Tuesday, March 27, 2007

Goin' to the Chapel and We're Gonna Get... Awww.. Screw It!

Well, well. What do you know about that? The braintrusts over at Newsweek have decided to run a twenty-year retrospective on the ruckus-stirring cover piece about women and marriage they called "The Marriage Crunch" in which, using data gleaned from a demographic study called "Marriage Patterns in the United States,"* the news magazine had the incredible bad taste to quip that a woman who hadn't married by the age of 40 was "more likely to be killed by terrorists" than ever utter "I do." Granted, in these post-9/11 days, the writers would certainly have used a different (if equally as demeaning and derogatory) comparison. But I remember thinking at the time whether people who'd lost loved ones to terrorist attacks like pub bombings in London,the Operation Entebbe incident, and the hijacking of the Achille Lauro (which had occurred mere months before the article was written) were as amused as the writers seemed to be by that mean-spirited (not to mention utterly false -- see Susan Faludi and Discover magazine) little taunt. Furthermore, the article went on to contend that women with college degrees and good jobs with good pay were less likely to get married than women who had only completed high school and were working for minimum wage. The message was clear -- do too well, get too smart, be too independent and ambitious, and you can expect a life of lonely solitude and desperation.

Had Newsweek only just met us in 1986? Our mothers were the women who burned their bras, took to the courts to declare our rights to our own wombs, overturned decades of subjugating legislation, made it possible for a married woman to establish her own credit, open her own bank account, and even charge her own husband with spousal rape (laws that had never existed before the late 2oth century, thank you very much). The study on which Newsweek based the article was also reported on the television news and in People magazine with particular relish. People, as I recall, featured a photograph of the gorgeous, single 40-something Donna Mills on its cover as an example of what it called "The New Look of Old Maids" (charming, no?). But People is People, and Newsweek is Newsweek, and when I read something as lowbrow and badly researched and conceived as "The Marriage Crunch" was, I take exception. What really irked me at the time was how Newsweek could so audaciously proclaim to gaze into their statistical crystal ball, and based on numbers gathered from previous generations, blythely assume that women who had not yet married would, in fact, never marry. The plain fact of the matter was that the study was based on economic statistics that were never intended for such use, and that failed to take into account an entirely new generation of women who had been raised to want, need and look for different things in life. Surely, any idiot could see that (well, almost any idiot, apparently).

Thanks to those stalwart, wicked, courageous mothers of ours, by God, marriage, gender roles and family life in America were all undergoing an enormous shift. People were choosing to live together and have children without being married, to be open about their homosexuality**, to marry later, delay motherhood, and have longer, more fulfilling careers outside the home. Oh, well, who cares whether those fat, ugly, over-40-year-old women were nonplussed at Newsweek's presumptuous, poorly conceived, mean-spirited little journalistic mishap? They were probably all just hysterical, sexless, spinster females, gagging for a good, hearty poke anyway, weren't they.

Or, were they?

Newsweek decided that a nifty way to celebrate the twenty-year anniversary was to do a collection of articles addressing the originals issues so hotly contended back in 1986. In "Marriage By Numbers: Rethinking Marriage After 40", they went back and re-interviewed 11 of the 14 women from "The Marriage Crunch" to see where they were today. Know what they discovered? That, miraculously, of the eleven, eight had actually managed to trap a man and get knocked up.*** Three stayed single, they say (but who can really trust those lying spinster hags?) by choice. Know what else they've discovered? Of the eight women who married, none -- not one -- has divorced. Then, the magazine has the nerve to make the following observation: "One striking aspect of this Where Are They Now exercise: none of these women divorced. Perhaps it's no coincidence." Yes, perhaps it's not. Perhaps, just perhaps, mind you, that staving off marriage until you're a whole person with a highly developed sense of self and a separate and well-established identity is conducive to forming a relationship bond that might actually last for at least an hour and twenty minutes after getting back from the honeymoon.

For the record, the Newsweek article was written mostly by women contributors, and the "killed by terrorist" line was initally written as a quippy little joke in an internal memo by one of the writers, and was inserted into the final piece, intended as levity, by one of the female editors. Both have since expressed regret at the furor (and fury) that the line caused, and equally disdain its inclusion in American pop culture to the extent it has been. To Newsweek's credit (yes, I'm actually going to cut them some slack), they have pretty much owned up to the fallacies they heaped on an entire generation of women (as if we didn't have enough of a burden to carry, what with having it all, and being ball-busting feminists, goddamnit!). Every link I've included in this article came directly or indirectly through the Newsweek restrospective on The Marriage Crunch. While the original article was considered a "cautionary tale of delaying matrimony" for American women, the retrospective refers to that article as a cautionary tale of what happens when a statistical study is taken at face value without further investigating the numbers (as was done a month or two later, when some bright genius used U.S. Census numbers and ran a comparison against the original study statistics, proving them lacking).

It's an interesting turn about -- one that Newsweek kind of downplays in all of the articles with a sort of "Aw, shucks, it was all in good fun" demeanor that grates. Maybe it was all in good fun. But the fact is that women in this country over 40 have faced a hard enough time, trying to fight the notion that we're too old to do anybody any good. Such statistical stigmatizing only fuels the sexism and agism that we are already up against. Additionally, the fact that Newsweek failed to seek sources indicating an American man's statistical likelihood of marriage based on his age, salary and job title was a huge journalistic blunder -- one that violates the very premise of objective, balanced reporting (and this was back in '86, before objective, balanced reporting had gone the way of the dodo bird and the sabertoothed tiger).

So, happy 20th annivesary, "Marriage Crunch." May the road rise up to meet you... then smack you upside the head for all the grief you've caused us, lo, these past two decades.

~C~


* It should be noted that the original study paper, written by David E. Bloom and Neil G. Bennett, relied on economic data rather than census data for its demographics, as the original intent of the study was to determine the impact that a woman's salary/job status had on the timing of a woman's first marriage. The results were never intended by Bloom and Bennett to state with any reliability a woman's chances of marrying based on her age.
**It's important to remember that there are many lesbians well into middle age today who would gladly be married to the loves of their lives had our petty, small-minded legislatures not prevented them doing so at every possible turn.
*** In a shocking turn of events, none of the women had, at the time of this writing, actually been killed by a terrorist.

Thursday, March 22, 2007

Peace Be With You. And Also With Them.

As someone who was raised Anglican Episcopalian, watching as the Church struggles to avoid a new "reformation" or schism over the issue of homosexuality within its ranks is deeply painful. Though my belief in religion has waivered in the past few years, my belief in God has not, and my love and nostalgia for the Church in which I was reared continues to this day. I went to an Episcopalian Church, attended an Episcopalian parochial school through 9th grade, and was baptized and confirmed in the High Church. Seeing my beloved childhood spiritual home under attack from outside forces (the world wide Anglican church) and inside (conservative homophobes) is discouraging and infuriating.

The church where I was reared as a child, though it had its faults, was always one of compassionate acceptance and tolerance. Even among the oldest, most conservative members, in my youth, I never heard a negative word openly spoken about homosexuality. However people felt in deep in their hearts, they knew better than to speak it aloud and give it credence in the light of day. Of course, this was the Anglican Church in Los Angeles, and if a church in Los Angeles becomes gay-hostile, it can kiss goodbye a huge chunk of its congregation, both homosexuals and sympathetic straights alike. And with the members go their tythes. That can hit a church right where it lives -- in its coffers.

That hasn't stopped certain L.A.-based Presbyterian churches (which shall remain nameless for the moment), taking their cues from the national synod's formally adopted policies, from attempting to eliminate homosexuals from its congretation by subtly changing policy to purge them from positions as elders and laypeople in positions of power. I'm happy to say both the Episcopalian church and the Presbyterian church to which I have belonged as an adult have adamantly resisted this small-minded mini-Inquisition.

I loved being in Church. I still love being inside a Church, especially my churches, one Episcopalian and one Presbyterian. There's a comfort and safety I feel in church that I don't feel anywhere else. I can say anything to God, and He'll listen and love me anyway. I've had very little in the way of unconditional love in my life, except from God. I would never presume to believe that anyone who came humbly to any of His houses and confided in Him would get any less than I. I'm just not that special.

I feel for the conservative Christians who've been so brainwashed by television pastors and the White House that they just can't bring themselves to love without judgement, to tolerate that which they do not -- cannot -- understand. Tolerant acceptance does not mean that you must adopt an experience as your own. I don't understand the experience being over six feet tall, but that doesn't mean I can't accept people over six feet tall, and allow them to be as tall as they were destined to be without judging or condemning them. I would have thought that the Jesus Christ that all those Christians have such a "close, personal relationship" with might have gotten that point across. But as is true of most people in relationships with others, most Christians only think they understand Christ. The sad truth is, they've done with Christ what they've most likely done with their spouses, parents and children -- applied a thin veneer of their own design to the surface of the other person to build them into someone they can understand and accept. Unfortunately, as with any veneer or neat, fancy finish, it obscures the real thing. Harsh of me, perhaps. Still, it is what I see unenlightened individuals do to each other (and to God) every day. I always come back to Anne Lamott's quote from a priest friend of hers: "You can be sure you've created God in your image when God hates all the same people you do."

The Anglican Episcopalian and American Presbyterian churches are on the verge of serious schism over the issue of homosexuality. When it comes to the "gay issue," I like to return to the words of Jesus Christ on the subject. Or, rather, I would like to return to the words of Jesus Christ on the subject, if Christ had actually discussed it -- which he didn't. Doesn't that tell those holier-than-just-about-anyone-else Christians that maybe their off-base here?

I feel bad and sad for them. I hurt for them. How exhausting it must be to carry such fear and hatred around. I should know. They way they feel about gays, I feel about our current government. So I can safely say that they are lost in the hearts, and no amount of outside prayer and well-wishing can save them from themselves. God knows I won't try. I'm in no position to judge them. But they have built themselves a labyrinth* that they'll have to find their own way out of, step by step and row by row. And since they've chosen to separate themselves so wholly from the love of their God, they shouldn't rely on Him to pull them through this one. Sometimes even an unconditionally loving Father has to let you flail on your own, so you'll learn what you need to learn to live well.

So I can only leave them with what I know from childhood -- the benediction that my beloved reverend, Dr. Alexander Campbell, said at the end of every service over which he presided, whether it was weekdays in chapel or Sundays in church:

"May the Lord bless you and keep you;
May the Lord cause His face to shine upon you and be gracious unto you;
May the Lord lift up His countenance upon you and grant you His peace."

~C~

* The labyrinth is considered by many Anglicans to be a sacred symbol. Having its origins (for Anglicans at least) in the ancient practices of the Gaelics and the Druids, "walking the labyrinth" is considered a means of meditation and relfection where a person can find his spiritual center and reconnect with the true nature of God. It is believed that the practice of growing hedge mazes at English castles, like the famous one at at Hampton Court, sprang from the desire for a place of peaceful contemplation.

Monday, March 19, 2007

When Comedy Was Prozac

My sister has been organizing my dad's house while she's been caring for him. (Unlike me, she took a leave of absence from work when she came to stay with him, and my sister, not working is NOT a pretty. Bad things can and do happen.) She decided to go through some of her own keepsakes and purge the lot from about ten boxes down to two, keeping only the letters, photos and relics she deemed practical and indispensible. Along the way, she found a couple of gems from the past.

One of them is a letter I wrote to her when she was away at college, and I was preparing to leave for the Midwest to go to school there. Throughout the summer of '82, I had passed the time waiting to leave by taking summer courses at the (then!) impossibly cheap junior colleges LA had to offer, and working a succession of excrutiatingly dull office temp jobs that required things like "front office appearance" and "good phone personality" (have I got phone personality? Honeyyy, hush!). One of them was at the Emerson Radio corporate offices in Sun Valley.

I have transcribed the content below, so I don't get sued for any eyestrain injuries, and only include the scan to demonstrate the lengths to which I was willing to go to get a laugh back then. The letterhead is actually a cut-and-paste job in order to keep it from actually resembling someone's letterhead (lest it fall into the wrong hands, I guess). I used two typewriters (an IBM Selectric II for the company street address, and a Smith Corona portable for the letter body). Then I took the time (at my desk, between answering phone calls with my "good phone personality", no doubt) to actually compose the letter.

I presume, though I have no recollection of the actually gig, that it was like all the other boring jobs I had (at the computer component sales werehouse, the vitamin distribution factory, a day and a half at Rocketdyne before I called the temp agency and said, "If you send me on another government gig, I'll cut your heart out" -- or words to that effect). Mundane, repetitive, monotonous, pointless -- all designed to drive me loopy. Often, I expressed my loopiness in the form of bogus business letter to my friends and family. This is probably the only remaining example, as I'm sure everyone else tossed their long ago. But I do remember there were more than a few of these, and I went to great lengths to make them look authentic. Clearly, while my friends and family chuckled away at these little missives, they failed to see them for what they were -- a veiled cry for help.

Dear Ms. Sowards

We are sorry to inform you that we have accidentally turned your beloved older sister into a stereo component. We understand the grief you must be experiencing. There are no words which can bring comfort after a tragedy such as this. However, we at Emerson wish to offer you the consolation of knowing that your sister is a fully equipped Emerson 6000 PA, with Cue/Review Stereo Deck -- Auto/Manual Program Selector, AM/FM Stereo Receiver with LED Audio Output Display, match 20" Full Range Speaker System, and Deluxe Automatic Record Changer plus Matching Base.

Thank you for doing business with Emerson. If you have any questions regarding other stereo systems available, please do not hesitate to contact me.

Sincerely,

Arnold P. Kravatz
Director of Personnel Accidentally Turned Into Stereo Components

AKP/cas

The good news is that, now we live in the new millennium, where I have a job that, while somewhat worn out, does not drive me to utter madness, and also, where the presence of good psychotropic medications have become readily available by prescription.

Thanks for letting me share.

~C~

Thursday, March 15, 2007

A Family Thang

The day started off nicely today when I received the long-anticipated CD from the Austin, Tx band Pompeii in the mail. I was doubly-pleasantly surprised when I put the CD in and hit "play." Hey, you know what. They're good. No, really. They're really, really good.

I see that furrow in your lovely brows, my little puzzled readers. You're asking yourselves, "Why would she actually spend money on a CD when she wasn't even sure she liked the band?" Well, it's like this. It's a family thing. The cellist in the band (an alt rock band with a cellist -- top that, Green Day!) is my first cousin, Caitlin Bailey. Caitlin was raised in Austin and because I've never been particularly close to her father (my uncle, Chris), we've never met. No family feud or anything... it's just one of those "travelled in different circles, hung out with different people" kind of things. Here's a photo of Caitlin, taken with my other uncle's (Marck's) daughter, Piper, (photo at left -- I trust I don't need to tell you which one plays in a rock band). Marck is the uncle I'm close to, because we're closer in age (they're my mother's half-brothers). (In the photo at right, I'm on the far left, flashing a goofy peace sign, and Chris is laying on the floor behind his father -- my grandfather -- looking bored out of his ever-loving mind. The aforementioned Marck, now the father of two darling girls who do positively horrid things to him in the name of beauty, is the squirt in the front.)

But back to Pompeii. An amazing band. But don't take my word for it.

From depravedfangirls.org: "as I watched Pompeii I realized that for thefirst time, I was seeing a band who was using that ubiquitous (and utterlytiresome, usually) Radiohead influence in the right way -- chiming, lovelyguitars and sweet, sad boy vocals and modestly epic and darkly uplifitinglyrics, over the driving clatter of emo drums and Peter Hook-ish melodicbass lines -- all hoisted up by the deep, raspy scraping of Caitlin's cello.I'm hesitant to know what to call Pompeii's music -- because it's not indiepop, or indie rock, or straight up goth or emo. It's all these things, andin the end, I think that's why Pompeii's music is so affecting."

I have absolutely no idea what any of this means, because took French in high school, and not "music reviewerese." But I'm sure they like it bunches over at depravedgirls.org. So, head over to the band's My Space, where they have several cuts from their debut album, Assembly. You, too, will be won over by their "emo drums and Peter Hook-ish melodicbass lines" (who wouldn't, after all?).

Pompeii. Not just a band, but family, goddamit!

~C~

Tuesday, March 13, 2007

Another Too-Soon Good-bye


Richard Jeni
Comic
B. 10-30-1957
D. 03-10-2007
He dated a close friend of mine for a few months, and I was fortunate enough to meet him three or four times. He was funny, smart and nice, kind of nerdy and insecure, but in that charming "comedian-offstage-in-real-life" kind of way. I didn't know him at all as a person, but I thought he was riotously funny as a comic.
He was also the author of one of my favorite lines in comedy ever:
"My mother never understood the irony of calling me a son of a bitch."
To set the record straight about his death, his family has issued a very touching statement on his homepage confirming that Jeni took his own life on Saturday night.
He had apparently been in treatment for severe clinical depression, coupled with periodic episodes of psychotic paranoia. He was under the care of professionals, he was still working, he had a girlfriend and a life, and was, according to his reps and family, enjoying a particularly lucrative period in his life. The fact that this appears to be the momentary, transient result of an illness for which he was being treated makes this all the more tragic and sad.
I hope that wherever he is, he's the headliner in a packed house with a two drink minimum.
Messages of condolence can be left at his website,
RichardJeni.com
at the memorial guestbook.
Other sweet sayings about Richard Jeni:
An illustrated audio clip of one of his best bits,
A really funny interview about Jeni's relationship with cars
from last December, before a gig at an auto show.
'Night, Rich. Nice to have met you.
~C~