To My Troll, TwoBlack Jet:

My Mississippi Grandmother, Ida Mae and my Syrian Immigrant Grandfather, Charles
Brooklyn, New York
mid-20th century*

What was that you were saying, again, about President Drumpf's big heart?*

My tiny little mother mind™ wants to know.


Sincerely,

Elizabeth


P.S. After this weekend's hideous anti-Muslim executive orders and the installment of Iago*** in the National Security Council, Drumpf has proved himself to be heartless in addition to incompetent and megalomaniacal. I am not as much scared as enraged, and when I'm enraged, it's best to write. It's hard otherwise to make sense of this man destroying so much in only nine days.







* The picture of my grandmother and grandfather above is one of my favorites. My grandfather was a Christian Syrian from Homs and immigrated to the United States in the early part of the twentieth century with his family. While I realize that were he to do so today, he would actually be admitted to the country because of his religion, but I find it repellent that we, as a country, have gotten to the point where half of us have elected and continue to support a leader who is making a mockery of whatever ideals the country purports to have --  our country is after all, one of ideals and ideas, constantly dynamic and improved and improved. Messy and inclusive. We the people, etc.                                                                                    

**My troll, TwoBlackJet, asked me and other blog readers why we women marched the day after the inauguration and then engaged us in a sometimes amusing but ultimately frustrating conversation on the old blog. You can check it out by scrolling down to the post that has a bunch of comments, but you might want to pour yourself a shot of vodka, light up a joint or put on some music. When you're finished, I recommend a shower or some naked gardening.  If you don't have the time to waste, I'll just tell you that TwoBlackJet insisted that Drumpf has a big heart yet provided no details or examples to explain her/his/its convictions. While I understand it is the intent and nature of the troll to stir things up, I've seen similar comments and invective on conservative websites and social media threads, so I honestly DO want someone to answer these questions without doing what TwoBlackJet did which was to eventually go on a ridiculous personal tirade (provoked, I admit, by a condescending comment I made about her writing style -- a comment for which I made apologies)

***One of the blackest of hearts in Shakespeare is Iago from Othello whom I remember whispering evil things into Othello's ears. While I don't at all believe Drumpf to be an Othello, I do see his consigliere, Bannon, as a sort of Iago, twisting a naive and sick mind to bad. Whatever did happen to Iago, Reader? I can't remember.












#RESIST

Musing on a recent blogger quarrel --

The lady doth protest too much, methinks.

Shakespeare, Hamlet, Act III, Scene II

Small Stone 9

Clarence from Richard III, like you've never heard him

Thank you, Doug, for showing this to me!

My Bachelor of Arts in English Literature has been justified

Last night I had the unique pleasure of attending BARD and BUTTER, a play in the garden with entertainment by the Los Angeles Drama Club, touted as the youngest Shakespeare troupe in the country. A good friend gave me her ticket and got one for Oliver as he knew many of the actors, so we dressed up and went together. Oliver looked dapper in a collared shirt and loafers, clothes that my boys absolutely never wear out here in casual and sunny Los Angeles. We had cocktails in the garden of a beautiful historic building -- a Roy Rogers for Oliver and a delicious ginger syrup, lavender and soda water "Ophelia" for me and participated in a Shakespeare game. We wandered to different stations in the garden where incredibly talented children acted parts of the bard's plays, and we had to guess which ones, marking our choices on the map provided. Then we sat down and had a delicious dinner -- Oliver behaved like a gentleman the entire time, despite the fact that we sat at a table of elderly people, and I was reminded, again, of how grateful I am for my children, of what pleasures they are for the most part.


At the end of dinner, we stood to see how accurate our guesses were, and slowly people sat down, eliminated. Except for me and about six or so other people. We were then peppered with questions about Shakespeare's life and plays.

Did you know that I'm competitive when it comes to nerdy word games and in this instance, Shakespeare trivia?

Well, I am.

And guess what?

I was crowned Queen.

After a hellish week, I swear I almost wept with happiness. And it was sort of nice to have all the troupe actors kneel at my feet.