Breadcrumbs

When I deleted my old blog, it had more than 8,000 subscribers.

It was hard to say goodbye to that, but it was important, too. I’d come to have an unhealthy relationship with all things online. I needed to step away, and deleting my blog was one important piece of that stepping toward better.

Unfortunately, it turned out I didn’t have copies of all my most important posts, some of which appeared to be lost to the Internet Archive.

Last night, I was just on the verge of sleep last night when it hit me: I’d gotten dates wrong in a recent post!

No big deal, I thought. I’ll just find the right dates in a minute or two, update stuff, and then it’s Snoozeville for me.

This isn’t, as you might have already intuited, what actually ended up happening. Continue reading “Breadcrumbs”

32 years: One road from Jesse to Bernie

Yesterday, driving into downtown Los Angeles with my ten-year-old son, it hit me: I was about his age when my mom took me to see a presidential contender speak!

In May 1988, my mom took me out of school to see Jesse Jackson speak at the University of Oregon’s Mac Court. While she wasn’t necessarily a huge fan, she loved the idea of me seeing democracy in action. 

I don’t remember one word spoken there at Mac Court. Mostly I remember being surrounded by throngs of people and excited by the rush of their collective energy.

Until yesterday, though, I’d imagined that was the energy of maybe a couple thousand Eugeneans.

Yesterday, searching the web for info on the rally, I was startled to discover the rally was much larger than I realized. Per the L.A. Times, “About 14,000 people turned out last week for Jackson at the University of Oregon in Eugene, one of the biggest crowds he has drawn anywhere in the country.”

Something else about that article leapt out at me, but I’ll get back to that.

Continue reading “32 years: One road from Jesse to Bernie”

The Vote

Today, I cast my first-ever physical polling place vote.

I’ve been eligible to vote by mail every single election since I reached voting age. This means I’ve voted by mail my entire voting career.

This year, in a general state of frazzlement, I set my vote-by-mail ballot some special, secret place I’d for-sure never forget.

Translated, this means it was inevitable I’d forget it. Continue reading “The Vote”