock and discussing where he may have gone, it became increasingly difficult not to let the growing knot in my stomach get the best of me.  So with about 15 minutes of elapsed time since he had gone missing–and having two additional adults also unsuccessful in finding him thus far–all evidence suggested he was not within the boundaries of which I could assume he was safe.  I was no longer able to fight off the worry and began pondering all the things he could be encountering without anyone there to protect him.   Just as I was on the brink of going into panic mode and making the dreaded call to authorities, a light bulb went off.

I immediately thought of Pavlov’s theory.

Just as Pavlov’s dog repeated a conditioned response to the sound of a bell, so does my son.  Only in this case it’s the doorbell, and instead of salivating at the sound of it, it is the act of racing to the door to ensure he reaps the glory of being the first to discover who is on the other side.  His response is so immediate it’s apparent that this stimulus triggers an automatic reaction:  doorbell = run.  If, by chance, he was in the house, this would surely lure him out if hiding.

I went to our front porch, rang the bell and held my breath.  Within seconds I heard the eager pitter-patter of little bare feet on hardwood floors getting closer and closer until he swung the front door open.  Flabbergasted, I cried out, “where have you been??  I have been looking EVERYWHERE for you!”

He looked up at me, shrugged his shoulders, and quickly retorted, “well, you didn’t look under your covers!”

There’s no sense in beating around the bush: I’m scared. As in genuinely nervous and fearful regarding the direction of this country. Considering our current economic state I suppose almost anyone could rightfully make the same claim; yet for me, the fear that Sarah Palin could very well be the Commander-in-Chief of this nation in the not-so-distant future supercedes our present day recession. I admit I have spent the greater part of my life politically apathetic. I didn’t follow the elections all that closely, nor did I watch the televised debates thoroughly or even gave much credence to what the media was buzzing about. That is, until now.

Although I’ve been leaning towards Barack Obama for a while, I still didn’t feel a great sense of urgency regarding the election until McCain made his infamous VP selection of whom, contrary to popular belief, is no Mary Magdalene. Granted I have never been her #1 fan, but the more I learn about her and the more I see of her, the more red flags that begin to wave and the more my instinctive alarms go off. For Palin, people, is nothing more than a polished poisonous apple.

Honestly, I have not heard one positive thing this woman stands for. In fact, she evades answering questions like typhoid fever. Anyone who is naive enough to think she makes a good candidate because she is an unseasoned, “six-pack Joe” is a bloody fool. It takes a lot of manipulation tactics to be as evasive as she is and who is better suited to grandstanding than a politician? It doesn’t take several terms as Senator to develop these skills; for some, it just comes naturally.

She has complained about how much Katie Couric annoyed her because she claims Couric was trying to “trap” her into being straight-forward. She has misquoted and misinterpreted Madeleine Albright to insinuate that any woman who does not vote for her is going to Hell. She has flat-out stated that instead of answering interviewers questions she wanted to talk about what the Americans really care about, which in her professional opinion–is bashing Obama. She ignored Gwen Ifill, the moderator of the vice-presidential debate, continuing on with her own selfish agenda.

Sidestepping the whole issue that I firmly believe in the separation of church and state, a distinction that she clearly seems unable to recognize, this woman, who wasn’t even a terrific governor of an underpopulated state, has absolutely no business being in the running in the first place. Anyone with a lick of sense knows she was chosen solely as a publicity tactic and not for merit, credentials or experience. Her loyalties do not lie among the people of this nation–that is more than evident! She has but one goal and two strategies to get there. Realizing that she actually has a shot at becoming this country’s first female VP and possibly first female president, her eyes are fixed firmly upon the white house as she eagerly licks her chops.

To anyone who reads between the lines (as we all should do before casting a vote in an election as important as this) her strategies are as obvious as her aspiration. Her first line of defense to avoid giving concrete, credible answers is to create a diversion by slewing verbal arsenals at Obama with any means necessary. The reason is obvious: when you lack any merit by which to elevate yourself, you must tear your opponent down.

Her second gimmick to fool Americans into forgetting her deficits is attempting to create the illusion of some great alliance by affiliating herself with the country’s “everyday” citizens. If she is such an average Joe who understands and empathizes with the plights of the people, why, praytell, is she against women’s rights? Why is she against abortion, yet simultaneously against programs to help the impoverished, such as young, unwed mothers? WHY are women in the state she governs forced to buy their own rape kits? Does this sound like someone who really gives a God-forsaken damn?

So what, she’s attractive. She goes to church. She’s a mom. The last time I checked these weren’t valid qualifications to run the United States of America! For crying out loud, if we think George W. Bush is a joke this woman is the punchline! She simply can not be trusted and she is using the aforementioned qualities to her benefit to paint a superficial appearance for which to hide the manipulative and selfish person residing within.

Contrary to what you’re probably thinking, I would not go so far as to classify myself as a democrat. While I do share more of the liberal ideology, I readily admit many of our systems need serious reform. Yet, under no circumstances do I want our country to take two steps back for every one we’ve taken. As much as I would like to see a woman in power, it must be the right woman. One who advocates justice, progression, and social values. Most importantly, one with integrity.

Sources:
(A thank you to Pentad’s blog which led me to some of these links.)

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2008/10/03/palin-on-fox-news-couric_n_131655.html

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2008/10/05/ifill-palin-blew-me-off_n_132028.html

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2008/10/05/palin-misquotes-albright_n_131967.html

So my trip to Paris was awesome. Not a whole lot of shock-value in that statement.

Yet slightly more dramatically (had I been told during the first two days of the journey that I would someday make the following declaration I would have figured that either myself or the deliverer of said message was tripping on acid or some other powerful hallucinogen), I would go as far as to say (and stone sober, mind you) that my time in Paris, albeit my only solo expedition to date, was not only my most memorable vacation but one of the greatest times of my life. The experience was flanked with brief but distressing adjustment periods (strangely, I again suffered culture shock upon returning home) but it was the many wonderful days in the middle that made all the difference in the world.

To briefly emphasize the benefits I reaped before referencing a less cheery affair, Paris provided me with a much-needed change of scenery, pace and emotional climate. It provided me the chance to reclaim my identity and, for the first time in a while, I genuinely cherished the joy of living. I returned with renewed energy, insight, and perception. Most importantly, it gave me the time and space to replenish what had become a desperately starved and malnourished entity: my spirit.

Pity I just had to spend five soul-sucking days at the beach with my mother.

My mother who, nearly always driven by egocentric motives, imposes her disguised negativity anytime things aren’t going precisely the way she thinks they should. Now, don’t get me wrong, she’s as pleasant as a peach when she wants to be and she tries very hard not to be blatantly biting with her words (which are often under the breath utterances). Rather she is insidious like a poisonous snake slithering in the tall grass, donning what I call “the look” and waiting until the right time to strike using the mental inventory she’s taken. The Look is usually not made with direct eye contact; it’s simply a judgmental expression of such disgust and disdain that it manages to drain the recipient of all self-worth and value. Yet if anyone were to confront her about these things she is always equipped to cover her tracks with a reserve of manipulative tactics ranging from changing her obvious intent to flat-out lying about things she’s said or done.

Needless to say, my trip to the beach wasn’t all that beachy.

In conclusion, my voyages within the last month–the first to Paris, the second to the Outer Banks (which encompasses the graveyard of the Atlantic)–should be aptly memorialized as
the treasure and the shipwreck, respectively.

Hell, you didn’t think I chose the title for this blog out of thin air, did you?

Firstly, I’d like to settle one issue: No. I don’t actually speak like that although, admittedly, coming up on my 5-year anniversary living in North Carolina I do occasionally draw a word out longer than it needs to be, blushing immediately at the realization (and horrified that it seems to be happening more and more all the time).

Secondly, I’d like to thank the few who still check back occasionally to make sure I haven’t fallen off the face of the earth since I have had too much going on to dedicate the time I’d like to writing, leaving large, ugly gaps between posts.

Thirdly, I felt like sharing that I have just returned from a very dysfunctional family vacation to the Outer Banks which included about twice as much family as I would have liked. Not only have I been having marital troubles as of late, but this voyage was a product of my susceptibility to my mother’s relentless pressure on me to commit to things she wants to do (and well in advance, mind you). Having only been home for approximately two hours and exhausted beyond measure, I am currently attempting a mother-detox, but there is a great deal of residual resentment that I am having difficulty in shaking. Oddly, I revert to an infant-like state in my ability to intelligibly and effectively communicate with that woman beyond the superficial level, and equally unfortunate, the stress I endure when in her presence inevitably turns me into the very type of person she loathes and already believes me to be. It is like some strange phenomenon where I allow her to create me into something to condemn and emotionally subjugate.

On the bright side, these issues may have inspired a whole new subject for me to lament about in my posts! The situation has certainly begged the question whether it’s possible that I’m just being overly sensitive and choosing to see the negative in people, although my original and more intrinsic belief is that I’ve been surrounded by many dysfunctional individuals for so long but finally see these relationships for what they are and have become extremely frustrated because the other’s aren’t interested in breaking the cycles. Therefore, I look like the “bad guy” for wanting–correction–needing change. Yet, when it arouses difficulties in multiple relationships at one time, it is easy for the others to perceive the problem lies in the individual stirring things up, as opposed to within themselves, no?

Could I be on to something or am I just crazy?

Here is the link to my Paris slideshow video from my recent trip. It’s best to view it in high quality and full screen. I had a lot of fun making it and think I’ve found a new obsession.