I couldn't sleep last night.

In 1942, as part of the war effort, John Steinbeck wrote a book called Bombs Away: The Story Of A Bomber Team, reprinted in 1990 and picked up off the remainder table in a weak moment because for some unknown reason I had gone on a mild Steinbeck binge. And because it was cheap.

(And I note, in passing, that Steinbeck was part of a war effort, that there was a war effort embraced by artists and artistans and even most partisans; and that there is not now, has not been for decades.)

The premise of Bombs Away, in any event, was that American men entering the military would find that their natural-born civilian skill-sets translated nicely into the component parts of a bomber team; and that not everybody should want only to be a pilot, that there was honor in each job on the plane.

I was struck, reading the book so many years after the war, that much had changed. That I had none of those skills, for they were no longer a part of the life of the typical American suburban kid. What this has to do with our lives today, I shall try to sort out below the fold.

What is the relevance to the current political climate of public nudity in an organized, public event?  It seems like a bit of a stretch, but now, after a month's reflection and discussion, I think there is a clear connection.  This is another one of my seemingly pointless, rambling diatribes.  Hear me out, though.  I promise that the dry, didactic narrative will not be bereft of titillation.  If you like sex, this might even be a good read.  Still, I'll try to make a point.

the revolution will be stoked by a grey-bearded man who emerged from six years of prison with the clear understanding that power is seeing into action what has been promised with mere words...

Do you remember when Howard Dean won the Chair of the Democratic National Committee?  It was a hell of a fight between the old, beltway power brokers and the State Chairs who wanted to be taken seriously by the party.  Between those who wanted to protect their sinecure and those who wanted to come to the game for the first time.

Do you remember the first unveiling of the 50 State Strategy?  "Nose pickers" in Mississippi were dismissed in humiliating fashion on national TV.  Entire blocks of the country were declared irrelevant, and Rahm Emmanual promised no help from the DCCC, in the heroic plan to reclaim Democratic dominance by challenging the RNC in every locale.

Interesting things happened when Dr. Dean won the Chair.  Voting registration increased many fold.  DNC offices were opened in almost every district in the nation.  Tapping the netroots raised more money for Democratic candidates than at anytime in history.  (And, Charlie Schumer strode to the microphone and claimed credit for the '06 Congressional victories...Old Ladies never forget...)

Nationalism is not to be confused with patriotism. Both words are normally used in so vague a way that any definition is liable to be challenged, but one must draw a distinction between them, since two different and even opposing ideas are involved. By "patriotism" I mean devotion to a particular place and a particular way of life, which one believes to be the best in the world but has no wish to force on other people. Patriotism is of its nature defensive, both militarily and culturally. Nationalism, on the other hand, is inseparable from the desire for power.

The abiding purpose of every nationalist is to secure more power and more prestige, not for himself but for the nation or other unit in which he has chosen to sink his own individuality.

I began my blog about four months ago, because I love politics and I think it's a great way to keep one's ideas focused.  Today, I am proud to say I completed my 300th post and reached more than 5,000 hits in the last four months.  So, for those few of you who have stopped by The Left Anchor to see what Big Blue has to say, I sincerely thank you.  I know it's not much, but it's nice to know that each of us -- through this wonderful medium of the interent, the most democratic form of communication in history -- can reach out to one another from great distances and bridge the divides of race, age, or class.  Many thanks to those of you who have been generous enough to follow along with me on this experiment.

But I'm not going to devote an entire blog post to something that likely matters only to me, so here's the real thrust of my argument today:

The following is an essay that began as a letter. As you may or may not know I'm in the final stage of a political science project. Part of it requires the seeking of funds for a feature documentary. I live here in Santa Barbara, California, and you'd think it'd be pretty easy to find progressive Americans willing to put a little heat behind a big idea. So far no luck, but last weekend I went to a lecture by the author Elaine Pagels, who is working on a book about the book of Revelations, and she discussed that. In the audience I noticed a woman whom I've seen at most of the interesting lectures in town, and a few of the pro-peace rallies of the last few years, and who I once overheard discussing philanthropy at a local eatery. So after the lecture I approached her and asked if I could send her some information about the project.

I live in the part of Virginia where the local school boards responded to Brown vs. The Board of Education by shutting down all of the public school.  They refused to integrate, and that totally charming invention, the "Christian Academy" was born.

Thousands of African Americans could not attend school since their schools, too, were closed.  This went on for several years, leaving a generation of African Americans who were deprived of basic reading and arithmetic skills at a critical period in their development, educationally handicapped for all time.

They still carry a barely suppressed rage against an America which deprived them of a future.

Please Note:  This is NOT a candidate diary.  It is a discussion of elements of the current political process that I believe are not serving any one very well.  Including our elected representatives, at all levels.

There are two levels of citizens.  (Well, three, really - those who don't know, and don't care have their place in the scheme of things, but are not the focus of this diary.)

The first encompases that tiny fraction of the electorate that is passionate about something.  Be it the environment, the war, the debt, the poor, globalization, you name it.  They know a great deal about their issue, and on the way to expertise, they pick of a lot of knowledge about the inter-relatedness of things.  They learn the process for moving legislation.  They follow the votes.  They know who is on their side, and who is opposed to their stand on an issue, and why.  They are sophisticated voters who have some basis for their decisions in each election.  They select candidates whom they feel may represent their interests, well.

I was born at a time when lynchings were common.  When I was a child we drove to my mother's home in New Orleans, and at a stop at a gas station in Mississippi, my Cocker Spaniel jumped out of the car and ran into a little shanty of a cafe and bar.    I blythly ran after her, and straight through the bar.  Being a properly raised young lady, I grabbed the dog, looked at the 6 or 7 men standing, stunned by my appearance, and said, "I'm so sorry to disturb you, but my dog got away."  No word was spoken until I left through the front door, dog in tow.  Then I heard a deep voice say, "Don' ya worry, none.  She ain't from 'round here.  Won't be no trouble."

I stopped in my tracks, and started to go back to ask what I had done that so upset them.

This is a response to "Oh......Grow Up!"  

Why should I suppress my emotions?

So, grow up. Remind yourself that politics marriage is a business, candidates potential mates do what is necessary to get (s)elected, and finding one who reflects your dreams is cause for a moment of quiet, pleased acknowledgment. Not fandom.

I confess, I have never understood fandom.  I remember hordes of young women so involved in their self-referential esctasy that they drown out John, Paul, George and Ringo.  It took me several years to appreciate the music, mostly because I couldn't hear it, and figured that it couldn't have much value if the fans didn't want to listen.  

I don't understand mobs of people forming up to catch a glimps of some film star, or sports figure.  I don't understand what each of these people are seeking.  What do they get out of imagining that the target of their admiration also caught a glimps of them?  

Where do you draw the line between Idealism and Realism?

How do you determine the balance between the experience and skills needed to govern, and the inevitable taint of principle acquired from immersion in the process of compromise and deal making necessary to herd a fractious population toward stability?  

How did we get to this point?

In order to understand the dynamic driving our current political process, I think we must examine the two underlying philosophical elements upon which all governments are based.  They have determined how we would will be governed since the founding, and their logical extension, and abuse, have led us to the morass in which we find ourselves today.

I never hear this John Lennon song without tears.  It captures all that is good in the human spirit, in simple poetry.

Hearing CNN play "Imagine" just before New Years in Times Square, got me to dwelling on the momentous things that lay ahead.

We often become buried in the minutia of policy, the sausage of government, and the glow of candidate personalities, and I wonder if we fail to Imagine.

For those of you who have followed the sage of my Father-in-Law during the past year, I am comforted to announce that he passed away, very peacefully, on December 17th.  We were saddened by the loss of this brilliant and gifted gentleman, and relieved that his struggle was over.  We have also spent the past 2 weeks revelling in the calm that has decended on our lives.

We were typical college professors.  Middle class economically, and active in the world of ideas.  That all came to a crashing halt when FIL came to live with us last February, and I would be dishonest if I didn't acknowledge that we are delighted to have our lives back.

I have diaried the extraordinary journey we have been on during this past year here and early in the saga, last Spring.  I hoped to share with you the trials and treasures of caring for an Alzehimer's/dementia patient during his last battle, and let you know you are not alone in either the grief, anger, impatience or frustrations you will experience.

My journey is almost over, and it's time to remember the people who have eased this nightmare, a bit.

The real question should be why socialized medicine. The answer is really quite simple because capitalism and compassion do not go together. For at least 2 decades, our country has been governed politically by a mindset that making profits, increasing personal wealth, shameless consumerism, and endless financial growth were the "Holy Grail" of civilization, and that from these all good things flowed.  Cutting taxes, cutting operating costs, lowering prices, increasing credit availability were all strict tenants of policies to further its progress.  I believe that the root cause of the medical availability issue runs much deeper.  As a society, we have embraced a culture where these goals have superseded all others.  The casualties have been any element of business or government that does not further these ends, such as health care benefits and funded pensions.