“Add Your Name…Share if You Agree”

No, thank you. I might agree with the topic at hand. I might support the organization or the movement wholeheartedly. I might even be one who donated money to the cause.

But add my name to an online petition? Not any more.

Share a clever picture and slogan (a.k.a. “meme”)? Not if you have to tell me what to do with it.

You see, Facebook folks, it’s like this. Long ago, a petition was a handheld list circulated by a dedicated volunteer with a clipboard. In order to recruit signatures, the volunteer had to talk face to face with potential signature-bearing citizens. When that volunteer handed in the petition and merged those signatures with all the other papers from all the other clipboards, those numbers meant something. Those signatures came from people who had thought about the cause, the pending legislation, or the candidacy of an individual who wanted to run for office. Those signatures meant something.

Today, nomination papers still mean something. I had the privilege of circulating nomination papers for Tom Nelson, our County Executive who is now running for Congress. Everyone I talked to wanted to sign because they knew Tom or knew of Tom and supported him in his quest to represent us in Washington, D.C.

But online petitions are another story. It’s much too easy to add a name to an online petition. Many (and I’m talking thousands, more in many cases) people add their names to online petition and say, “I signed!” without doing any research whatsoever. For example, “I can’t believe they shot the gorilla!” or “Free Stevie the Murderer!” And therein lies the danger. It’s easy to sign a misleading petition. It’s easy to become incensed about an issue without knowing the facts. The number of “signatures” loses meaning as the personal element disappears.

And that, my friends, is why the Powers That Be don’t take online petitions seriously. They recognize these petitions as potential interest-grabbing statements, but Those In Power rarely act on a petition that collects signatures only online. If it’s too easy to achieve a large number of “signatures,” those signatures mean less and less.

Now for the “Share if you Agree” factor. I will continue to share posts I find relevant and/or fun. But if the original poster or sharer considers us readers too stupid to know what to do, then forget it. I rarely share posts that insult me by instructing me, “Share if you Agree.” I’m more likely to do nothing, even if I support the cause.

You may be thinking, “But Daisy! How can I make a difference? How can I be the good in the world?” Here it is, folks.

  • Put your money where your heart is. Make a donation. If you can’t donate money, donate clipboards. Toilet paper. A vacuum cleaner.
  • Volunteer. Walk around with a clipboard. Talk to voters. Attend a training session. Enter data.
  • Call your legislators. Email means less because it’s (again) too easy. Snail mail is, well, slow. Pick up the phone. It’ll help if you know the name and number of the bill that’s pending. Call even if your legislators support the bill in question; they need to be able to say “My constituents want this” and back it up with numbers.

So that’s how it goes, my friends. If you want my support, don’t ask me to share a meme or sign an online petition. I plan to stop by at the local Democrats’ office and offer my computer skills. I’ve also entered my senators’ phone numbers into my cell phone for easy access. I’m ready.

How about you, readers? What’s the best way to get your voice heard?

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Prepping for winter – or summer – with rhubarb

I’ve been under the weather for several days, and while I rested and drank fluids, the rhubarb patch grew wild and unruly. When I finally get to it, I will have a lot and I mean A LOT of rhubarb. Frozen rhubarb has good flavor, but the texture isn’t great. I’ll only freeze this bounty if that’s the only option left. Meanwhile, as I was resting, I used the power of the Internet to find more ways to use rhubarb. Here’s a list.

rhubarb jam (of course)

rhubarb jelly (I haven’t really tried jellies yet)

rhubarb cobbler and crisp

rhubarb barbecue sauce (I’ve already put up one batch)

rhubarb juice (now this could be interesting)

I made a trip to the always-fantastic Fleet Farm last night to replace my small hot water bath canner, and as long as I was in the aisle, I grabbed a jelly straining kit. This kit can be part of making jelly rather than jam or straining actual juices from fresh fruit. Rhubarb juice? It’s a possibility.

My thanks to Rhubarb Central for the many, many successful recipes!

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Prepping for a Storm, the Daisy way

We’re expecting thunderstorms later today. In our part of the country, that means rain (a lot), possibilities of hail, lightning strikes, high winds, and even (less likely, but possible) tornadoes. Power outages can happen, too. We Northerners know how to prep for storms. Here’s my list for the day.

Clean litter box (done). Replace box and cage tray with clean equivalents. Refill hay basket. Pet nervous rabbit who wonders why her dirty litter and crumbs of hay are being taken away.

Here’s the stormy part: Dump dirty litter on brush pile or in compost. Rinse litter box with rain barrel water (we’ll get more later). Set litter box and tray in safe place in backyard to be rinsed with rain water.

Charge everything that might need charging. Kindle. Phone. Laptop. Amigo’s book player, bluetooth headphones, and anything else he might need. Stormy part? When we’re getting lightning, we won’t want anything important to be plugged in. If we lose power, we’ll have communication (phones) and entertainment (audio book player, kindle, etc.). If the power stays off, I’ll consider cooking supper on the grill.

Amigo just told me it smells like rain. Indeed, I see wet pavement outside. Most windows are closed; I’ll close the last few when needed. See you later, Interwebs. We’re hunkered down in our den, curled up with a few books and Amigo’s weather radio. Stay safe out there!

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Trump isn’t very bright. Now what?

Let’s see. Where to start? Let’s stick to June. Early in June, Donald Trump faced a question about the upcoming Brexit vote. He didn’t know what Brexit meant. As recently as last Wednesday, he refused to comment because he hadn’t been following the issue closely.

As soon as the vote results came in, Trump claimed to have predicted the result. “I said this was going to happen, and I think that it’s a great thing. Basically, they took back their country.”

Trouble? Trump was in Scotland. Everything was different in Scotland.

Trump’s Tweet announced in less that 140 characters that he had “Just arrived in Scotland. Place is going wild over the vote. They took their country back, just like we will take America back. No games!”

Oops. Palm to forehead. Scotland’s majority vote supported staying in the European Union. Scotland recently voted to remain part of the UK, too. The Donald didn’t know that. Or – maybe he just didn’t care.

Responses on Twitter were brilliant. Brilliant, I say! Tweets blasted the man for his ignorance. (Run a search for it. I’m not going to reprint the language on my rated G blog.) But it’s not the presumptive nominee that worries me right now.

Trump doesn’t know much. He doesn’t stop to think, he doesn’t do the research, and he definitely doesn’t count to ten before he opens his mouth. He appears clueless, to put it nicely. Ignorant. Thoughtless. Racist. Stupid. Misogynist. Rude. I would hope that Americans would absolutely NOT want a president with those attributes.

And that’s where the worst comes up. Many of Trump’s followers actually like the rude and thoughtless, loud and biased candidate because they think he’s just like them. However, they’re wrong on that point. The wealthy businessman’s simpleton supporters don’t realize that the Donald looks down on them. He doesn’t like the low income folks who think he might Make America Great for them. He likes the idea of an economic crash because he, a wealthy opportunist, can swoop in and buy properties at bargain rates. Those made homeless by his actions? He won’t care.

So there you have it, readers. Our job, as progressive activists, is to educate as many of the potentially misled voters as possible. They don’t get Trump; and they don’t know that he definitely doesn’t get them.

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Banana Bread with Strawberries

Ah, good intentions. The road to you-know-where is paved with good intentions. I planned to share another in-season recipe last week, and the time and the baking got away from me. Here’s a recipe that used to include maraschino cherries. Now it has strawberries, very ripe and juicy, in a classic banana bread.

Banana Bread With Berries

Ingredients:

1/2 cup butter (one stick)

1 cup sugar

2 eggs

1 teaspoon vanilla

3 ripe or very ripe bananas, mashed

1 teaspoon baking soda

1/4 teaspoon salt

2 cups flour (whole wheat pastry flour is my favorite)

1/2 cup chocolate chips

1/2 to 1 cup fresh, ripe strawberries

Directions:

Combine butter, sugar, eggs, vanilla, bananas, baking soda, and salt; mix well. Mix in strawberries and chocolate chips. Add flour; mix well until all is moist. Pour into loaf pan or mini loaf pans (my favorite) or muffin tins. Bake at 350 degrees. Large loaf pans: 50 minutes. Small loaf pans: 35-40 minutes. Muffin tins: 25-30 minutes.

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Those red flags – the warning signs

We educators call them “red flags.”  They’re the metaphorical sticky notes in bright colors to call attention to a detail, an incident, an important event in a student’s record. Omar Mateen’s record – indeed, his life – was bristling with red flags.

Mateen was interviewed by the FBI not once, but three times.

Mateen’s ex-wife called him abusive and suggested he was mentally ill.

In his early school days, he was called “disruptive.” Educators noted that he seemed to feel no remorse. Terms like oppositional, lack of self-control, aggressive, rude, verbally abusive describe the young Mateen.

His middle and high school years were filled with suspensions. The details of these suspensions are not public, but include Fighting with Injury. 

His employment record wasn’t stellar, either. This guy had a background – a reputation, at the very least. From steroid use to inflammatory comments, he managed to get released from several jobs.

My concern, however, is that this young man showed signs of needing help when he was very young. His teachers, his counselors, the police school liaison officers, and most likely the administrators and deans all recognized that Omar was lacking somehow, somewhere. All those red flags! All that trouble! And then what happened?

Nothing. Despite behavior and emotional troubles, this young man went out into the world and earned a horrific place in the history books. He’s not the only mass shooter to leave a trail of red flags. 20/20 hindsight, people, isn’t enough. It’s time to pay attention. When educators point out students with potential for violence, it’s time for the world to listen.

 

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Garden: The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

The good: Garlic is growing well.

The bad: Garlic isn’t full grown yet – no bulbs of multiple cloves.

The ugly: The onions nearby are too small, but seem ripe.

Good: Lettuce is starting to look good!

Bad: Spinach is notably absent.

Ugly: Broccoli has gone AWOL. Bunnies?

Good: We have a family of bunnies in the backyard!

Bad: The bunnies found their way into my peas and beans.

Ugly: We have a family of bunnies in the backyard!

Good: Baby raccoons are cute.

Bad: In a group, raccoons can open the compost bin.

Ugly: The neighborhood raccoon family thinks my compost is lunch.

Good: We have several farmers’ markets in my neck of the woods.

Bad: There’s a bad?

Ugly: A poor garden yield may drive me to the markets more often. More Often? I already go to at least two a week! This could be fun.

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Fun with Planters

Folks who’ve been reading me for a while might remember that I had a papasan turned planter in my front yard. I now have a new-to-me papasan and a few more goodies.

Fun with flowers!

Fun with flowers!

On the table: a few herbs and an experiment: hula berries.

On the ground: purple hued grasses, hopefully due to grow taller. In front, the puppy with geraniums in place of doggie dishes. The puppy (a thrift store fun find) has faded in the years I’ve had him/her in the rock garden, but it’s always fun to find a pot or two to display in the pup. The other pot on the ground is actually a wooden bucket surrounded with what looks like bamboo or rattan. I picked it up at a rummage sale and thought it might look good next to the papasan. The table, with its rattan trim, came from the same sale.

I think this scene, so to speak, will evolve as the plants grow. I’ll share, I promise!

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Dueling National Security Statements

Donald Trump, from Twitter: “Appreciate the congrats on being right on radical Islamic terrorism.”

Congrats? Being right? What the…? Apparently, he’s feeling full of himself because he feels “right” about radical Islamic terrorism as he understands it. He can blame the 140 character limit for not explaining his so-called correctness and why someone might congratulate him in the aftermath of a horrific mass shooting.

It takes an ego like Trump’s to turn the worst mass shooting in United States history into a boost for himself. He didn’t specify how he’d been “right” or who had congratulated him or how he had received those congratulations. Frankly, no one knows if anyone gave him a boost or if any atta-boys were all in his narrow but active imagination.

Meanwhile, President Obama spoke. He expressed sympathy for the victims, their friends, and their families. He pointed out the courage of police and first responders who rushed in as others rushed out. Then, as he progressed in a statement that showed empathy for all involved and all affected, he reminded us of a terrible truth.

This massacre is therefore a further reminder of how easy it is for someone to get their hands on a weapon that lets them shoot people in a school, or in a house of worship, or a movie theater, or in a nightclub. And we have to decide if that’s the kind of country we want to be. And to actively do nothing is a decision as well.

As for actively doing nothing, Trump still opposes a ban on assault weapons. He thinks such a ban would prevent people from protecting themselves.

No one needs an assault rifle. Hunters don’t need them. Security guards don’t need them. Military inspired assault rifles have one purpose: to kill many people in a short period of time. As we spend time in prayers and in candlelight vigils, all of us need to become active. Prayers and candles will not stop mass killings from happening and indeed, from happening with increasing frequency.

It’s time to take action. Lawmakers, do you hear me? Radicalized, mentally ill, “disturbed,” no matter what the reason, our country needs to make it hard – no, impossible – for killers to gain possession of assault rifles.

It’s time to stand up and speak up, and then to make this killing machine illegal.

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Mis-fortune cookie

Is it plagiarism when the fortune in your cookie has the first four lines of a Langston Hughes poem?

 

Hold fast to dreams

For if dreams die

Life is a broken-winged bird

That cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreams

For when dreams go

Life is a barren field

Frozen with snow.

That was Chuck’s fortune. Mine just suggest asking a special someone out for a date. I think getting Chinese take-out was our date, actually.

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