I read this morning, actually I read this a few days ago, but was reminded this morning that:
Policy analysts at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention in Atlanta were told of the list of forbidden terms at a meeting Thursday with senior CDC officials who oversee the budget, according to an analyst who took part in the 90-minute briefing. The forbidden terms are “vulnerable,” “entitlement,” “diversity,” “transgender,” “fetus,” “evidence-based” and “science-based.”
What a reminder this is of the perceived power of words. I don’t think trump wrote these rules as his life seems to have been a pilgrimage involving a search for the three Ps — power, prosperity and
p——. It also is a reminderer of how politicians play by some of the rules set by their base — perhaps one should say seem to play by those rules. Tell them they got a tax cut — while behind the scenes cracking up and saying but don’t tell them not to spent all $50 of it in one place.
Vulnerable refers to the fact humans are susceptible to being hurt or wounded. We are vulnerable. Every one of us, though we all pretend to be otherwise at certain times in our lives. We are vulnerable to senescence, death, disease, injury, pain, depression, sadness, poverty, hunger, cold. The list could go on forever. How strange it is to try to erase that particular word from our language. The powers that be (short lived one has to hope), of course, don’t want the CDC and one can assume the NIH, and the INS, etc. to refer to vulnerable populations, to the disparities in health and social justice. They want to erase the entire population of refugees who have suffered from depravities created by men who are even more cruel (perhaps) than the ones in power in the US. They want us to forget the poor, sad, depressed, wounded and even those who have been shot and killed by the very guns the NRA pays our politicians to protect.
Entitlement can be read several ways — we are (or once were) entitled to equal protection under the law. We are entitled to equality, which we have never even witnessed. We are (or were) entitled to life (although the NRA, apparently, has more rights to our lives than our most vulnerable have. Liberty? Well, we are free to suffer, be sad, be hungry, but each day there are more restrictions on our ability to try to criticize — or speak truth to — power. It can mean that people like the trumpettes — trumps kids — are entitled to things we cannot ever even dream of having. I am sure the powers that be like that form of entitlement. What they don’t like are the entitlements we were promised by our forefather. Those entitlements apparently are now not to be discussed.
Diversity, transgender — those words refer to members of our own world who once were given certain inalienable rights. Rights that now are being taken away from our sisters and brothers — from people we love.
Fetus, of course, is an appeal to the anti abortion crowd. That group of rich Americans who never have known what it is like to struggle to feed, clothe and shelter a child. Who lived in safe neighborhoods and never were terrified if their child wanted to go out to play because of the violence that surrounds their home. Who never worked three and four jobs to try to make ends meet and still tried to raise a child. Who have never faced a pregnancy when they knew they did not have the power or strength or resources for another child — and would lose their jobs if they got pregnant even if they were married.
The last two are attacks on science — attacks aimed at protecting lies they want to protect — lies that claim we can put anything into our water and air and birdies without facing consequences. Lies that claim guns don’t kill and that we are not selling assault weapons to those we should be caring for because of their mental health problems. Lie after lie, now protected because the library at Alexandria was again burned.
Enough is enough. we need honorable and intelligent people in congress. We need to weed out the fools, knaves, liars, cheats, philanders, and greedy — those who are willing to punish the “vulnerable” merely because they are vulnerable. Enough is enough.
The last time I wrote in this blog was a long time ago. I was living in a different place, had a different job, had different concerns, and had more free time. Certainly I was a different me. Where has the muse been for the past five years? Apparently it was not just a just a room of her own that Virginia Woolf needed, as I have had a room of my own. However, her writing room was quite nice. One can see the muses peeking in the door. The writing cottage (hum, not just a room, but an entire cottage) is inspiring.
I really did try hard to raise my children to be socially skilled, and in that I was pretty successful. It is sort of a miracle that they are so very successful, as I am not -- my father did not like people around the house, so we never had to learn how to listen to or charm visitors. Anyway, my adult children are much more socially skilled than I and part of their skill lies in the fact that they like people and enjoy being with them. Another part of their skill lies in the fact that they are not selfish or self-centered and they work to let others know they are important. In other words, they let other people talk and they are good listeners. Where I might have failed, however, was in failing to teach some non-skeptical acceptance of pronouncements (i.e., mine). If I say something they think is stupid, they let me know one way or another -- even if (especially if) I am only saying it to try to maneuver their behavior in a certain direction. I also might have created some problems when I gave them adult knowledge at young ages. I had inherited this fascination with knowledge from generations of my ancestors and I passed it on. Some of the things I taught them have proved to be helpful -- mathematics (e.g., algebra, prime numbers), languages, cooking, the Greek myths, plants and animals of the Andes, coast and rainforest, and prehistoric cultures of Ecuador and Colombia. However, sometimes knowledge can be problematic. Their knowledge often did not fit comfortably with widely held practices. I had learned vast amounts of odd bits of knowledge, but as I never talked, never having social skills, no one ever found out (and that applies to the present time). One evening I found my young daughter in the front yard of our Ecuadorian home, kneeling in the moonlight. I asked her what she was doing. She, in what made sense, probably, in the prehistoric Ecuador that we had studied, said she was praying to the god of the moon. That practice/belief was not something, however, that probably went over well in show-and-tell at the Deutsche Schule, where Catholicism and Luteranism were widely accepted -- especially in the 1-4 grades. My only major regret, as she thankfully was not thrown out of the school, is that I did not ask, or else I do not remember, what she was talking to the God of the Moon about, what changes she might have wanted to bring about. Another time she wrote a book on reproduction that was pretty darn graphic. She may have had a bit too much book knowledge in what I now think may have been way too soon, and in a place where such knowledge in a young child would have been a bit shocking. Again, she was never thrown out of that school. When they were born I had no Dr. Spock. I remember coming home from the hospital and thinking, with some desperation, what do I do with this baby? I had never truly even babysat for an infant. Certainly I had never given them a bath (did they need them, I wondered), or had to deal with colic or a baby who never slept (and still does not sleep) or who vomited when she was moved from breast milk to bottle milk. The only book I had was on primate mothers and their babies and from that book I was able to draw lessons (no, not on sex education) on demand feeding, on holding babies much of the time and keeping them near you, on closely monitoring their development. While mothering in humans is or can be culturally complex, there might be some simple lessons to seem to work well in caring for infants. They did learn they were loved, unconditionally. They, in turn, love unconditionally. My daughter, in particular, has always been generous and accepting. She sees people, not in terms of their possessions or SES status, but in terms of who they are in their hearts (yes, I know that is a metaphor). She did notice that they had less than she did and generally from the time she was quite small gave away her toys to try to bring into equal number the relative quantity of possessions.
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to heaven, we were all going direct the other way - in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only. Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities