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For Your Consideration

28 Jun 2024 by KRAG

Well, that was a bloody disaster.

I’m talking, of course, about last night’s “debate” between Biden and Trump. While Trump played the usual bloviating, grievance-fueled prevaricator who couldn’t manage to actually address 90% of the questions put to him, Biden’s performance was—there’s no way to sugar-coat it—feeble, stumbling, and unfocused.

While I don’t see the event as having helped either candidate, I know it hurt Biden, and that pumps up my already elevated cortisol levels into the red.

Democrats are in freak-out mode, and I am not about to attempt a prediction as to how this will play out. What I do want to do is throw a lifeline to those who are understandably concerned, who like neither of the candidates, and who are genuinely worried about the GOP’s right-hand trend toward lawless autocracy and unabashed theocracy.

We must, as a good friend of mine said, change the narrative.

Here’s my suggestion of how we can do this.

Vote for the Agenda, Not the Candidate

American politics took a wrong turn back when voters began to use the “Who would you rather have a beer with?” metric for deciding on a candidate. It was arguably the first misstep that put us on the path to where we are today, where we vote solely on who the candidate is (or appears to be), and not how they will govern. This is a critical distinction, as the person who is president is much less important than the agenda that person brings into office.

So, if you’ll indulge me, let’s do a little thought experiment. Take the candidates out of the equation—no Trump, and no Biden—and compare just the agenda that each major party is working toward. This is actually an easy thing to do as both parties have manifestos and a track record.

————

For the GOP, one need look no further than Project 2025. This 900+ page roadmap is the product of The Heritage Foundation, a highly influential ultra-conservative think tank that has been fighting against reproductive rights, LGBTQ+ rights, civil rights, and climate change for decades. Aiding and abetting this project are over a hundred other right-wing groups such as Stephen Miller’s (he of the “family separation” immigration policy) America First Legal, and the book-banning, racism-denying Moms for Liberty. While Project 2025 is not officially the platform of the GOP’s campaigns, we hear them use its talking points in their rhetoric, see the actions they’ve already taken in support of it, and read about the steps they are taking toward a fuller implementation of its goals.

It’s impossible to accurately summarize this incredibly broad-based agenda, but let’s at least point to a few examples of where they’re going:

  • Christian nationalism is a driving force in the Project’s philosophy. We see already the attempts to erode the separation of church and state, with Christian teachings being mandated in schools (see Oklahoma, Louisiana) and attempts to eliminate the long-standing ban on churches endorsing candidates.
  • Climate change mitigation efforts should be abandoned by repealing regulations that curb emissions, downsizing the EPA, and abolishing the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA), which the Project calls “one of the main drivers of the climate change alarm industry.”
  • Reproductive health is on the block, as the Project insists that life begins at conception, and intends to explicitly reject “the notion that abortion is health care.” This, includes the withdrawal of FDA approval of (and funding for) medical abortion drugs and the “morning after” pill. One spokesperson has said that the Department of Health and Human Services should require that “every state report exactly how many abortions take place within its borders, at what gestational age of the child, for what reason, the mother’s state of residence, and by what method.” General healthcare, too, is up for changes, as the Project wants to rescind Medicare’s ability to negotiate drug prices (which recently brought the monthly price of insulin down to $35) and eliminate gender-affirming care.
  • Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) projgrams, which have far-reaching positive effects for many vulnerable minorities, will be removed and federal employees who have participated in such programs can be fired.  The Project proposes the recognition of only heterosexual men and women, the removal of protection against discrimination on the basis of sexual or gender identity, and promotion of a government that will “maintain a biblically based, social-science-reinforced definition of marriage and family.”

These are highlights only, and do not paint a complete picture, as we also need to keep in mind that the GOP talks openly about more tax cuts that primarily benefit the wealthy and corporations, about eliminating the ACA that provides healthcare for millions, and about letting Putin and Russia do “whatever the hell they want” and walk all over Ukraine (and wherever they want to go next).

————

On the Democrat side, it’s pretty much the opposite: religion has no place in government, climate change is real and must be combated, reproductive rights are essential healthcare, prescription drugs should be cheaper for everyone, and America is stronger because of our diversity.

In addition, the Democrats:

  • Have been working toward immigration reform and border security (though the GOP killed a bill they’d already agreed to, because it’s a good political football)
  • Have helped eliminate or reduce student loan debt for millions (though the GOP has worked hard to thwart every attempt)
  • Were able to bring down gas prices about 40 cents/gallon through a savvy set of maneuvers using the Strategic Petroleum Reserve
  • Have passed bills on infrastructure and manufacturing that have brought thousands of jobs and billions of investment dollars back to the states
  • Want to raise the minimum wage, fight for higher tax credits to offset child-care costs, and support workers who want to unionize
  • Support the fight against autocracy, be it against Putin’s imperialistic goals in Ukraine, or Iran’s proxies in the Middle East

————

Regardless of who is at the top of the ticket, these are the agendas, and one will win in November.

My vote will go toward the Democrat’s agenda, up and down the ticket, because:

  • Even though I live in a reliably “blue state,” I want to repudiate the GOP agenda.
    • I don’t want to win by a squeak; I want to win by a lot. I don’t want anyone to stay home or vote for a third party candidate because I want this extreme GOP agenda to be resoundingly defeated. I want the Democrat agenda to be given a mandate to proceed.
  • I want to give the Democrat agenda the tools it needs to realize these goals.
    • That means a majority in the House and the Senate, as well as control of the Executive branch. The GOP has proven it cannot/will not compromise. Hell, even when they did agree to a bill that gave them almost everything they wanted (i.e., this year’s immigration/border security bill), they killed it rather than give any kind of a “win” to the Dems. So I want a government that can actually do something, instead of being stuck in gridlock.
  • I want the Democrat agenda to have a chance to re-balance the Supreme Court (or at least maintain status quo).
    • If the GOP comes into power again, they’ll be able to replace aging conservatives Thomas and Alito with younger, more rabid justices, who will give us retrograde decisions like Dobbs for decades to come. And let’s not even think of them expanding the conservative majority on the bench, should one of the liberal justices retire.

There’s a lot at stake this election. We’re reaching a fever pitch and the results will shape our nation for decades.

One of these agendas will win, come November, and we don’t have the luxury of letting others decide for us.

If you’ve read this far, I thank you for your indulgence, and I greatly appreciate your time and attention.

k

Posted in Culture, Politics | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a Comment »

BBQ Rub & Sauce

23 Jun 2024 by KRAG

I am not a pit-master nor am I an aficionado of All Things Barbecue, but I know what I like, and what I like in BBQ is a deep, earthy base topped with a tangy-never-sweet sauce. Toward that end, I’ve tried several recipes and, as usual, have come up with my own concoction, a combination accreted from the work of others and the results of my own experimentation.

This rub/sauce combo works exceedingly well on slow-baked pork ribs (I prefer St. Louis style cuts) and on quartered chicken. The rub, by itself, is also great for strong-flavored fish, sprinkled over omelets, and dusted on roasted vegetables.

The recipe below is enough for two racks of pork ribs (about 5 lbs worth) or a brace of chicken. The rub will last in the cupboard for months, while I keep the extra sauce in the fridge for a month (though in summer it rarely goes unused that long).

Aye, There’s the Rub

Ingredients

  • 2 tbsp dark brown sugar
  • 4 tsp ground cumin
  • 4 tsp smoked paprika (Spanish preferred)
  • 2 tsp garlic powder (roasted garlic powder preferred)
  • 2 tsp ground coriander
  • 2 tsp Kosher salt
  • 1/2 tsp ground chipotle pepper (optional)
  • 1/2 tsp powdered dried porcini mushroom (optional)

Procedure

  • Mix all ingredients together in a bowl.
  • If using on meat, pat meat dry with paper towels first, and then sprinkle on the appropriate amount (see above), on all sides, and massage in. Best if left on the meat for a minimum of 30 minutes or as long as overnight.
  • If using on fish, eggs, or veg, just sprinkle a dash over them as you might any spice mixture.
  • Store leftover rub in a sealed container in the spice cupboard.

Get Sauced

Ingredients

  • 1 cup ketchup
  • 1/4 cup white wine vinegar
  • 1/3 cup dark brown sugar
  • 1/3 cup molasses (regular, not blackstrap)
  • 1 tsp hot sauce of your choice (heat is a very personal thing)
  • 1 tsp Dijon (or spicy brown) mustard
  • 1 tsp fish sauce
  • 1/2 tsp Worcestershire sauce
  • 2-3 cloves garlic, minced and mashed

Procedure

  • Here, also, simply mix all ingredients together in a bowl. Adjust heat to taste.
  • After the meat has baked, and after it gets a singe with the blowtorch (or from broiler), brush on the sauce (all sides) and give it another singe.
  • Refrigerate leftover sauce in a closed container for up to a month.

k

Posted in Food, Recipes | Tagged , , , | 3 Comments »

(Hidden) Child

17 Jun 2024 by KRAG

Ronald Achilles Giambastiani

Yesterday was Father’s Day here in the U.S., and it was a rather difficult one for me. Unexpectedly so.

My pop died back in 2016, at the age of eighty-six. His final years were not pleasant for him (nor for us, in many ways). He’d outlived two wives, had lost a lot of his vitality due to emphysema and spinal stenosis, and the whole “estate” thing—rewriting wills, selling his home, moving into assisted living, etc.—took a terrible emotional toll on him. But his death was eight years ago, and while the first few Father’s Days were understandably difficult, I’d weathered those that followed with an increasing sense of love, serenity, and gratitude for the Old Man.

So, why did this one hit me hard?

I spent much of the day looking at that question, wondering, wanting an answer. It seemed so random. Was I just on edge due to [gestures to the world at large]? No; the world’s Turmoil Coefficient has been in the red for several years, now. Was I suddenly aware of my own mortality? Hehe; not really, as that has been on my mind pretty much since Dad died (the death of one’s parents will do that to you). So, then, what?

When I finally pinned my brain to the mat on this (and trust me, my brain is an eel in this regard), it turned out (to my chagrin) to be all about me. Specifically, teenage me.

Within all of us, I believe, is what the woo-woo folks call our “inner child,” that part of our psyche that still thinks (and, more importantly, feels things) like a child. We carry our past with us, our memories of years irretrievable, and they affect us. Like when a certain song comes on, or you catch a whiff of a distinctive scent, or someone says something entirely random that transports you back through the decades, and you react, sometimes strongly, sometimes illogically, with happiness, sadness, anger, fear, you name it. For instance, here in Seattle, whenever the conditions are right, the wind carries the scent of low tide in from the shore, the air heavy with the aromas of salt, mud, kelp, and moisture, and when I take a lungful I am suddenly five years old walking barefoot through the toe-squishy, pebble-strewn shores of San Pablo Bay, and I am inexplicably happy. (I love days when that happens.)

So there’s a part of me still, even though my dad is long gone, an ancient part of me, that “burgeoning young man” part, that yet seeks his nod, that wants him to be proud of me.

And this year, the year of my retirement, is in many ways the culmination of my labors, and my dad did not live to see me reach it.

My dad never really understood me. He told me that, directly, and more than once. He never “got” the whole of me, never understood how my mind worked, couldn’t see how or why I could drop one interest, the focus of years, and pick up something entirely new. He never understood how I could remain constantly “on task” while continuously shifting gears. In short, to him, I was an enigma, unravel-able. Yes, he was proud of some of my achievements—my books, for example—but those were shining moments in time. Overall, I think I was too much of a mixed bag to warrant his unequivocal stamp of approval.

And yet, yesterday, it is what my heart wanted. And couldn’t get, of course.

Dad wasn’t a demonstrative man. He always held something in reserve, kept a large chunk of himself private. I have my theories as to why, but in part it’s just what his generation did. I know he loved me, warts and all, as he did all of his children, but in my own desire to be the kid no one had to worry about, I became, in part, the hidden child, the child no one really saw.

In twenty years I will reach the age at which my dad passed. I hope I have that much time (and a bit more, if I’m honest). But a father’s pride is out of reach for me now.

Luckily, I’m satisfied with my own.

k

Posted in Culture | Tagged , , , | 2 Comments »

With Tears in my Eyes

02 Jun 2024 by KRAG

There was a lot of celebrating, when the verdict came in, and a lot of gnashing of teeth, as well. I fully expected, given the outcome, to be in the former group. I wasn’t. Nor was I in the latter group, either. Instead, I was somewhere in between.

I was genuinely upset, not because of any imagined “travesty of justice.” I’d been following the trial closely, reading reportage from dispassionate sources, and listening to analysis from those who know the law much better than I, so I understood the charges, was familiar with the testimony and arguments, and understood the basics of the jury’s instructions. While verdicts of guilty seemed likely, I was prepared for a hung jury, because, well, Trump.

But as the guilty verdicts came in, on count after count after count, each one hit me like a gut-punch. I had to sit down, hand over mouth, tears in my eyes. Surprised the hell out of me, if I’m honest.

Why? Because it felt right, it felt correct, but it also felt terribly wrong. Wrong in the sense of, we shouldn’t even be here, we shouldn’t have to do this. We should not have a major political party that is hell-bent on nominating for the presidency a person who is an adjudicated fraud, a proven sexual assaulter, and who now is convicted of using illegal means to cover up payments and avoid election finance laws and thereby hide what would have been, for some, a critical fact concerning his character.

The names Gary Hart, Bill Clinton, and John Edwards—Democrats who suffered various political and civil fallout from their own sexual impropriety—came quickly to my mind. Why them, and why not this one? “It was a different time,” I hear some say. What? Was 2008 (for Edwards) a “different time?” As late as 2016, even after the Access Hollywood debacle, Trump’s Janus-faced surrogates were hounding Clinton for his decades-old antics.

Moreover, it was the nearly unanimous Republican response that felt wrong. No, more than just wrong. Dangerous. From the spectacle of the Red Tie Brigade that came downtown in lockstep to sit behind the accused in court, to the unison mouthing of ill-wrought talking points throughout the media, the country has been assaulted by words like “rigged,” “corrupt,” and “conflicted,” all designed to attack and weaken the judiciary and, critically, to erode our trust in the rule of law.

This is what the former Party of Law and Order has become. To defend the indefensible, they attack. They attack the judge, the judge’s family, the prosecution, and even the jury. The jury. Ordinary citizens, people like you and me, all deemed acceptable by lawyers from both sides, are attacked and slandered, doxxed and made to fear for their lives, simply because the defense’s rusty bucket of an argument didn’t raise a reasonable doubt in face of concrete evidence.

Now, a few days after, the sadness has not left me. I find little cause for celebration, as it has become clear that these thirty-four felony convictions will not make a difference to a large swath of the electorate. They have proven that Trump could, literally, shoot someone dead on 5th Avenue and he would not lose their vote.

And what does that say about us? As a country, as voters, as a population? What sort of respect could such a people enjoy? What sort of leadership could such a nation provide on the world stage? If America’s influence in the world is eroding, it is we who are doing the chipping away. If nations are crab-walking their way toward autocracy, it is in part because we are not bolstering our own democracy.

America has never been perfect. America will never be perfect. But we need to strive toward that goal, toward the “more perfect Union” of which our first Republican president spoke.

We have some little time left. There is a handful of months wherein I hope we, as a population, begin to see past our individual trees and toward the forest that we constitute.

My heart’s wish is that we succeed.

k

Posted in Culture, Politics | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment »

Edge of Forever

23 May 2024 by KRAG

I see stars swimming
through eternal soul-dark seas
the horizon nears

Posted in Creativity, Poetry | Tagged , , , , | Leave a Comment »

Seattle Lights

14 May 2024 by KRAG

Photo courtesy of Shannon Page

Summers in my tween years were not pleasant. Most of this was due to the standard tween-centric issues—the struggle for self-definition, the complete lack of agency, the all-too-natural desire to take the bit in one’s teeth and reject all elder pressure to conform—but there was one recurring event that made those summers even less pleasant: trips to the Iron Range of northern Minnesota.

My stepmom came from the Iron Range—north of Duluth, the little town of Gilbert, MN—and for a few years we trekked out there from my hometown north of San Francisco to visit her relations (of which there were many). I remember three trips; the first was by airplane, and the next two were (sadly) by car.

It’s not that it was a total misery from start to finish, but at that age I’d not yet learned to appreciate the excitement and exploratory thrill of travel. The road trips, in particular, were little more than a purgatory of boredom which I suffered in the station wagon’s “way back” listening to one of the three 8-track cassettes I had been allowed to bring. My folks would turn off the front speakers and I would listen to Buffy Sainte-Marie or Simon & Garfunkel or Quadrophenia on an eternal loop. In short, I was dour, mopey, and generally about as much fun to have along as an overfilled suitcase with a broken wheel. But still, each trip had its high point (singular).

The airplane trip’s acme was when we took an actual helicopter shuttle from Marin County to the SFO airport. That was cool. On the first road trip, we stopped at Mount Rushmore. Definite high point.

The second road trip—our final journey—was taken under a dark star, though. We broke down in Idaho, dealt with locusts and hailstorms through the Dakotas, and then hit a deer somewhere north of Duluth (it was then I learned that, for insurance purposes in Minnesota, deer were considered “falling objects” and hitting one was covered, which was good for my folks, as our Vista Cruiser took a serious beating).

But that trip had a high point, too. By this time, I’d learned some of the names of the myriad relations we visited with, and even enjoyed the company of some of the kids my age. One night, staying in a relative’s cabin by a lake (don’t ask me which one . . . they have thousands, you know), we went out for a walk, and it was on that walk that I saw three new things at once: fireflies, foxfire, and the aurora borealis.

I’d camped a lot as a kid. I’d backpacked through the Point Reyes National Park, bushwhacked my way through the hills behind my home, and ridden my bike up the coast, staying in campgrounds along the way (hey, it was a different time, back then). But never, ever, had I seen anything that naturally glowed in the dark, much less three things in one night. The auroras were the most difficult to see, given the trees and all, but from the south edge of the lake we got a view of them. I remember green ribbons, vague and hazy, sliding above the treetops in the distant north on that short but moonless summer night.

I’d always wanted to see them again, except with a better view.

This weekend, I got my wish.

Seattle was “in the zone” for auroras formed by the recent solar storm and CMEs that blasted our way, and while anything astronomical—be it meteor showers or eclipses or auroras—will, nineteen times out of twenty, be met with cloudy skies, leaving us skunked, this was not one of those times.

I became aware of something going on when, near midnight, as I was drifting off to sleep, I heard voices out on the street. Then I got a text from my neighbor, alerting me to the show above. Then a second text: “They’re getting brighter!”

We got out of bed, threw on robes and such, and ventured out into the dark. About half of the block was standing out in the center of the cul-de-sac, in their PJs, staring upward and exclaiming in what I’d have to call “stage whispers,” where they wanted to be quiet but couldn’t. Naturally, I couldn’t see anything right away, but after twenty minutes or so the auroras became clear. Pinks, greens, purples, and blues, in ribbons and vortices and swirls, covered the sky from the northern treetops to the sky’s zenith. People were using their phones—much more sensitive to the faint light and colors than our eyes—but I preferred to view them unaided. What surprised me, aside from the variety of colors, was how swiftly they moved, eddying with the currents of magnetic force, snaking across the heavens.

It was a priceless time, a brief hour or two, absolutely filled with wonder, spent amongst friends and neighbors.

I’m sure there were some stiff necks the next morning, but even so, some of us went out the next evening hoping to see a repeat performance (alas, it was not meant to be). I think I prefer it that way, though. It was a one-off, an isolated treat, and is all the more precious because of its singular nature.

My eyes were unable to see the truly spectacular show than did others who were farther from the city lights, but I’ll file it away, that memory, and replay it now and again, as I have that night of the fireflies and foxfire.

k

Posted in Seattle | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments »

The Cold, Cold Heart of Home

28 Apr 2024 by KRAG

Hearth and Home.

That’s the old phrase. Hearth and Home. It conjures up ancient images of thatch-roofed huts and stone fireplaces paved with glowing embers, perhaps topped by low-burning logs or maybe a kettle suspended over the flames. Move forward in time, and we imagine cozy cottages with wood-burning stoves providing heat for comfort and for cooking simple homemade fare. The hearth, the warmth of the homefire, the place where the family gathers to ward off the cold of night and keep the dangers of the rough world beyond our walls at bay, this hearth is the heart of the home.

At some point, though, the hearth and the cookfire diverged. While my great-aunt Italia prepared everything, from the morning coffee to the noonday bread and the evening’s ragout, all on her massive black-iron wood-burning stove, a behemoth that stood in the kitchen and that sent its warmth (and aromas) into every room of the house, the kitchen in my parents’ home had scissored the hearth’s purpose, assigning heat to the furnace, cordoning off cookfires to the tamed domesticity of oven and stove, and relegating flames to the fireplace where they functioned as mere decoration. We did not “gather around the stove” to ward off the night any more than we did so around the furnace.

As someone who enjoys cooking, “hearth and home” remained a catchphrase, but where kitchen became synonymous with hearth, and where (in my mind) the heat of the kitchen was the beating heart of the home.

Until last week.

Last week I learned that, in reality, it is not heat that makes my kitchen a place of love’s labors.

It is cold.

That’s because, a while ago, our fridge died. I woke up, made my super-strong coffee, opened the fridge for some cream and immediately knew something was wrong. The air within was a bit too warm, with a hint of mustiness. I was lucky in that we were able to save everything in the freezer, but everything else—dairy, many condiments, a lot of the veg, all the deli—was lost, not to be replaced until we could get a new appliance installed.

Living without a refrigerator for a week was, thankfully, not much more than a major annoyance and a relatively affordable expense; it was not a crisis. But it did show me how much large a part its simple duty—to keep fresh food cold—plays in my daily life. The refrigerator is like a time-machine, where time slows within its confines. Leafy greens do not wilt. Cheeses do not mold and milk does not sour. Refreshing beverages are ready to hand.

And when the new fridge was delivered and installed, as its refrigerant began to pump through its conduits, bringing life-altering food preservation back to my home, I felt like a hominid standing before a Kubrickian monolith, smashing bones with newly acquired power and insight.

The hearth will never lose its place in our collective consciousness as a symbol of home; its why we now put our single hearth in the main room of our houses, even if it’s fired only by gas jets or a “fireplace” video from Netflix.

But for me, the heart of my home is the kitchen, and the heart of the kitchen is the frigid lifeblood of the refrigerator.

k

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