When can you start, Barack? (or...respectfully, president, sir, can you get some empathy now?)

Craig Ferguson's joke, relating to Obama's visit to Baghdad and the Iraqi leaders asking him this question, made me laugh. It's good to have an occasional laugh when reading the newspaper. Dad gets upset a lot. He's not really very optimistic about either of the two presidential candidates. I understand political malaise, and in general, would listen to him and nod in agreement. But this year I happen to be very excited about one candidate, and I'm hoping to help dad join in. (I'm trying to not rant about politics. Kelly has suggested that this isn't the most effective way to communicate one's view, and I think he could be on to something...)

There was another thing in the newspaper today that was not very funny. "Bush uncensored: 'Wall Street got drunk'" (originally reported in the Houson Chronicle). I read the sad piece and then, really feeling more sad than angry, considered the stark lack of empathy than our current president appears to possess. We talk about empathy a lot in education. We talk about how to teach it, understanding that, for many, it is not an inborn trait. Certainly, some children appear to have lots of it, and they grow up to be sensitive, nurturing and often emotionally healthy adults.

Some adults didn't learn empathy from their parents or their teachers or their life experiences or any other way. President Bush clearly falls into this category. How can a leader, charged with leading a proud people, make jokes about the economy or the housing slump when vast numbers of his people are suffering under said unfortunate conditions?

"And then we got a housing issue, not in Houston, and evidently, not in Dallas, because Laura was over there trying to buy a house today." Said our humble leader.

"Before friendly audiences, especially in Texas, Bush tends to be more relaxed and candid than he appears at the White House."

So we can expect that when our president is "candid," he feels comfortable enough to show how insensitive and uncaring and lacking in empathy he truly is? It is possible that these comments were taken completely out of context. Given his position, however, and the current financial woes of the ever-growing middle class, how could jokes such as these ever be appropriate? We have certainly had more than enough proof that he really isn't "a man of the people" like so many of the citizens who voted for him (twice) wanted to believe. We wanted to believe that being inarticulate and smug equaled being "one of us."

Problem is, we don't make the issue of empathy central to how we evaluate our potential leaders. We ought to look at their lives, their experiences, the reading they engage in and how they treat others (among many other things) to determine how they might empathize with our need and pain in troubled times.

Problem is, it probably won't be an important issue this time around, either. One could argue that both Obama and McCain possess certain amounts of empathy. But right now the bar isn't very high. Obama has already been called aloof and "out of touch" with the average working class American. Is that because we can't imagine him sitting down and having a beer with us? We need to learn, as a country, to distinguish true and sincere empathy from other "qualities" that we might often confuse with empathy.

I'm going to be watching Mr. Obama, and studying his life, for signals that he can "walk in our shoes," including the shoes of the most disenfranchised among us. I'm going to hope that he'll build policy that will reflect this.

For the time being, Mr. Bush, look up "empathy" in the dictionary, and figure out how to get some for yourself.

How we Eat

We took dad to the Sweetwater Restaurant for his 85th birthday. Sweetwater is my favorite east Sacramento neighborhood spot. I knew we would win there because the menu includes both traditional fare and creative cuisine-type items. I LOVE their wedge salad (with grilled, carmelized onion, bacon chunks and the richest blue cheese dressing around)--ok, ok, I know that a wedge salad is made with iceberg and not arugula, but I'm not that much of a food snob. Their grilled artichoke is killer. Mostly, we order off the appetizer menu, and have never been disappointed.

Dad selected the pork loin with garlic mashed potatoes and green beans. He wasn't disappointed either. Dad likes simple, midwestern-type food. He isn't very adventurous when it comes to dining. He could live out his days on a diet of german bologna and pale bread, with ice cream thrown in for good measure. No offense to dad's midwestern sensibilities, it's just that he has lived rather extensive portions of his life in California, and well, you'd think he'd enjoy this great state's food just a bit more.

I've been fortunate enough to either live in or spend considerable time in every great (and large) city in this state, and those sojourns have contributed to a palate that is both curious and, for lack of a better word, dignified. A food writer I am not. And I'm only really snobbish when it comes to coffee, ice cream and wine (if someone else is buying). But dad is still happy at predictable chain restaurants like the ones he and mom took us out to during childhood. Eating out, together, is a challenge for us.

He isn't fond of Mexican food and sushi (Eva and Emilio's current culinary obsession) is beyond reason. Nor does he like Indian, Thai or anything else remotely ethnic.

We're going to have to navigate this dining out issue. Really though, he's 85, and he can eat, or not eat, anything he darn well pleases.

For now, I think we'll stick to the Sweetwater. We can all be happy there.

(blogger's block)

This blog is clogged...due to its writer's inertia. Oh, I've a thousand good reasons for not writing--reveling in the afterglow of Africa, tending to household business, preparing dad for his trip to Oregon--good reasons, you see. But the single biggest factor is that I suffer from my own fear of committing to the words on the page (or screen). (My dear friend Rui is currently suffering from the very same malady--come on, Rui, write that thesis! Let go of the fear and make haste with the words inside of you!) Truth is, I'm in good company with writers the world over. And I'm not writing the greatest book ever written, I'm just trying to be disciplined with this little ol' blog.

Really, I'm pathetic. I've created this fictitious audience inside my head and they're a tough group to satisfy. If I don't write anything, I can't fail them. Ha! I laugh at myself! This blog was born both to chronicle an important phase in my family life AND to get me writing--to help me enter the discipline of consistent writing...audience is icing...

So I whine and make excuses no more!

And I create another post this very moment...

A Big Adventure in Tanzania...(dad holds down the fort)

Eva, Emilio and I returned from Tanzania day before yesterday. We had a really big adventure. The beloved Bordens (of Wild Hope fame), my dear friends from college days in Santa Barbara, opened their home to us and showed us a grand time. We experienced their East African life for just a spell, and came to love the Masai land they call home.

This is a much bigger story, of course. The real point here is that while we were off galavanting around the globe, dad was here, alone in the house and in charge of making sure that all ran smoothly. I think he felt a little abandoned, and I'm afraid that with the thrill of preparing to depart, I didn't look forward to anticipate how he would adjust to being alone.

Ten years ago he would have been less lonely. Now (he's 85 today), he has fears about leaving the house. I admit that I wasn't prepared for this. Dear Kelly stepped in (he wasn't prepared either) and helped dad through these past three weeks. They took road trips and dined together and K. called dad each day, just to check in.

Two other dear friends here offered to share meals with dad. It takes a village. I am grateful.

But I still have to figure out how to get dad out and about more...my big task for the month of July.

All in all, dad did a great job of feeding the pets and cleaning the litter boxes and sweeping the floors and keeping the house lived in and loved. And I'm sure he spent just a few quiet moments thinking of his own Africa days, in the northern reaches of the continent, when he and mom met while teaching and travelled the land together.

It's a big place, that Africa. Glad we've both been able to experience just a wee bit of it.