IDYLLOPUS PRESS IS A VALIANT LITTLE ROWBOAT

More on Ward Churchill. Brief bio that calls to mind (for me) Lucas’ “American Grafitti”, a film that I am reminded of about once every two years at most so it’s not like my brain’s short list of synonyms equates all things 50s and 60s with Ron Howard.

H.o.p. doing his online reading program becomes mostly phys ed. He props elbows on desk, chin in left hand, and looks to levitate, one foot then two feet leaving the ground as they travel up the chair on which I’m seated behind him. A swivel chair. Knees dangle in the air, one foot on the seat pushing me back and forth and around, digging sharp toenails into the tops of my bare feet (me having regressed to a seated fetal position), the other foot kicking up toward my face. This lasts only as long as it takes to click an answer on the mouse, about two to three seconds, then he plants feet on the ground and turns, opens mouth wide and happily roars, jamming his tonsils in my face. Then turns back to the computer, elbows on desk, chin in left hand, feet again climbing the chair, the air, air dancing like Fred Astaire, toenails digging into my flesh, as he clicks the next answer then again down, turns and roars his tonsils in my face. In the meanwhile, a Flaming Lips song repeats itself endlessly, courtesy of H.o.p.

In the things I hate to love category is Bradblog’s revelation that CNN news was using photos of the same alleged nuclear facility in two different stories, one identified as Iran’s purported nuclear program and the other (several days previous) identified as North Korea’s purported nuclear program. Then there was unearthed yet another news outlet using the same photograph in a story on North Korean nukes when the photo is (Bradblog says) of the purported Iranian facility, this last mentioned news story being a March 2004 story at Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty. And the photo was under the filename of iraq-nuclear.jpg.

The kind of news I hate and love at the same time. Should be pinned on to the bulletin board with the twin masks of drama, Comedy and Tragedy.

Wikipedia notes that Radio Free Europe, the broadcasting arm of the National Committee for a Free Europe, founded in 1949, received its funds from the U.S. Congress via the CIA until 1971, the CIA its guide and generating daily input. The CIA’s funding wasn’t publicly revealed until 1971, at which point the organization was rechartered in Delaware as a non-profit making corporation, oversight moved to the International Broadcasting Bureau, and the budget moved to open appropriations. In 1975, RFE merged with the similar Radio Liberty (Congress-funded, founded in 1951). The mission of the International Broadcasting Bureau was transferred to the Broadcasting Board of Governors in 1994.

Free. Radio Free Europe. Powerful advertising words, that particular string. At least back in 1969 when I was 12 and a rather awkward child with frizzy hair beaten down to the sides of my head so to form flaring wings which gave me the nick of “Dogears” and being the malcontent misfit that I was I had no problem with marking myself further as a malcontent misfit by deciding at some point during that year to not pipe in with the daily Pledge of Allegiance. I trusted authority not one wit, perhaps because authority had never favored me, and for that I suppose I ought to be grateful. However, the words Radio + Free + Europe sang in my ears as they were equipped to do and conjured associated words such as brave, free, subversive, free, non-authoritarian, free. Now, any envelope in my mailbox that has “free” on it, political or commercial (difference?) goes in the trash. But back then “free” was a powerful word and the little arm hairs tingled positive not negative. Radio + Free + Europe was to me the power of words, of ideas, of free speech, profoundly elevated through the notion of stealth, hidden treasures the most precious of all, and what was more stealthy than the ultimate invisible ink of radio. All a matter of unconscious associations. No critical judgment. No questioning. Because the equation was just that right.

I’m still alarmed by that, as an adult. I go to look at the Radio Free Europe website, which I have never before visited, and I remember vividly and think about kids today being raised on similar equations, naive, the power of the word “freedom” doing the majority of the work in the construction of the subliminal aesthetic backdrop that shapes opinion.

On my way back to Digby, thinking to comment on a Fallwell blurb highlighted today, I was distracted by a news bite on 82-year-old Sarah Nome, whom Kaiser Permanente’s San Rafael Medical Center is suing. In 2002 “she broke both legs” (well, I doubt she took a mallet to them) and after several operations landed in a nursing home, unable to care for herself any longer. Then a year ago she was admitted to the hospital for a mental health review. She was deemed mentally healthy. She has no medical problem other than lack of mobility (the broken legs, result of an age thing here I’d imagine). The hospital attempted to show her the door but as she had nowhere to go (she is suing the nursing home where she was living) she insisted on staying put. And for some reason the hospital simply didn’t roll her bed to the door and drop her on the street. Imagine! Thus, though she has no medical problem, has not been taking medication, is merely occupying a bed, her medical bills have now topped $1 million, for which reason she’s being sued.

Nome has neither newspaper nor television privileges. I assume she is being fed and that her daughter isn’t daily coming around before work and dropping off a lunch pail of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and Hostess cupcakes. Assuming the bulk of the million dollars she’s racked up in charges comes of the year she’s been idling in the hospital bed, reading and looking out the window, then what we have here is a pretty costly bed. Yeah, it’s got buttons that raise and lower the head and feet, and I trust she has bedpan privileges and that the linens are periodically changed. Still, it’s quite an expensive bed.

OK, she’s in Marin County. I do a quick web search for a studio apartment in Marin County (she wouldn’t need anything bigger) and come up with a nice little modern studio with a new kitchen at Valancia Street and Belle Avenue. Nice and quiet earth-toned color scheme, wood floors!, sunny yellow walls. $685 a week. That’s kind of pricey in my book but what do I know about Marin County. That’s $35,620 a year for a dwelling. Ouch, too much. Search again. Here’s a studio apartment at Mill Valley for $900 a month, gas, electric and water included. OK deal. $10,800 a year. Much better than the Valancia Street rip-off and the kitchen walls are at least a kind of happy mustard color that could be sunny yellow maybe with more light or a new paint job. Now, let’s say you have round-the-clock caregivers at $15 an hour, that would be about $131,400 a year.

Let’s allot Ms. Nome, hmmm, a generous $600 month allowance for food and spending money. Toiletry articles, freecycled mysteries and an occasional new pair of socks and lap blanket are about all she needs any more if her legs are now just for show. I don’t think it’s asking too much of anyone to figure out how to eat on at most $5 a day so that leaves plenty for cable. At 82 (and immobile), how many calories can you use?

The total for round-the-clock care and room and board and some extra cash comes to $149,400 a year. The median income for a household in Marin County is $71,306 a year. The median US income for a female with no male present is $29,307, while for a person over 65 (no sex given) it is $23,787 a year. Let’s knock out the round-the-clock care at $15 an hour and give her drop-in care at California’s $6.75 minimum wage, 40 hours a week for $14,040. The caregiver would not be able to afford Ms. Nome’s now very pricey $900 a month apartment but we’ve reduced Ms. Nome’s yearly expenses to $32.040 a year.

If Ms. Nome was on the $131,400 a year plan then it would take about 7 Ms. Nomes to rack up a million dollars in expenses over the course of a year. About 31 if she was on the $32,040 a year plan.

Yeah, I know that a hospital bed is not a $900 a month studio apartment that a minimum wage worker wouldn’t be able to afford. It’s a very specialized bed that Kaiser wants back, which is why they are suing Ms. Nome, which Kaiser admits is their attempt to entice her to pack her bags and call for a taxi to drop her off at a bus stop rather than them having to do the dirty work. Attempt to convince Ms. Nome to do the dirty work herself.

But let’s not linger. Ms. Nome sounds like a woman who’s better able to take care of herself than I would be if in her position. Had it been me and the hospital handed me my suitcases I would have ended up parked in some landfill in a short period of time, end of story. If you don’t have the material resources to exist on this planet (I mean outside of the clay and water you got as a birthday present) then you ought not to be here.

And besides, my little one wants to visit the Great Wall of China.

Oh, Digby and the Fallwell comment? The one where Fallwell was taking back what he said about choice sinners in America (pagans, abortionists, feminists, gays, lesbians, the ACLU, People for the American Way) having caused God to lift the veil of protection which had allowed no one to attack America on our soil since 1812? A few battles between American Indian Nations and Americans spring to mind as having happened, subsequent 1812, on what is now American soil or was American soil even at the time of such battles though shortly before had been soil treatied to those Indian Nations but what’s a treaty worth when none were ever kept.

Before I sign off, however, on the flip side, the good side, Marty brought home for H.o.p. (boy has he been in a great mood all day) some more colored pencils and a box of pastels. We already have both in an assortment of brands but we welcome new to try out. My mother has been drawing a lot, taking a course that uses Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain as a base. She sends us scans of her drawings, which has been a good bit of fun. H.o.p.’s drawing implements of choice remain pens and magic markers and I imagine will remain so for a while. Still, I asked the paper banker for a loan and H.o.p. gave a couple of sheets and I did a quick sketch of his pretzeled computer-absorbed form. “Look, see,” I said, “that’s you.” He was polite; studied my version of his right foot for a bit with real curiosity. Having only observed it previously in real life and in photos I imagine my misrepresentation was yes, well, a curiosity.

Now, I return to the land of Godzilla.