The Blaisdell Blog

Everyone has a favorite holiday.   Mine has always— always —been Thanksgiving.   As a child it meant the best food, unremitting talk, games and play.   As an adult it means ever so much more.             In my years of making Thanksgiving dinner I have come to believe that Thanksgiving is a feminine holiday.   I don’t mean that it isn’t enjoyed equally by both men and women.   I certainly don’t mean that the deeper meaning of Thanksgiving isn’t appreciated and revered equally by both men and women.   I just mean that the essence of the holiday is feminine.   It is a day centered on two things, the meal and the meaning.   These are feminine strengths.               Men are great cooks, but they aren’t likely to plan a meal for a week, get the baking done the day before, set the table with matching candlesticks and get up at 4:30 a.m. to get the meal started.   Men are much more the spontaneous, “slap” it on the grill type.   And I haven’t found a man yet who didn’t see an adva

I became aware of CLIMB Wyoming this summer when my husband and I were attending the FMCA convention.   The Family Motor Coach Association held its annual convention in Gillette , Wyoming , and CLIMB was the designated charity for the event.    After a presentation of this program and its results, Tom and I gave generously.   CLIMB is a private, nonprofit organization that trains and place s low-income single mothers in careers that successfully support their families.    They have been given one state grant, but use no federal money.   How are they doing?   Look at this:   Category                     Before CLIMB                       After CLIMB   Monthly income                   $1027                                      $2440 Employment                                46%                                        76% % on public healthcare             32%                                        10% % on food stamps                      49%           

4583 uninsured people could be given Cadillac insurance plans with the money conned from Medicare by one small clinic here in Texas .   Unfortunately, no one in a position to notice, care or act on this fact gives a damn.   Let me tell you what is currently making my teeth itch. This may take some time.   I am so livid with indignation that I frequently have to stop and sip some very good scotch to get my nouns and verbs in sync.                  The Lower Rio Grande Valley is not a metropolis.   This story shows a microcosm of what is happening all across this country.   In McAllen , Texas this story is vexatious.   Magnify it to include the entire nation and it changes to a deadly wrong that could very well poison this entire nation.    If you want to know why I don’t trust the federal government to manage 16% of the economy, just look at what they allow (nurture, encourage, enable…) to happen with Medicare.               On Thursday, November 21, my local paper, Th

What happens when your family gets together?   Some families make music.    Others dance, fish, play cards or softball; a few argue and we all eat.   In my family we seem to have only one skill—we talk.   Boy do we talk!   If there are eight people in the room there are ten conversations going on and you better be able to juggle three at once or people will consider you, “stand-offish.”               We learned this skill at our parents' knees.   Mom was a dyed-in-the-wool Republican, Dad was a Democrat and politics was served at every meal.   The only rule was that you had to keep one foot on the floor.   The lessons have stayed with me.               I love politics.   In its purest form it is a chance for humans to exercise their better angels.   True, we seldom see it, but the opportunity is there.   Good legislation requires the magnificent concept of compromise.   A good compromise makes good legislation because it forces all parties to use a hierarchy of mind and hea

My mother once was head accountant for Stapleton International Airport in Denver , Colorado .   Mom was a busy, cheerful woman who could travel farther and faster on high heels than any woman I ever knew, then or since.   Another thing you need to know about my mother is she was mad (mad!!!) about Lawrence Welk.    No, I can’t explain it.   Yet, on a weekly basis, we all had to sit down in front of the television while Mom watched the only program which didn’t put her immediately to sleep, the Lawrence Welk Show.   One day word reached mother that Mr. Welk had just flown in and was in the airport.   Mom wasted no time in heading to baggage claim.   She had a bead on him in a heartbeat and walked up to personally welcome him to Denver .   She then proceeded to ask him a question that had been preying on her mind.   “Why don’t you play as many polkas as you used to?”   Welk told Mom that he still played lots of polkas and then proceeded to grab her in his arms and started vampi

I am Wendy Davis’s worst nightmare.   On the surface of things, I should be one of her, “sure” votes.   While certainly no Democrat, I am a feminist of the first water.   Being a generation older than Ms. Davis, I was fighting her battles when she was in training pants.   Here is what she needs to know, but doesn’t. I marched for Civil Rights.   I fought for the Equal Rights Amendment.   I was the first teacher in my district to teach the full term of a pregnancy and did so under considerable duress; the first to seek a principal’s certification; the first to act as picket captain during a teachers’ strike.   I have beaten my head against one glass ceiling after another for my whole life. I did NOT do all of this so this self-serving, opportunistic woman could launch a run for office by enabling the Kermit Gosnell’s of this world and killing viable babies in the womb! While Ms. Davis and her minions would love to paint me as some, “Pro-Life” nut (as opposed to a Pro-abortion

There is a photograph on the wall of my sister’s home that is both precious and haunting to me.   It is a restored, blown up and framed photo of my father on his way to the South Pacific during World War II.   It was taken by an Army photographer from a small tender craft as my Dad’s ship, the S.S. Monterey, left harbor.   In a happy accident, the picture was taken with a close up of Pfc. Frank G. Yatckoske front and center.   He is in the midst of a host of soldiers leaning over the rail, all smiling and mugging for the camera.   My father is leaning out from the rest, his arms braced on the rail of the ship, his smile—a straight, wide grin filled with mischief—is set in a young, lean, handsome face.   Every man on that ship seems filled with enthusiasm, bonhomie, even a sense of adventure. Those poor young men didn’t have a clue.               I don’t want to contemplate what happened to most of those men.   I know that “I” Company of the 63 rd Infantry, 6 th Division wen

In 1985 and again in 1986 Evelyn Adams won the New Jersey lottery.   Her total winnings were $5.4 million.   Evelyn (who admits to having a gambling problem) blew through both wins and now lives in a trailer.    She sounds like a soul mate for William Post who won $16.2 million in the Pennsylvania lottery in 1988 and within one year had lost it all and was $1 million in debt.   He now lives on social security and food stamps.             Ken Proxmire of Michigan won $1 million and five years later was in bankruptcy.   Janite Lee ( Missouri ) won $18 million so it took her eight years to end up in the same boat.   William Hurt and Charles Riddle ($3 million and $1 million, respectively) both ended up not only broke, but selling cocaine.   At least Post and Proxmire tried investing in family businesses; Hurt and Riddle decided that starting a curb side addiction kiosk was their enterprise of choice.               Suzanne Mullins won $4.2 million in 1993 and is now deeply in