I am Woman, Hear Me Roar, "Yo Ho Ho!"

For days, I've been obsessed with the UPS tracker, that handy little digital tool that lets me see where my stuff is as it makes its journey to the nook in my garage door.

I've been waiting for a package - a purchase I'm sure others would find silly, but to me, is already dear: It's a replica of the coat Captain Mary Read allegedly wore. Who the heck is Mary Read ? She was one of a very small club of women who were pirates in the 1600s and 1700s.

Now, I know pirates are bad - Somalia has really wrecked the whole Pirates of the Caribbean mythos. But who can resist the tale of a gal made to dress like a boy because her widowed mother couldn't divulge that her brother had died (which would have resulted in her grandmother cutting off the funds that was keeping the two alive). A gal who ran away to the high seas to make a decent wage, first on a man-of-war, and then a pirate ship run by the infamous Captain Calico Jack, designer of the Jolly Roger flag.

But even Read couldn't escape her woman's heart or a woman's fate: She fell in love at least twice - with her first husband dying. Her second love would have died if she had not intervened. Still dressed as a man, she went to duel the man who threatened her beloved  - and in the final moments of the sword fight, flashed her breast.

While he stood there confused, she cut his throat. Now there's a gal I'd like to meet at Starbucks.

Shortly afterwards, her ship was seized and she and Calico Jack's love, another female pirate Anne Bonny, were sentenced to hang with their comrades. However, both apparently being lusty girls, they "pleaded the belly" - both were allegedly pregnant and were spared from the gallows.

But as every woman knows - it can be treacherous being a woman - whether you're a pirate or not. And apparently Mary Read could not escape her biology - most accounts say she and her baby both died in prison shortly after childbirth.

Of course, I'm rooting for the few accounts that speculate that she actually escaped with her baby and lived the rest of her life with Bonny and her children.  

I always root for the happy ending.

But even so, I'm grateful to hear her tale - and all the stories of women who fought and overcome - and often lost - throughout the ages because it puts my problems, issues and concerns in perspective.

I remember reading "The Prehistory of Sex" and having to stop to cry. One chapter outlined how anthropologists, who uncovered the grave of a 12-year-old girl, conjectured that from the placement of the grave and other signs, that she had probably been raped - and then killed by her tribe - and then buried outside the tribal holy grounds.

I mourn her still - terrified, probably tortured and killed - and then left outside her circle of humanity. A little girl. And yet, these kinds of stories show us how far we still have to go - that horrific stories of women's endurance haven't ended. We still have 12-year-olds dying in childbirth.

And of course, Mary Read - a murderer and terror of the high seas - and Diane - suburban mother of three and captain of her own little entrepreneural dinghy - probably don't have that much in common.

She barely made it to 30. I'm 46. But I hope that we share a common spirit - a survivor's instinct, a deep devotion to those we love and a belief that women's strengths - regardless of the times -  are as vast as the ocean and no easier to dominate.

A Little Cliche Wisdom

On the second day of my 46th year, I'm finding that the longer I'm at home, relaxed and clear-headed, the more little quotes grab me and hold my attention. They're not brilliant. They're almost like bad pop songs - you can predict what the next line will be.

But even so, I've lived a frenetic life so long, I was never able to smell the roses (see what I mean?) or gee, think about the deeper meaning of pithy quotes. 

Instead, every day I was a desperate greyhound running - and was sure that if I wasn't in the race, Very Bad Things were going to happen.

What a crock.  

It's been eight months since I got laid off at Cohn & Wolfe. If I were a better person,  I would send them a thank-you note. Things are going so well, that I just shake my head every day and wonder why? why? why? did it take such an alleged catastrophe to reclaim my life? (When a door closes, a window opens.) 

After being a worker bee for more than two decades, I finally created my own venture - which would have never happened if I hadn't been forced over the cliff. (Desperation is the mother of all invention) I've got great clients and I'm making the same money from home that I made in that wretched, sterile office.

My children are no longer a buzz in the background - the unpleasant reality for three years as I struggled to make the leap from journalism into PR and digital media. Two of my kids were actually in Red Flag distress - but I was too involved in the race to notice. They were sinking like rocks, and I just kept making excuses and hoping they would somehow navigate out of it. They didn't. But now that I'm home, I'm able to help pull them out of the ditch. 

I can consider what our family eats. I know that seems like such a basic, but once I could slow down, I realized we were eating too much fast food, too much cereal and simply too much Bad Stuff. 

I had time to read "Skinny Bitch," which is so crass it made me cringe.  (and for those who know me, you know that's gotta be pretty bad) 

And again, one line - not a particularly amazing line - forced me to step up and start changing how we eat. After excruciating detail about the chemicals, filth, and abuse of industrial farming, the book stated: "Just because you can't see what's happening doesn't mean it doesn't exist." (A better version: Just because you can't see it, doesn't mean it's not there)

Beyond food, this got me thinking about all the ways we can't see what's happening in our lives because we're distracted by things that just don't matter that much. That meaningless work -  not the kind that fills your heart with purpose and mission - drains the soul. 

And at the same time, your fear and desperation keep you from seeing other problems - isolation from your mate and children; erosion of your friendships, deterioration of your health; destruction of your spirit. 

But that doesn't mean it's not there. 

So on that note, I'm trying to gather the wisdom of the ages, one sentence at a time. I'm trying to be courageous (Fortune favors the brave) compassionate and open to the truth. I'm trying to make sure I have the time to breathe (okay, I still can't bring myself to say one of the endless  "dance" quotes). 

And I'm trying to keep a humorous and joyful heart. After all, not all quotes require great contemplation. Take the sign my best friend sent me for my birthday:

Laundry Today Or Naked Tomorrow.

Now that's something we all don't want to see. 

Give me a break

Okay, this is rich.

That after all these years of greed and financial mismanagement and foreign war and Southern ruin, the Republicans have rediscovered the importance of fiscal responsibility.

How, they sputter, could we possibly spend almost a trillion dollars for an economic stimulus plan? How dare we be so irresponsible.

Give me a break. Really. This is the crew who lost 12 billion in Iraq - it just disappeared - and they are getting righteous?

I've been absent a few months - sorry for that - I know better, being the Digital Gal and all.

But I became part of the national economic drama when I got laid off in early January, experiencing sleepless nights, gnawing stomach pain and a cynical new belief that the middle class is being systematically screwed.

I was actually worried about what to say to the crowd as I took my two little ones to the bus stop. Should I be honest? Of course.

And I was met with laughter. Out of the six adults who gather in the dark of early morning, every single one - in this tony suburb of Atlanta - had either been laid off in the past or were reeling from being unemployed like me.

"We have ourselves a layoff virgin," one parent joked.

But as each one of us meanders back to the house to fill out online applications, fold laundry or sleep in order to be perky by 2:45 when the bus rumbles back, we know.

We know no one will be bailing us out. That while CEOs, with $1,200 wastebaskets, argue for their bonuses amid the bones of Wall Street, we could lose our homes. That we will lose our health benefits. That our children, like my 14-year-old, will worry about money.

I was laid off - by phone - on the day my son broke his arm. Slightly drowsy from pain medication, he looked at me and said, "Mom, do we have health benefits for this?"

"Yes, baby. If you're going to break your arm, you picked the right day."

He then nodded off to sleep.

I will never forget that.

Not that I'm bitter.

And even on one of my most happy days - Jan. 19th - my bitterness toward those who have ravaged my nation could not be eradicated.

While Obama was preparing for the Chief Justice John G. Roberts Jr. to mangle the presidential oath, Bush was doing his typical dumb-ass grin as he walked toward the AirHead One chopper.

At first, I found myself muttering, Get in the Helicopter. Get on the Goddamn Helicopter. But then, as he kept waving and Laura kept waving, my yelling reached a higher pitch: Bye. Byebyebyebyebye.

Through providence and luck, I found work. On President Obama's first day in office, a great company hired me as a digital consultant. I got to work from home, making great money for half the hours.

My family of five was pulled back from the brink.

But I don't have health benefits, I don't have disability insurance. And I'm scarred.

I don't believe in Corporate America any more. I don't believe in full time jobs, fiscal contracts, and putting any credence in bill collectors' rants. I don't buy trickle-down economics.

The middle class is vulnerable. It's those between $50,000 and a $150,000 who are being shoved out the door. And yet, the Republicans have the audacity to be sanctimonious? Not one voted for the recovery bill? Do any of these people live in our world?

I like Jon Stewart's plan: If you don't want to be part of the economic stimulus plan, why don't you opt your "fiscally responsible" Red districts out?

Now that would be rich.

The Decider

Today, I will vote.
There will be no ambiguity, no gray, no hesitation.
I will vote for Barack Obama.

• I will vote for him because the Dow continues to plummet to the mid-8,000. (By the time you read this, it might be even lower) and I blame eight years of disastrous Republican leadership.


• I will vote for him to fight the hate. To push against stupid white folk (wink!) who yelled out "Kill Him" in rallies whipped up by Sarah Palin, that "good ol' boy in a skirt," according to Ellen Goodman.


• I will vote for him because he said, firmly, that health care is a right. Not some half-ass answer like it's a "responsibility" as McCain said. What hell does that mean, really? And that $5,000 tax credit? Geez, does he even look at his bills for skin cancer?

• I will vote for Barack because I want a smart, elite American to lead us. Not some dumb ass who can drink a beer with me and watch a Southern city drown. Or thinks shooting wolves and skinning a moose are fun.


• I will vote for him because I want this horrible travesty of a war to end. I want every soldier who has served honorably to get the hell out of Iraq. And then, I want them to be well-cared for when they return stateside. I want them to get the medical rehab they might need as well as a college degree -- compliments of a grateful nation. And I want to stop spending $10 billion a month in someone else's country.


• I will vote for him because I still believe in his vision of change. That he, reared by a single mom, knows tough times -- and gets our basic issues: housing, health, education and environment.

Oh and our sinking economy. I don't believe we're going to get it from the "straight talk" maverick" nor his "real" stupid little sidekick.

We're going to need help - and hope. And this year, I'm the Decider.

So are you. Cut through the massaged messaging, the sideshows, the bickering -- and throw that lever.

Vote. And vote early if you can.

Stay tuned....

Opportunity Calling

Beep: Hello, Mr. Obama, I wanted to give you a quick update. We'd like to discuss further your interest in our open job position. We've checked out your references, and short of the Rev. Wright and Bill Ayers, everyone checked out great! Please give us a call at your earliest convenience.

Beep: Hello again, Mr. Obama. Thanks for returning our call, and yes, we are still interested in your candidacy. (Your writing test was great!) We are sorry that we didn't get back to you sooner - between the gas crisis, the Wall Street bailout, and um, that 800 point drop in the Dow today, we have been a little busy and the intern briefly misplaced your business card. But truly, the offer still stands.

Beep: Mr. Obama, yes, you would be right. If you were hired, your first 90 days might be different than we originally discussed. Of course, you would have to take some time to assess the damage of the global collapse of world trade, credit markets, mortgage companies and banking industries. But we do offer a free massage once a month and there's also a Friday snack cart.

Beep: Um. Mr. Obama. "Depression," being just a state of mind as defined by the previous leadership, is not currently covered under our benefits plan. But please don't let this deter you. Any impending Depression probably won't last that long, and hey, if you can't get what you need from our health care offerings, you can always order Paxil from Canada.

Beep: Mr. Obama, I have checked with my manager, and unfortunately, we are limited by current economic conditions to cap pay at $400,000. I realize that the job description did say, "Most Powerful Man In The World," but it was written by our advertising department and surely you realize that..well...they lie. The average pay for the CEOs of America's 500 biggest corporations is $15.2 million, but I'm sure you would do this for the love of the job. (muffled comments, laughter)

Beep: Barack, let's try to work through this. I know that you are disappointed that the ideas you talked about during those amazing interviews would indeed have to be put on hold - health care, education, sustainable energy research. Yep, all of that would pretty much have to be scrapped....But. Call me. Would it help if we let you telecommute twice a week? Bottom line: we would love to have you aboard.

Beep: Mr. McCain. Yes, the position is indeed still open. And your reference, Sarah Palin, certainly, ah, was charming.....So....please give us a call at your earliest convenience....

Standing Ovation

I had other plans for the featured mom this week, but I've scrapped that in order to honor my cousin, Courtney.

You might have noticed that I've been running updates about Courtney, and her darling baby Caytlin, down the right side of this blog. (And there's a new update today)


They were in a car accident this spring where the other vehicle hit them head-on after missing a curve. The elderly couple in the other car died.


Courtney's leg was crushed and Caytlin's neck was broken.


Police said, however, the only reason why Caytlin survived was because Courtney properly restrained her in her car seat. In the past months, Caytlin has surprised everyone - one of the youngest in the nation to survive such trauma.

As a matter of fact, because she is so little, the hospital had to bring in experts to redesign head braces and spinal braces to fit her. She was transferred to a Shriner's Children's Hospital and now, months later, she was finally able to go home with her mother.

However, after great improvement, Caytlin was readmitted last week to Toledo Children's Hospital with pneumonia -- and doctors will be checking to make sure her condition does not get worse. Hopefully, she'll be released this week.

I am 45 and I think I've seen a lot of life. But I cannot comprehend what these 20-somethings - Courtney and her amazing companion, Justin - have faced.

A car accident with two fatalities; the near-death of her child; a crushed leg. Courtney has to get better, but also has to encourage her toddler to survive at the same time. She needs physical therapy, her baby needs more. She can't get depressed, because her baby needs her to soldier on with a smile.

Justin has to keep it together on the home front - helping to organize an auction, sending out updates to family members. Oh, and he's got to find ways - just like the rest of us -- to cover heating bills and gas bills. Because in this "pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps" society, just because your family was almost killed doesn't mean the bills stop coming in the mailbox.

And, as with so many Americans, there are health insurance problems, severe transportation and hotel costs tied to the hospitalizations, loss of work issues and a host of coordination concerns that boggle the mind. Courtney's family - my aunt and uncle in particular - slept in the chair next to Caytlin's hospital bed for weeks. Then, they scraped together money to stay at the nearest hotel, not a cheap proposition.

And that it was only through the Shriners did Caytlin get the superior care she needed -- without the family having to fight the bureaucracy of the health system.

Okay, I would be lying if I didn't say I'm just a little bit angry that my cousin is struggling so hard through an event that was not her fault, not her making, not her design -- and yet, it is Wall Street that is getting the $700 billion bailout.

That we know every human being will get hurt or get sick at some point -- and yet, we can't manage to figure out how to make a safety net for the most vulnerable in our society. Especially when we've already approved an oh-my-God "socialized" health care system (a.k.a Medicare and Medicaid) for our elderly and poor. Especially when McCain and Cheney and the whole horrible lot in Congress already get the cushiest health care coverage in the world -- much better, I might point out, than our veterans get.

But we'll keep throwing billions a month down the black hole of Iraq and we'll "negotiate" reasonable executive compensation for the ol' bank boys.

Enough of that, though. I hope that each of you who read this will agree that this young mom deserves a standing ovation - and please send up your thoughts and prayers to her little girl, Caytlin.

In a world where greed rules too often, Courtney knows at a tender age what matters. As she writes:

"Sorry, I haven't had a chance to really update on Caytlin's progress, just have been super busy taking care of her and enjoying Justin, Caytlin, and I being a family again."

That's the Real Deal. That's heart and hope.

Courtney, we love you. Keep the faith.

Frank N. Stein for President!

Your Friday funny, compliments of dear friend, reporter Phil Kloer of The Atlanta Journal-Constitution. Also make sure to check out Monday's new feature, "Standing Ovation" - a weekly tribute to mothers who have made a trememdous difference despite personal challenges and often, heartache.