959 Tinker Tinker little Stat

There was an AP Story reported in today's Wall Street Journal that will have the economists and feminists rewriting the stats.

"A white woman with a bachelor's degree typically earned nearly $37,800 in 2003, compared with nearly $43,700 for a college-educated Asian woman and $41,100 for a college-educated black woman, according to data being released Monday by the Census Bureau. Hispanic women took home slightly less at $37,600 a year.

The bureau did not say why the differences exist. Economists and sociologists suggest possible factors: the tendency of minority women, especially blacks, to more often hold more than one job or work more than 40 hours a week, and the tendency of black professional women who take time off to have a child to return to the work force sooner than others."

They've even suggested that hiring incentives may have something to do with it.

I expect no protests on the campus by the women's studies department.

958 Don't know, don't care

That's a bit cavalier for a librarian to say about why children are hanging out at the library. At least these days. I'm guessing she'll bring that entry down soon. Librarians are already under fire for their snippy attitudes on filters to protect children and the Patriot Act. If you've ever been at a public library after 3 p.m. or on a school holiday, you'll see unattended children. Some are well behaved and quietly doing homework; others doing mischief and playing on the computers. Sort of free daycare by careless parents. I also see creepy adults I wouldn't want to sit next to. Some libraries in NJ, according to Conservator, consider unattended children under 6 as abandoned.

I just checked our county database for sex offenders in the library's zip code.

957 The Dream

If I can remember a dream, it is usually so fractured it is not worth repeating. The dream that woke me up this morning was a doozy, worth recording in my diary.

I was walking in a park in the dark when I saw what looked like an old 19th century bottle on a ledge, so I stepped off the path to retrieve it. When I picked it up I realized I couldn't get back up to the path, very wet and slippery, and besides the bottle half full of water looked like a fake. After some struggling and wiggling in the mud, I got back on the path and went into a restaurant which became a Bob Evans. I realized sitting in Bob Evans that I was in the wrong restaurant to meet my friend Adrienne. I left and got in my car and drove south on Olentangy (should've gone north). Realizing my mistake, I got on Lane Avenue heading west but ended up in a grassy field with no road. I looked at the houses lining Lane, and they didn't look at all familiar.

I saw what looked like a construction site, so I got out of the car. I walked around some large equipment and buildings and encountered some men talking about photographing the president. There were 2 doors in the main building and I saw a woman in a nice brown tweed pantsuit go upstairs through the one door. I figured she might be the secretary and wondered why she was so nicely dressed to work in such a shabby building. I went in the other door to ask for directions and a phone. A man, white-haired, about 50, was talking to someone, so I went outside to look for my car, but it was gone, and I also realized I didn't have my purse with the keys. I went back into the office and the man was leaning on the window taking photos with the most elaborate camera I'd ever seen. He was photographing the bubbles made by the rain on the window.

Finally, I get to tell him I'm lost. He explains that I'm not lost, I'm in the wrong century. That the president they were talking about is in the 22nd century (he called it the third century) and that people make this mistake all the time. They will either send me back to the 21st century, or they can bring my husband forward in time to join me.

The woman staffer (in brown tweed) then comes in the room with a small spiral bound book of photos of food (I was apparently to select something for dinner). I saw cole slaw and ham salad and remarked that things hadn't changed much in the third century and then I woke up. (I've never cared for science fiction.) I was on the couch; it was 5:20 a.m.

C-SPAN was broadcasting a meeting of photographers of the president. A noisy rain was hitting the windows. Beside me was a book about a 19th century ship that goes down in a hurricane and the recovery process of the ship and all the passengers' personal items. I'd had clam chowder and crackers for supper last night with various spreads including ham salad, and a very spicy creamcheese mix with salsa. It was Monday and I was supposed to meet Adrienne at the coffee shop (not Bob Evans) in an hour.

956 A quiet Easter

We had no one to spend the day with today, our daughter and son-in-law drove to Cleveland to spend time with his terminally ill mother and they ate at the nursing home, and our son had other plans. After church we enjoyed a much too big breakfast at First Watch.

But we had a wonderful Sunrise service at our church (and the sun was actually shining when we drove there) and were blessed to be the communion servers. I was a little nervous when we first volunteered for this, but now that I've done it a few times I can't think of anything I've done in recent years at church about which I've felt better. Having grown up in the Church of the Brethren where communion was a twice a year solemn service with a meal, foot washing and wearing a prayer covering, I had a bit of a struggle shifting my focus from something we the believers do to something God does. I remember when we took instruction in 1976 our pastor told us we could argue about anything we wanted (how well he knew me!), but Lutheran baptism and communion were not up for discussion and if I had doubts, I shouldn't join.

Then this afternoon we went to see "Finding Neverland" the movie about James Barrie the author of Peter Pan. Johnny Depp plays Barrie and we thought he did an outstanding job--actually all the cast did. If you haven't seen the movie yet, do go. It will restore your faith in the film industry. I hadn't read the reviews before we went, but checked them when I got home, and they were all A or A+.

955 Colorado Blogging

Twylah, who blogged at Lutheran in a Tipi, is folding her tent and moving on to other activities, but she has promised to stop by from time to time and make comments. I have another Colorado blogger Babs, Girl in Right, who actually uses the same blogger template that Twylah used. She's a former NCAA champion and a new adoptive mother of a Russian toddler. Recently she's been wondering where the feminists are in the Terri Schiavo death by starvation case. She's done a search and found silence.

I seem to recall a case 20 years back when the battle was between the parents of a brain injured Lesbian and her partner. The parents were next of kin and the partner had no rights. I believe we heard quite a bit from feminists in that case--and the partner won the right to bring her home. If Terri were a Lesbian, an African-American, or an endangered Sanibel Island rice rat this case might have ended differently.

954 Young and eager to take on the world

This morning (I'm going to Sunrise Service) I came across Patrick's blog about Colby College in Maine. I think he has graduated and moved on but still keeps in touch with the campus and Maine issues. I think I attended Colby. I'd check my transcript to be sure, except I know absolutely that Maine is such a fabulous place for a college co-ed to spend the summer, that I didn't have my credits transferred (didn't want to mess up my grade point). I had such a great time, that I'm not even sure it was Colby! I need to check a Maine website and see what other small colleges are in that area.

See? Librarians know how to have fun--at least before library school.

953 Blogging problems

This has jumped ahead a bit since I see I've repeated a few numbers in the 940s. I can correct them, but then that messes up the entry title, which has already been picked up for the internet aggregators.

Plus, blogging has been a bear lately. I think people are really jumping in and blogger.com can't keep up, nor can the "ping" sites, which have been malfunctioning.
I just tried to revise my template and got a huge error message about an entry on March 21. Well, duh. Why tell me now? So I'll try sending this one through and hope that cleans it up the template problem. Sometimes that works.

In addition, if I want the window where I type to come up faster, I can't see the numbering, which is why I often make mistakes (and I'm number-challenged).

951 Those of us who volunteer. . .

We see many people like this in nursing homes. Loved, cared for, manicured, shampooed, read to, responding, smiling, happy people. These people are Terri.



Photo from Bayly Blog

950 The Exercise Outfits Drawer Spring Cleaning

This week I washed all the sweaters I've only worn occasionally this past winter (which isn't giving up yet here in Central Ohio). I used to have sweaters dry cleaned, but the last two dry cleaners left such an awful odor in the fabric, I had to let the clothes air out in the garage. I'm not taking any chances with that gunk next to my skin! Besides, if they are ruined or faded by the soap and water, for some it will be no great loss.

As I was looking for a place to put them until I decide if I want to keep or donate (places that take donations don't want winter clothes in March), I opened two drawers in my closet that have reminders that I haven't been in an exercise class for 2 years. Then I decided those shirts and shorts and pants needed to be sorted for keep-or-throw-away too, but needed to be washed first.

The t-shirts are some of my favorites; 1) a pink and black shirt with a smug cat saying, "I don't do mousework;" 2) Readmore's "So many books so little time;" 3) Shedd Museum in Chicago logo for its beautiful colors; and 4) Many "Walk with Majors" (book distributor) from Medical Library Association conferences in various cities like San Antonio, Boston and Seattle. It's hard to give up some of those memories, so I refolded them and made a special drawer just for exercise clothes. (I've written about this problem at our cottage too.)

Then I created a memory pile on the floor, items to be given away like the white jeans, size 8. Those days of the mid-90s will never come around again. A lavender stipe shirt that always looked ugly on me (wrong color for pale skin) and is about 20 years old; a stretchy fabric capri pants with orange, red and pink flowers that makes my husband scream when I put it on (also too tight); a sleeveless t-shirt I bought in Florida in 1987 (rarely worn).

Next I piled up the "think about it" outfits I specifically bought for aerobics class in 2001. These are snappy little numbers in black with stripe down the leg or the shirt. Shows you mean business. I suppose it is possible I might return to class. . . which is why I'll reserve judgement.

I must have thought that clothes make the exerciser.

949 On being silent

Florida Cracker has noted the famous poem “The Hangman” at her site, which was used as the text in a 1963, 12 minute film about the Holocaust. It appears in many Social Studies curricula for school children, to point out the dangers of cooperating with evil, because when the Hangman comes for you, all your friends and neighbors who could have saved you are gone. As a blogger for Terri, she is pointing out that this issue is bigger than one handicapped woman.

At another site, a lay pastor has used "The Hangman” as the form for his poem “The Deceiver.” In this poem, Satan dressed up in the name of Jesus visits a small gospel, Bible-centered church where even the little ones know right from wrong. One by one the Deceiver takes out the believers.

He takes out a deacon by blessing him the "gift" of laughter and barking; he pulls the “Purpose” sign out of the yard; reads to the congregation from a paraphrased Bible; brings in a rock band to replace the hymns and so forth. Finally, when there is only one man left to finally speak up and protest, the Deceiver says:

Then a twinkle grew in the eye of lead.
"Lied to you? Tricked you? Of course I did.
But I answered once and I told you true,
My best disciple is none but you.

"For who has served me more faithfully
Than you with your silence?" gloated he,
"And where are the doctrines that once stood
To help you to know and choose the good?"

"Changed," I whispered, and hatefully,
"Corrupted," Deceiver corrected me:
"Bible, salvation, Spirit too...
I did no more than you let me do."

In the silence, Deceiver said with a yawn,
"My work is done here. I'll move on."
And he left me scornfully in the lurch,
And no prayers rose from the empty church.
By Mike Fischer

And so, many churches who could have spoken out, have kept silent. They are empty of believers.

948 Another woman officer down

In Toledo, a pregnant petite prisoner overpowered her female officer escort on a visit to the obstetric office, according to the Columbus Dispatch. Aurelia Dyer, the prisoner, punched Lisa Osbourne in the nose and choked her unconscious with the belly chain. Then she got out of her handcuffs and leg irons and fled. She was only doing 90 days on forgery. That’s one tough Mama!

Update: The Toledo Blade reports her “capture” and shows a photo of the belly chain (loop is large enough to get over someone’s head.) Like the Atlanta case, she was talked into surrendering, although no book was used. This time a family friend who was on parole was the good Samaritan. He called the police when he realized she had escaped. He had given her clothes and fed her breakfast when she came back a second time.

947 Tax Time

Upon reviewing our tax forms yesterday before returning them to our accountant, I found a $1400 error. It wasn't hers--my husband thought he'd turned it in, but it was medical insurance drawn directly from our checking account and he'd forgotten to write it down with the figures he turned in. (Forgetting to include automatic withdrawals is a common error, according to our accountant.) Be that as it may, the mess our government has made of our tax code is absolutely incomprehensible. (I'm trying to be more careful about always overusing adverbs, but I truly need adverbs for this post.) ;-) If line 2H on p.1 is 20% higher than the total you can't find on p.5 line 17-Q, then go to line 9-b on p. 2 and multiply the difference by the size of your thigh after subtracting your shoe size. I mean, who in the world thinks these things up? Is there a special school to teach legislative staff to design tax code this way?

948 Creepy database search

The TV is reporting another child abduction by a possible sex offender, this time in Iowa. So just out of curiosity I went into our county's sex offender database, which can be searched by zip code. It supplies the photo, current address, and crime details, including the sex of the victim. In my ZIP there were 4; in my son's about 12; and in my daughter's 57! I called her right away--thought she should know.

947 It's not about you, Jill

Remember that 1973 song, "You're so vain, you probably think this song is about you, don't you. . ." In that case, the song really was about the unnamed "you." But Baldilocks tells Jill Porter that Ashley Smith's story isn't about Jill.

"My dad says that some who are blind to miracles are willfully so. To give credit to Jesus Christ for a miracle like that of a nearly a week ago would nearly kill them. So it is that a person like this Jill Porter only looks at this story in terms of herself and her own beliefs. Porter must find any excuse to diminish the fact that Ashley Smith seems to have exorcised whatever demons possessed Brian Nichols using words like “I was his sister and he was my brother in Christ.” Couldn’t have been the work of God. Anything but that."

946 See Dick and Jane Go to Jail

Bloggerben reports on how far we've come. Photo and comment.

945 Sandwiched between feeding tubes

Both her mother and daughter are on feeding tubes, so she knows what she is talking about when it comes to the value of human life. Doctors have stopped predicting her daughter’s death because they are always wrong.

"If I turned our cat loose on the streets and refused her daily Little Sheba rations, I'd be charged with misdemeanors galore and sentenced to community service at the pound. And our cat has no cognitive skills, save for the ability to sniff bumpers. Scott Peterson will enjoy hearings and representation over the next decade as he sits on death row, where he will die a natural death. Where is Terri Schiavo's lawyer? Who does indeed speak for her? When our Claire turned 18, my husband and I had to petition to become her guardians. We were investigated, went to court, and paid for a lawyer for Claire so that the state of Arizona could be assured that Claire was in the right home with decent folk. There was no clamoring at the court house for custody of Claire, and the hearing was mercifully short. Three months and $972 later, not including copying costs, we were appointed guardians of our own child. How do Florida courts get away with less, not for just guardianship, but for the life of the ward herself? If Congress can dictate disability benefits, medical privacy, and any number of long-term care issues, it should make public policy on euthanasia for the disabled who have no living will."
Marianne Jennings

944 They seem to have fallen half in love with death

Peggy Noonan writes:

"I do not understand the emotionalism of the pull-the-tube people. What is driving their engagement? Is it because they are compassionate, and their hearts bleed at the thought that Mrs. Schiavo suffers? But throughout this case no one has testified that she is in persistent pain, as those with terminal cancer are.

If they care so much about her pain, why are they unconcerned at the suffering caused her by the denial of food and water? And why do those who argue for Mrs. Schiavo's death employ language and imagery that is so violent and aggressive? The chairman of the Democratic National Committee calls Republicans "brain dead." Michael Schiavo, the husband, calls House Majority Leader Tom DeLay "a slithering snake."

Everyone who has written in defense of Mrs. Schiavo's right to live has received e-mail blasts full of attacks that appear to have been dictated by the unstable and typed by the unhinged. On Democratic Underground they crowed about having "kicked the sh-- out of the fascists." On Tuesday James Carville's face was swept with a sneer so convulsive you could see his gums as he damned the Republicans trying to help Mrs. Schiavo. It would have seemed demonic if he weren't a buffoon.

Why are they so committed to this woman's death?

They seem to have fallen half in love with death." Full essay.

Why stop with half? They've gone 'round the bend, cackling, sneering, cavorting, whooping with each judge who knocks down the hopes of the Schindlers. I saw more genuine caring and grief from the anti-life crowd over Islamic terrorists in women's panties than I see over a woman dying of thirst in a desert blooming with bizarre court findings.

As Screwtape said to Wormwood: "Hatred is best combined with Fear. Cowardice, alone of all the vices, is purely painful--horrible to anticipate, horrible to feel, horrible to remember; Hatred has its pleasures." [C.S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters]

943 ABC has thanked me for my input

Here's a copy of the note I dashed off to ABCNews about the survey they conducted.

"I've read the questions of your Schiavo poll and frankly, have seen few
polls as biased as yours.

Food and water are not "life support." You probably don't grow and
harvest your own--or even it cook it. We all need help with that. She
could be fed by mouth if her "husband/guardian" permitted it.

She has not received the therapy the award was to pay for, so how would
anyone know if the damage is irreversible. You set up a "straw-woman"
a disabled one at that, in order to stay true to your anti-life
convictions.

Give us some real, honest questions, and you might get honest, reliable
answers.

Click, click. The sound you hear of the remote changing channels."

942 Jesus died for Michael Schiavo

It is Maundy Thursday and I’ll be serving communion at the 6:30 p.m. service. I’m preparing for this. Some time today I’ll probably read through one of the Gospels to put the last week of Christ’s life in perspective (the major focus of the four Gospels is the final week). I’ll do the practical things--like making sure I don’t have hangnails or chipped nail polish, runs in my stockings or stray hairs. I won’t put on perfume today. I’ll make sure I have on low heel shoes or sandals and pick out the right size white robe from the rack in the choir room. I’m rehearsing my lines. As I tear off a piece of bread to give to the members kneeling at the rail, I’ll say, “The body of Christ given for you,” and in my mind I’ll say, “and for Michael Schiavo.”

Sometimes it is hard to put a name and face to the forgiven. Some people claim to have a problem forgiving themselves. Maybe, but let’s look at. It is possible that deep down, by denying that Jesus died for someone else or something really hateful, we are subconsciously denying that Jesus death on the cross was really sufficient. He either died for all, and I‘m in that all and Michael is in that all, or he didn‘t. I can‘t start chipping away at who I‘m going to include in “all.” Whether Michael is in a condition to enjoy the gift of salvation is beyond my knowledge.

“Jesus was put to death for Michael Schiavo’s offences and raised for Michael Schiavo’s justification.” (Rom. 4:25) Maybe you think he is doing the right thing. And that’s OK. You haven’t had the same experiences with the severely disabled that I’ve had and haven’t seen the soul and spirit in the brain injured. You hold your beliefs. For this experiment you don‘t need a Michael; you can substitute someone else’s name--someone who cheated you, deserted you, stole from you, fired you, gossiped about you, favored your siblings, killed your mother, abused your sister, committed adultery, etc. "If Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile and you are still in your sins." (1 Cor. 15:17) Think about Christ being raised for them, because if you can’t, maybe you're doubting he was raised for you.

941 Books in the Kitchen

My husband took a look at the newest pile of books on the kitchen floor and sighed, "Why do we have a National Water Summary 1985--hydrologic events and surface-water resouces? " So I had to tell him about the freebie table outside the Agriculture Library (no longer its name, but you get the idea). I'd picked up three government publications from 1985 to see if anything had changed in twenty years. The water summary had really nice maps of all the states, and I'll probably pull out Ohio's. I compared it to the 1999 which was also on the table, but it was only boring computer printouts--no maps on slick paper.

Then there was the 1985 Environmental Education: Progress Toward a Sustainable Future Conference in Washington DC. You should see the mission statement--a full page. Couldn't help but notice that the editors said the papers were "copywrited" instead of "copyrighted," and the articles look completely reuseable if you need them for a 2005 conference. Not much has changed even though we are now in "the future" about which they were writing.

Here's my favorite. "Time Use Patterns and Satisfaction with Life of Single Parent Families; with special emphasis on the female, low income and/or minority family-head." The author was hopeful that her study could be a benchmark; that using her data agencies and institutions would do a better job of supporting and helping low-income, single mothers. But based on her "happiness scale," I think she may have worked herself out of that role. Maybe 51 families is too small a base, but I didn't see much unhappiness (dissatisfaction) here.

Feelings and perceptions were rated 1-5, negative to positive. In the happiness scale if you grouped the 3+ figures with the happy end, you get 80.3% felt good about their lives; if you grouped the threes with the unhappy, you'd get 61.7% were unhappy about their lives. Apparently it wouldn't do to have all those satisfied single moms, so they compared this study with a two-parent study done in 1979 using a different scale, and determined that single mothers had a more negative outlook on their lives than married mothers.

The biggest block of time for single moms (most weren't employed) in a 24 day, was of course, "rest," with slightly over 8 hours; the next largest block of time was "Leisure activities by yourself" at slightly over 5 hours (this was primarily TV). "Personal and family care" got 2.5 hours.

Anecdotal career advice I've seen seems to show that working women with high incomes and family responsibilities are unhappy about time with their children and lack of personal time. This study shows that low income single women are unhappy with their finances but very happy about time spent with family and their leisure time.

So that's what is piling up at my house. What's on your kitchen floor/table?