Election Day, COVID-19, and Mississippi Burning all over again

Today would normally be a very long day for me, starting at 5:00 a.m. and concluding around 9:00 p.m. -- assuming everything goes smoothly. Then of course, the late night waiting for results to come in. Even though it is long, I love Election Day! I love seeing democracy in action. I love helping people as they cast their ballot, being a part of their government and their own destiny. I know it is silly, but I even love handing out those “I Voted” stickers! So, while it was a very hard decision for me, I unfortunately will not be working the polls today and here is why.

This election was moved from early June to June 23^rd by the Governor of Virginia because of COVID-19 restrictions, which I hailed as a smart move at the time. I was also excited when Fairfax county encouraged voters to protect their health during the COVID-19 outbreak by voting absentee either by mail and in-person to spread out crowds, for all upcoming elections, and actively pushed this on social media and through aggressive marketing. 

When our election officers’ emails came out in late May, I was impressed with the contingency response plan they had developed. The state would provide PPE kits for polling places and required election officers to wear face masks and gloves at their stations. They would provide hand sanitizer in all polling places. The plan required that voters maintain a 6-foot distance from each other and from election officers at all times and limited the number of voters and companions in the voting room to no more than 10. They would provide voters with single-use pens and single-use privacy folders. There would be no "I Voted" stickers to minimize contact between officers and voters (okay, that one made me a little sad, but it was a good call). They would direct any election officers displaying symptoms of allergies or illness (e.g. coughing, sneezing) that might be interrupted as COVID symptoms to go home.

But then came the kicker. They would "strongly encourage" voters to wear face masks, but they would not be required. This is where I had an enormous problem with the plan. I am REQUIRED to wear a face mask to go and conduct business at the US Post Office, or at any indoor essential or non-essential businesses in Virginia. I am required to wear a mask at libraries; in medical waiting rooms; at indoor church services; while on public transportation and on most domestic airline flights; inside food and beverage establishments, except when eating or drinking; at my own private summer membership club when indoors or interacting with staff; even when accessing Virginia and Fairfax government services. And I am totally fine with that requirement. It protects both me and others. 

There are stated exemptions, of course, situations in which people do not have to wear a cloth face covering while using indoor public spaces. These include: while eating or drinking; while exercising or using exercise equipment; anyone who has a breathing problem or health issue that would put their health at risk by wearing a cloth face covering; anyone communicating with people who are hearing impaired for which the mouth needs to be visible; when temporary removal of the face covering is needed to get medical or governmental services. I DO NOT see going to a polling place to vote on that list of exemptions.

Since receiving our Election Officers email in May, I have been in conversation with state and local authorities about the lack of a requirement that voters wear a face mask. On June 10, I sent a final attempt email to the Fairfax County Office of Elections which stated: “With Phase 2 going into effect on Friday and reading the guidelines as published, I am curious what the rationale is for not requiring masks of voters in the polls? It appears that the governor's order and guidance provided on the Fairfax County site would be read to require masks in these instances. (See, https://www.fairfaxcounty.gov/covid19/face-coverings) I appreciate that you intend to require poll workers to wear face masks throughout their shift, which will make for an especially long day with other added restrictions and safety procedures, even beyond the usual long day, but completely necessary. So it seems particularly perplexing that you wouldn't also require such protection OF voters and BY voters who, although they will only be in the building for a short time, can certainly be a vehicle for contagion to both poll workers and to fellow voters. If the concern is that voters who do not wish to wear a mask, regardless of the governor's orders or those few who might be exempt per the governor’s order, might claim that they are being denied their vote, the simple answer is to allow them to vote absentee OR request a curb-side vote at the polls on election day. I would love nothing more than to serve in the upcoming June 23rd election, but I simply cannot risk my health and the health of my family because someone simply doesn't want to wear a mask, in clear violation of the governor's orders, and when other means are available for them to vote.”

The county election staff’s answer, which came swiftly so was likely a canned response and certainly did not address my suggestions to allow alternate means for those who chose not to where a mask to vote, stated “Based on guidance from the State Board of Elections (issued after the Governor’s order), we cannot require voters to wear masks. In short, a person’s right to vote supersedes the order to wear a face mask. To do otherwise would be considered voter disenfranchisement.  We are simply following the directive from the state on this matter.”

My ultimate answer: Some things are simply not worth dying in a ditch for. I withdrew from working the polls on June 23^rd.

Much like the recently implemented flight screenings at some airports – where they will take your temperature and if you have one will pull you aside for further screening and “recommend” that you not travel, but will not prohibit it (https://www.washingtonpost.com/travel/2020/06/22/lax-is-testing-fever-detecting-cameras-passengers-depart-arrive/) – these efforts to “recommend” a mask to voters are pointless without any enforcement. If you are a Seinfeld fan, you will likely recall the episode about taking a car rental reservation versus holding the reservation. This is similar, except on a very deadly level. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EaAeUQrVw4c

Think about who will show up at the polls today. Part of my final decision to not work this election comes from the fact that there are no contested Democratic races so the only candidates on the ballot in my district are a three-way primary race for the Republican challenger to incumbent Senator Mark Warner. Thus, voters showing up today will likely be Republicans, who are largely those adamantly opposed in social media to wearing a mask. That means that my risk of exposure to a potentially deadly disease is highly amplified. Thus, I am good with my decision to sit this one out.

But what about November’s election? Having watched the recent elections in Wisconsin and elsewhere, where masked voters stood in long lines for hours at the height of COVID active cases in highly contested races – God love them for their bravery and dedication to democracy – immediately, the decision becomes a bit more complicated for working November’s election.  
[Note: You can register to vote absentee in Virginia in November here: https://www.fairfaxcounty.gov/elections/absentee] 

A couple of nights ago we watched “Mississippi Burning” a 1988 film about the 1964 murder of three poll workers, Chaney, Goodman and Schwerner who went to Mississippi to register black voters. (***currently streaming on Amazon Prime Video, but due for removal on June 30, so please see it NOW as it is totally worth it and staggeringly on point with today’s issues.) It is a remarkable movie, that makes you sad to realize that we are in fact still dealing with most of the race issues that we were dealing with 50 years ago.

Much of the resurgence of hatred in America I blame on our current President and the ugliness that he and his racist followers have brought again to the forefront of the American experience. Great Again? My ass! He has revived evil itself and it is time that we eliminate it forever rather than simply place it in a neatly contained racist box of controlling African Americans and other minorities through police actions and incarcerations. We have much work to do to make things right, and it starts with police reform, prison reform, and the November election. Please join me in being a part of that change. I will not be missing working the polls at the November election, because that is something absolutely worth dying in a ditch for. 

Renwick Gallery's No Spectator: Art of Burning Man exhibit

What My Dog Taught Me

He was born May 12, 2008 as Lite It Up to a dog track breeder in Florida. He ran only seven races, won one, and placed in two others. It seems that he was clearly destined for better things than just chasing a mechanical rabbit around a track.

When he came off the track in late July of 2010, his foster mom, Becky, called him Mister and wrote in her foster report that he was "a sweet, beautiful, tender boy." He was also a big boy at about 100 pounds, which is huge for a greyhound. Becky noted that he was the gentlest of giants and a bit shy. She also noted that he was truly very special and she would like to know where he ultimately ended up. Clearly he made an impression on her. I have been in touch with Becky over the years and she was, of course, added to my ever-growing Christmas card list.

He joined us on December 31, 2010, and became Fog the Dog, the center of our family, and my own personal teacher, my zen master. Becky's description had left out one key quality of this magnificent creature - namely, that he was wise beyond imagination, and over the years I have learned so much from him.

Fog didn't much care for walks; he was really too shy to be out in the big world. But he loved to run in our backyard, especially if you would clap and cheer for him! "Go, go, go!" "That a boy!" Clap, clap, clap. He would run in huge circles at breakneck speed, zipping past you by a fraction of an inch. Sometimes you could actually feel the breeze as he ran by. Especially exuberant clapping would make him run even faster and garner an extra lap or two. Everyone enjoys praise and encouragement, right? Even from a crowd of one; maybe especially from a crowd of one. Great lesson, Fog.

Some of his favorite running was in snow. During Snowmaggedon, in February 2010, that dog was like a kid on Christmas morning, which was oddly amusing coming from a Florida boy who had never even seen snow, much less had to plow through it chest-deep just to go to the bathroom. But he was so happy during that storm and every year after when snow came. He would run - well more of a hop reminiscent of rabbits or foxes bounding across the surface of the arctic snow. His speed allowed him to almost skim the surface, but his size made him sink ever so slightly. He attacked the snow, biting at it and flipping it into the air, keeping his face up, eyes closed, letting it fall back onto him, enjoying the moment. He even laid down on his back and flailed his legs in the air as if he was making snow angels. My take-away lesson from his sheer joy of snow, unfamiliar things can bring you surprising happiness. Never be afraid to try something new.

Fog enjoyed digging in the kids' sandbox and lying in its coolness on hot summer days. And he dug in Jim's freshly-turned spring vegetable garden soil. Unfortunately, that meant that he was constantly dragging sand into the house and disrupting seedlings struggling to get a start, so we put up barriers to the sandbox and fenced the garden area. I sort of feel a bit guilty about that now, but that's not how he would want it. He was perfectly content to find another place of pleasure, to lie in the soft grass and soak up sunshine instead or contort himself into pretzel-like positions on the thick cushy dog sofa that my mom made for him. Other than the soft, fluffy mediums of sand and highly-improved soil though, he never dug in anything else. The hard work of digging Virginia clay soil held no appeal. I guess maybe he was really onto something -- namely that sometimes it is okay to take the easy way, not try to make something what it is not; to give yourself a break and just enjoy the softness of life. And also to be flexible and not let disappointments get you down but instead move along and find something else that brings you happiness, another soft place to land.

"Outdoor treats" of dog ice cream from Dairy Godmother and pig ears were his favorite treats. He would gingerly take them from you in the kitchen and when you said the words "outdoor treat" he would trot to the back door and patiently wait to be let out. He never ate an outdoor treat in the house. Once our trusty dogsitter gave him a pig ear which we found, untouched, in the center of our livingroom floor when we got home from our trip; she hadn't realized he wouldn't eat it in the house. Lesson learned - know the rules, follow them, and you will be rewarded, but no cheating. Also, be patient and good things will come your way.

Fog was not into dog toys, and trust me we tried them all - rope toys, food related toys like Kongs, squeeky toys, balls, frisbees, soft huggable lovable toys. He had a treasure trove of untouched toys. He just wasn't interested. Like zero interest. What made him happy was a good scratch behind the ears; hearing you talk to him, with those big brown eyes looking as though he was hanging onto and understanding every word; being brushed, endlessly; and a good howl fest, which he would only do if instigated to by one of us and then he would join in and keep going until we quit first. But mostly he was happy just being in the same room with his people, often literally touching me as he laid at my feet. His shared wisdom was simply that a good life is not about things, but about spending simple times with those that you love.

Yesterday, September 29, 2017, we held him and simply loved him as he slipped into another world, a world without the pain that he had endured for weeks now (probably much longer as he was always a stoic guy) from the bone cancer in his leg. He went out with his usual grace and dignity. It made me realize that is how we all should be allowed to go. And to me, he will always be a true winner for the beautiful soul that he was and the things that he taught me. Thank you, Fog, you were a great teacher.

Seekers: And Now For Something Completely Different

This is it. My oldest daughter will be starting her senior year of high school in a couple of days. My youngest just got her driving learner's permit. It is about to get real. Changes are underfoot.

I have never been one to shy away from change. I have been a soldier, a professional photographer, an actress, an elections lawyer, a master gardener, a website developer, a writer, a Chinese brush painter, a gym rat, a circus arts addict, a music and theatre arts promoter, an editor. I usually find myself heading in a completely different direction, reinventing myself before I make it to about the seven year mark, at most, of any endeavor. I guess this makes me sort of a modern-day renaissance woman.

I have joked for years with my husband that he has survived my seven-year-itch affliction several times over. I'm not sure if that is something he actually appreciates or has simply endured. I realize that my life is a bit meandering. Being his wife and mother to our two girls have really been the only things in my entire life so far that I haven't eventually become disenchanted with and walked away.

As a child I recall being asked what I wanted to be when I grew up. I always hated that question. As if I must choose one thing and be saddled with it for a lifetime. That to me sounded like hell - Sisyphus forever pushing that boulder up the hill, the Death of a Salesman. Even as an adult, one all too often gets the question, "what do you do?" An equally loathsome question for those of us who are always moving forward, looking for the next opening, doing and creating on multiple fronts, both simultaneously and linearly, forever seeking to find the things that will sustain us until we find something else new and exciting.

We are increasingly living in a time that values the expert, the specialist, and to be such requires that one focus on a single subject or discipline. Otherwise one risks the label of an amateur, dabbler, dilettante, dallier, or jack-of-all trades/master of none, which I have learned to wear as a badge of honor. Often, though, such labels leave us feeling confused or ashamed for simply being our true, authentic, multi-dimensional selves. Honestly, humans were not meant to do the same thing for a lifetime; that is what robots are for. As humans, we are meant to be explorers, to experience, to be Seekers. 

Seekers make way for possibility and invention. Seekers see things in a very different way than others do and can often find solutions that elude most. Seekers can actually be quite successful. Here are a few wonderful examples of Seekers in history and the present: Ben Franklin was a politician, writer, musician, scientist and inventor.  Leonardo DaVinci was an inventor, painter, philosopher, poet, architect, engineer, physician, writer, stage designer, theologist, astronomer, actor, singer, and yes, even a court jester. Arnold Schwarzenegger has reinvented himself as a bodybuilder, actor, producer, author, philanthropist, activist, politician, investor and businessman. Temple Grandin, a remarkable modern-day renaissance woman, is a scientist, professor, activist (for autism, animal rights, and food safety), author, inventor, and motivational speaker. Not bad company to be in.  

My oldest daughter doesn't know what she wants to study in college, so right now she is having trouble figuring out where she wants to go. I am having trouble getting through to her that few people do know and that is okay. I want her to be a Seeker. I want her to have diverse experiences and live a life of learning and searching for that next something that will make her happy and challenge her, whether that is in a lifelong pursuit or just for seven years or less at a time. 

A Pained Veteran Seeking the Glorification of Peace

It gets harder and harder to bear. There is Veteran's Day on November 11, and then there is Flag Day (June 14), and Memorial Day (May 29), and Independence Day (July 4). And most of Americans lump them all together and think they are supposed to celebrate the American military and military achievements on those days, thereby creating a culture of Glorification of War. Where, I ask you, is the Glorification of Peace?

In reality, Memorial Day is for those who have paid the ultimate price of war -- death. A truly sacred honor that should not be bestowed on others who simply serve. Something that none of us actually desires for our loved ones, but a commendable state just the same and certainly worth of a moment of recognition. In fact, a long hard moment! I get acknowledging the dead. Those who have died in combat, not just died at a ripe old age, having served their country at some point in their long lifetime, like myself.

I do so very much appreciate soldiers and families that sacrifice a more comfortable life for our freedoms (Veterans Day). It is not an easy job for the service member or their family. Showing appreciation for their sacrifice is long overdue and short on true thanks.

I love our American history, that we decided to break away from England (Independence Day). And I recognize that time in history has brought us all to where we are today. Seriously? I would not want to be involved in Brexit right now, although these days we certainly have our own cross to bear as Americans. But still, hooray for Independence Day. But, that does not mean we should continue our warring ways.

I ask, where is the celebration of the many years of Peace in America. You know, the "good years" without war. Why don't we have a national celebration for that? Why are millions of dollars pumped into war instead of into peace? When will we celebrate Peace?

Where were you?

Most of us didn't know, first-hand, someone who died on September 11, 2001, but some of us knew someone who knew someone. Even those who had no tenuous connection felt the impact. After all, 2,996 people actually died in the events of that day and thousands more were injured, tens of thousands if you include the latent medical issues of first responders. The scope was simply beyond comprehension, and yet somehow we all had to deal with the massiveness of the pain and suffering, and wrap our heads around something so evil and horrific.   

All of us old enough to remember that day can tell the story of where we were and how it directly or indirectly impacted our own lives. Each year on the anniversary of 9/11 it seems we tell and retell our own personal accounts of that day to family and friends. These stories have helped us to try to make sense of something that does not and should not make any sense. These stories also help us to remember and to be strong against those who would wish us harm.

After the shooting at the Fort Lauderdale airport, I compiled and posted on Facebook a list of mass shootings since Columbine and asked "where were you?" It was meant to be a literal questioning of whether people actually remembered where they were when these horrible events unfolded. Everyone voiced anger and frustration that yet another mass shooting had happened. No one actually answered my question, "where were you?" I think I know why.

Where were you when 12 people were killed and 58 injured in a movie theatre? You don't recall do you? But have you been to see a movie since? Of course you have. Life goes on. At least, if you're lucky - not in the wrong place at the wrong time - it does.

You send your kids off to school every morning, even though 13 died and 21 were wounded at Columbine High School in 1999; even though 32 died and 24 were injured at Virginia Tech in 2007; even though in 2012, in Newtown Connecticut, 27 were killed and one injured in an elementary school, of all places. Students today have enough pressures without worrying every single day whether they will live or die. And as parents we should be able to send them to school with a reasonable expectation that they will be safe.

Six died and 13 were injured in a Safeway parking lot in 2011? Where were you when it happened. I don't recall where I was, but  I was at my local Safeway this morning. Unfortunately, I am there practically every day, sometimes twice a day. By the way, I recently did have a frightening incident in a Safeway parking lot with a woman who was clearly mentally unstable. If she had had a gun in her car at the time, I might have not been fortunate enough to be writing this now. That event rocked me to my core. I am still having difficulties recovering and I wasn't even physically injured.

Where were you when 5 died and 8 were injured in an airport yesterday? What if it had happened in a different airport a week ago when you were traveling back from holiday visits. How is it that you have to remove your shoes and can't carry a bottle of water into an airport, but someone can check a bag with an automatic weapon and ammunition and have easy access to it in an airport terminal?

We shake our heads and talk about how horrible these shootings are each time one happens.  We demand that something must be done. We blame gun lobbyists.  We blame Congress. We blame mental health policies. Statistics are cited and disputed and recited for a different spin - and let's be honest, numbers can often be manipulated to prove any point that you are making or counter someone else's point. Yet we are all incensed that this can keep happening in America, whatever the cause.

Then we go about our lives and forget. And it happens again, these random shootings in schools, churches, shopping centers, restaurants, theaters, workplaces, airports - ordinary places that we and our children go to every day. We forget and it keeps happening.

Who is remembering the aftermath of those killed or injured in mass shootings in America? Certainly the families and friends of those directly impacted remember vividly the day that their loved one was taken by a gunman or survivors when their lives were forever changed. The rest of us might vaguely recall the shock and anger of hearing of yet another mass shooting, but likely you won't ever have to remember, until it happens to you. 

To those who remember exactly where they were when one of these horrifying events on this ever growing list occurred, I am sorry that we can't do better. I am sorry that we can't seem to solve a problem that has been with us for far too long. I am sorry that you do not have the luxury of not knowing where you or your loved ones were. And to those who don't recall where you were, I hope you never have to but please don't forget that it can all change on any ordinary day, in any ordinary place, in the blink of an eye. It's time we remember and take action.

http://everytown.org/

https://momsdemandaction.org/ 

I hope to see some of you at the MDA Alexandria meeting on Thursday, February 16, 7pm at TJ Stones. Contact me if you need a ride.

Take action - find an event near you:
http://act.everytown.org/event/moms-demand-action-event/search/?source=etno_ETActPage&utm_source=et_n_&utm_medium=_o&utm_campaign=ETActPage 

52Frames: A Year of Photos, Friendships, and Finding My Way

My submission to this week's album in the 52Frames project marks my official Frameversary, my 52nd submission, so congrats to me! Okay, full disclosure, due to my complete hatred of self portraits and an administrative glitch with the signed manifesto at the beginning of 2016, I missed the first two weeks of 2016, but I started in mid December 2015 so I have 52 ACTUAL, if not sequential, submissions. So, yeah, I am considering that a win. (I haven't quite figured out what I am going to do with the coming week which is self portrait again - guess it is time to get uber creative and face my fears!) Being a part of this project has taught me a lot about photography, but also things about myself, and about the importance of being a part of something bigger than yourself.

I can't say that it has been easy. Just getting out there and shooting every week is hard. And the photography submission part has often been the most challenging. Some weeks there have been too many good shots to choose from - a blessing, I know, but still hard when friends and family make it even harder by all liking a different image when you can only submit one! It took me way too long, but I finally learned that on those weeks it is simply best to go with my gut and then just let it go. (It is true that Burning Man started me down that road of learning how to let go, but this project has honed those skills and added a few other life-changing skills. And, yes, the week of photography at Burning Man this year was mind-blowing, even if no image actually taken at Burning Man was ever a 52Frames submission. I know, crazy right!) Some weeks were hard because I was not inspired by the theme or I had difficulties getting my ideas translated to images. Some weeks, well as we on the project committee like to say ... Life! ... but I still managed to get in a submission even if I wasn't entirely thrilled with it. Like anything that is challenging, when you manage to stick with it, you come to realize that it is worth the effort. Staying with this project has made me a better artist.

Practicing my photography again has forced me to see "things" in a whole new light, in ways I once did but had forgotten. Aside from the beauty I see through the lens, this project helps me to see people, including myself (okay mostly myself!), differently. Hopefully that has made me a better person. The weekly themed challenges often have a way of making me deal with issues that until now I have been unable to recognize or have pushed to the back burner for years. Sometimes these self-revelations occur while shooting. Often they happen while choosing an image for submission, when I choose an image not because it is necessarily the best image, or even the best image for the challenge, but instead for reasons that have to do with my own feelings or something that I need to face head on and work on. Those instances usually come through loud and clear in the write-ups that accompany the photos. (I have often said that I am a better writer than a photographer anyway, so perhaps I need to find a similar project for writing! LOL! Seriously, anyone know of one?). And on those weeks, the project wasn't just about photography but helped me in some profound way, a sort of photo therapy. Some weeks it let me laugh or cry when that was what I needed most. Some made me understand and appreciate my own perspective on the world. A few made me see that my images being "liked" or commented on by others is not always the most productive and needed aspect of the project, or of life for that matter. Those I like to call my "consequences be damned" images, and they are typically my favorites. Some things we do simply for ourselves and that is important.

Then there are the friendships. I have local real world, everyday friends in the family fold of 52Frames - thank you to Julie, Laura, and Susan for all the hand holding in this project and in life generally, and to my most important friends, my husband and my two daughters, who support my participation in this project whether it is as a model for a photo shoot, helping me decide on submissions, or just tolerating my late night photo editing and website work. I have befriended some wonderful people from all over the globe through this project as virtual friends, and I am not talking about "friends" strictly in Facebook terms, but people that I feel a true connection with, that I enjoy their art, their conversation, and learning about them and their own hopes, dreams and challenges, besides studying and practicing photography with them. And the committee folks of 52Frames are some of the kindest, funniest, most generous and amazing people I have ever met; but then if you are involved in the project you already know that, you just don't get to see the personal behind the scenes hard work and silliness that happens. I do, and for that I am very grateful.

52Frames is a brilliant project, a wonderful community of creative and supportive people, and it has been my saving grace in a year that has had many challenges. It is a true gift - better than anything that can be wrapped and put under a tree. I'm not sure that I can ever thank its creator, Yosef Adest, enough for his vision and for making it happen each and every week. I am thrilled to contribute where I can, to be a part of something bigger than myself, because I believe so strongly in the project. Besides participating, I have been updating the 52Frames website weekly since spring, I serve on the committee, and I am a patron of the project. My involvement has made me appreciate the project even more. I encourage everyone in the project to push yourself to submit weekly and be involved however you can, even if your involvement is simply making time to enjoy and comment on the art of others. Do it for you. You'll be surprised how much more you get out of the project if you do.

As we all get ready to start a new year that will bring who knows what, I plan to hold on to things that matter, let go of a lot, take lots of photos, and do my best to make each day special for me and for those that I care about. After all, that is really the best you can do. Peace, love, and creativity to you all in 2017.

To see my album of 2016 52Frames Submissions, and a few extra favorite images that I couldn't quite bring myself to let go of, click here. And if you missed my Burning Man photos from this year, they are here. To view the Ted Talk by Yosef Adest, founder of 52 Frames, click here - it might just change your life. And if you would like to join the 52Frames project -- you don't have to be a pro photographer, just a human! -- visit the site here.