Privilege

Privilege.

Writer Roxane Gay defines it as "the right or immunity granted as a peculiar benefit, advantage, or favor...Privilege is relative and contextual. Few people [in this country] have no privilege at all." (From her essay "Peculiar Benefits, in her book Bad Feminist (2014).) Daniel J. Beal defines it as "a group of unearned cultural, legal, social, and institutional rights extended to a group based on their social group membership. Individuals with privilege are considered to be the normative group, leaving those without access to this privilege invisible, unnatural, deviant, or just plain wrong." (Beal, "Conflict and Cooperation in Diverse Workgroups," 2009.)

I work in a court and see privilege played out in many different ways. I have presented workshops on implicit bias, the kissing cousin of privilege, several times (and will be doing so at a state conference with a co-facilitator in March). That being said, I am like many privileged people in that I swallow hard when I am in a group and someone makes a statement smacking of privilege. While I know I should speak up, I too often don't speak up because I am too uncomfortable and don't want to rock the boat.

So I was both stunned and pleased when I rocked the boat at a recent training session.

The training session was on domestic violence and mediation: how to screen for it, how to address it, what precautions a mediator may need to take if the dynamics of the mediation take a turn for the worse. The facilitator, a well-known and experienced mediator in Columbus, was talking about items in a mediation room that could be turned into weapons, such as metal travel mugs. She related the story from many years ago when she had a young mother with an infant and a worker from Children's Services in the room. The agency worker went to take the child from the mother. The mother was not aware this was happening at the mediation (nor was the mediator). In response, the mother picked up a chair and threw it at the agency worker. Our facilitator assured us the chair did not hit anyone (including the infant) but that she was always careful after that as to what was in the room. She also related that, many years later, she still felt she had failed at that mediation by not making it a safe space for anyone, including the mother.

A few minutes later, an attendee, a woman attorney, spoke up and said the mediator should not consider it a failure. Perhaps she had saved the child from a terrible life. And if nothing else, "the mother showed her true colors in the mediation," said the attendee.

We were all quiet for a moment. I was uncomfortable. But instead of swallowing my discomfort as I so often do, I spoke up.

"I don't think the mother showed her 'true colors' at all," I said. "I'm not sure I would be calm and in control if Children's Services suddenly took my child during a meeting and I wasn't expecting it. Losing control wouldn't make me a bad parent." 

All of us in the room were white, well educated (all but one of us were attorneys), and not struggling with dire poverty. To my knowledge, none of us had had any children removed by an agency. Those are all privileges that the long ago mother may not have had, or may have had some but not all of them.

Privilege is everywhere. It is not inherently evil, just as implicit biases are not inherently evil. But when it raised its head in that training, I'm grateful I found the resolve to say something.

A statement I keep in my office is "speak the truth, even if your voice shakes." I'm learning.

Books And More Books

Books 8, 9, and 10 on the list below. 

I have a friend, a constant reader, who keeps a log of every book she has read. The log, or at least the recent years of it, is on her iPhone, so when we are discussing a book, she can pull up the title and author. And I have met others, always women, who have kept book logs, also going back years, in notebooks or special journals. I admire the thoroughness of recording the reading life, but I always think, "Holy Smokes, I'd have to have a whole bookshelf set aside just for journals of what I have read!"

This is on my mind because I have several friends who set themselves a challenge this year of reading 50 books. Occasionally, they post on Facebook or Instagram how they are doing in the challenge.

I love people committing to reading and give them thumbs up when I see that happening.

Seeing all these reading challenges got me thinking about how much I read a year. I confess: I am a voracious reader. I am one of those people who grew up reading the backs of cereal boxes to have something to read since we weren't allowed to bring books to the table. Reading is my go-to activity whenever I have downtime. Reading is how I spend a huge portion of my evenings. I also read very, very fast, so finishing several books a week is not unusual for me.

So how many books a year do I read? More than I think? Or way less than I think?

I'm not joining a challenge, but I am going to keep track of the books I read (and reread, because I often reread books when I am waiting for selected titles to come in at the library)  in 2018. Here's my list current to date:
1. Adams by David McCollough ( A reread)
2. Babbit by Sinclair Lewis (A reread)
3. Dear Martin by Nic Stone (Excellent YA novel about race and perception of race)
4. John Quincy Adams: A Public Life, A Private Life by Paul Nagel (After reading Adams again, I wanted to read more about John Quincy Adams. Fascinating man.)
5. Prairie Fires: The American Dreams of Laura Ingalls Wilder by Caroline Fraser (Best. Wilder. Biography. Ever.)
6. Ordinary Resurrections by Jonathan Kozol (A reread of a book by someone I admire greatly)
7. The Thin Light of Freedom: The Civil War and Emancipation in the Heart of America by Edward Ayers (Wow wow wow. A history from 1862-1902 told through the lenses of two communities, Chambersburg PA and Staunton VA, using letters, newspaper editorials, and diaries from members of those communities, including African-Americans who fought for the Union. It was excellent, with a thoughtful analysis of the political positions of the major parties and players and how those changed after the 1864 presidential election and the lost promise of Reconstruction with Andrew Johnson in the White House following the assassination of Lincoln. At some point sooner than later, I will read the author's companion book, In The Presence of Mine Enemies, The Civil War in the Heart of America, 1869-1864.)
8. Halsey Street by Naima Coster (An excellent debut novel that I learned of because I am reading through the titles on the list 46 Books by Women of Color to Read in 2018.)
9. When They Call You A Terrorist: A Black Lives Matter Memoir by Patrisse Khan-Cullors and asha bandele (The authors with other women founded the BLM movement because, as they make abundantly clear in their work, Black lives don't matter in this country. Even more so since January 20, 2107. This too came from the list of 46 Books referred to in 8.)
10. Ice Ghosts: The Epic Hunt For The Lost Franklin Expedition by Paul Watson (Because what could be fascinating than a search for a lost Arctic expedition from 1845? I mean, seriously!)

I just finished Ice Ghosts last night and need to head back to the library, where more titles are waiting to be picked up. I have another nine on hold, several from the 46 books list referred to above. If I don't make it today, I will no doubt reread something around the house and add it to the list.

To be continued.

Small Moment

We have been in a lockdown deep freeze for much of the last two weeks, so my time outside is limited. But that doesn't mean I can't experiment with the new camera inside. These are a few of the small items I keep on my desk.

This pig has been part of my life forever. It probably belonged to my mom or one of her siblings, maybe even my grandmother, before I got my hands on it in grade school. It has traveled back and forth across this country more times than I like to think about. I keep it as a visual reminder that money isn't everything and being frugal helps.

The rocks are from Lake Superior, a wonderful trip Warren and I took several years ago. The seashell? Just one I have had for a long time because I like how it looks.

I bought this Frida Kahlo/Day of the Dead figurine in Portland on one of my trips there. I loved the combination of the watermelon and the parrot. And seeing her grinning at me each time I sit down to type reminds me of this favorite quote by Sir Francis Bacon: "Begin doing what you want to do now. We are not living in eternity. We have only this moment, sparkling like a star in our hand—and melting like a snowflake."

Not that the snow outside is melting at all.

Part of the learning curve with the new camera is the focus, which is not unlike life itself. Each time I pick the camera up, I have to think about my focus and what I am looking to see. Each day I wake up, I have to think about my focus and what I am looking to do.

Sometimes life imitates art after all.

Money 2018

This came from—what else?—a notice for continuing legal education! We lawyers always think about money!

It is a new year and I am spending some of my time reflecting on money: how 2017 finished out, what 2018 may hold, and where I hope to take our household and my personal finances.

I wrote about money several times during 2017: starting the year with stringent monetary controls, actually looking at my finances visually every paycheck, keeping my accounts closely, and reflecting on where things stood as I headed into the last quarter of the year. So how did 2017 finish up?

I tracked our food and household spending (cleaning supplies including laundry, shared toiletries such as toothpaste, and household items like lightbulbs, garbage liners and such) for all of 2017. The total for the year came to $2518.62, or $209.88 per month on the average, or about $210.00 per month. My goal in 2018? Get that figure under $200.00 per month. How much under? I'd love to hit about $175.00 per month. We'll see. One of the tweaks I am making for 2018 is tracking the food separately from the household items, although I will combine them for the monthly totals. I'm curious where the dollars go.

One item I did not track in 2017 but will in 2018 is how much we spend, individually and together, on eating out. "Eating out" means any and all eating out: the cup of cocoa at the coffee shop with good friends, the quick drive-thru bag of food post chemo, pizza at our favorite restaurant. Other than when we travel, when our eating out rate jumps, I think we spend less than $25.00, and usually less than $20.00, per month. We always lack the time and often lack the interest in eating out. I don't "do" lunches because lunch is the hardest meal for me to eat, period. (I do well with brownbagging it, when I can be very specific about what is before me, but not so well otherwise. Sometimes friends from outside have been known to join me for brownbag lunch in my office.)

I start every year, as do most people with health insurance, with my out-of-pocket and deductible reset to zero. My out-of-pocket is $250.00; I have to spend that before my insurance kicks in. After the $250.00 is met, I pay 10% of all covered medical expenses until I have paid out $1500.00. I have an MRI scheduled for January 15 so I will meet my out-of-pocket and a chunk of the deductible right out of the gate.

[A note about the MRI: IF I had been able to get it approved and scheduled before the end of 2017, the cost to me would have been zero. However, my insurance company chose to deny the MRI (which is related to my myeloma and is not just a whim), issued a written denial with a false statement in it and some specious medical reasoning, then refused to take an appeal from my specialist at Mayo because he was not the doctor who ordered it. (My personal physician did; Dr. Leung at Mayo, who said it had to be done, agreed with me that it could be done in Ohio.) When my personal physician finally got through on the peer-to-peer line with my insurance company and explained to a real doctor why the MRI was medically necessary,  it was approved immediately. Unfortunately, the whole insurance rigamarole took until January 3 and so I will paying for a portion of it. On the bright side, that just gets me that much closer to meeting my deductible for 2018.]

On the matter of insurance, the county commissioners decided to require employees to pay 11% of the premium, up from 10%. Between that additional 1% and the annual premium increase, I am paying $108.00 a paycheck, up $15.00 from the $93.00 of last year. On the one hand, it's still a great deal. On the other hand, as a county employee, many of us make considerably less than we would in the private sector. Historically, the trade off has been better insurance and retirement. (For the record, Ohio has been systematically cutting away at retirement forpublic employees, making that less attractive than in the past.) The 3% COLA I got to my hourly wage just nudged ahead of the increase in my insurance premiums; I take home $9.00 more per paycheck in 2018 than I did in 2017.  Be still my heart. (Don't mind me; I'm grateful I have health insurance, and good insurance at that.)

As alway, I am fascinated with those who make January a no-spend month. I make it a "spend as little as possible" month. (Heck, I make all my months that kind of month.) Besides continuing to follow Katy Wolk-Stanley, the Non-Consumer Advocate, I am also following the January Money Diet with Eliza Cross at Happy Simple Living. There is also the No Spending for the Year 2018 Facebook group, which is just a hoot. I get a kick out of seeing what other people are doing to curb their spending.  The company does me good, even if 99.999% of the time I just watch from the sidelines.

With every paycheck this year (starting with the first one of the year), I am doing what served me so well last year: take out my fixed expenses (which includes yoga, Amanda!), write a check to my "expense account" (my separate checking account that serves as savings), and live on what's left.

Let's see what 2018 brings.

Small Moment

Back in November, I wrote about a lunchtime meal thrown together from the ends of a loaf of bread and the remainder of a block of Velveeta cheese stuff that had been lingering in our refrigerator since Ramona's visit in early July.

Friday evening's meal was right up with there on the Frugality + No Food Waste scale. Behold the homemade pizza. Dough: made myself (maybe 50 cents worth of flour bought on sale with a coupon and yeast with a drop of olive oil and a sprinkle of sugar—maybe). Topping: about a third of a jar of Prego tomato sauce bought on sale for 99 cents (33 cents), 1 onion (one of four from a 2 pound bag of sweet onions for $1.59, so another 40 cents), the remains of a bag of shredded mozzarella bought months ago with a coupon during a sale (the whole bag, which was 16 ounces, was 75 cents (it was a good sale and a great coupon) so the approximate fourth that went into the pizza was 19 cents), miscellaneous spices (10 cents would be ample), about a fifth of a can of parmesan cheese from Aldi (it being Aldi, the can was $1.79, so another 36 cents), and—wait for it—the last of the pepperoni that her parents bought Ramona when she was here (free and leftover to boot). So for a whopping $1.88, we dined well. Heck, add another 50 cents for the small salads and the can of pop ("soda" to you all) Warren had and we still ate well.

The savings were even sweeter because while the dough was rising, Warren and I went out in search of something he could mount his new CNC machine on. A sheet of plywood priced out at about $49.99. So we went to ReStore, the retail arm of Habitat For Humanity, and looked for a solid core door, which would have been about $15.00 or $20.00. No luck. But ReStore did have a brand new pallet, of thick plywood, for $3.00. Actually, $2.25 because everything was 25% off, but Warren was so thrilled with the pre-sale price that he donated the change back to Habitat For Humanity.

I'll be writing a longer post about money: what 2017 looked like and what 2018 holds. But if this is what it holds, we'll be living high on the hog for pennies.

Deep Freeze

Along with the rest of the Midwest and the East coast (I can't speak for the rest of the country right now), we are locked into a deep freeze. It is cold beyond cold out. So enjoy this post from 2015, when we experienced a similar weather cycle.

Friday, February 20, 2015

Inch Fifty: The Ninth Circle of Hell Has Nothing on Us

In the 1300s, the Italian poet Dante Alighieri wrote a three-part epic poem entitled The Divine Comedy. I have not read the entire work, but I have read the first part, Inferno, more than once. The Inferno describes Dante's trip through hell, with the Greek poet Virgil as his guide. I have not read it in recent decades, but some things stick with you, and that work is one of them in my case.

Dante divides Hell into nine descending circles, with the sins and punishments growing more severe the lower one descends. The ninth circle is the very bottom of Hell, the lowest of the lowest, where Satan resides with the traitors, the most evil of sinners.

The ninth circle is not full of fire and brimstone. It is not a searing, scorched wasteland. You couldn't toast a marshmallow, let alone warm your hands in the ninth circle.

No, as Dante wrote it, the ninth circle is a frozen Hell. Satan is encased to his waist in ice and flaps his wings ceaselessly, producing the icy winds that keep everything frozen. It is without light, it is without warmth, it is without comfort.

I don't live in the ninth circle of Hell. I live in Ohio, which right now far exceeds the ninth circle. We are in the midst of a cold winter, the cold this week exacerbated by an occurrence of a Siberian Express. A Siberian Express is a  name dreamed up by some bored meteorologist to describe a sustained, frigid, often sub-zero weather mass, often originating in Siberia. The resulting temperatures take no prisoners.

There is a reason that the Soviet regime located its gulags in Siberia.

Yesterday all schools were canceled because the temperature was 3 or 5 or something like that, with a windchill of sub-zero temperatures. Today schools were canceled again because the temperature at 7 a.m. locally ranged from -3 to -12 before the windchill.

Minus twelve. Really?

Because of my job and a major community commitment, I was out of the house both days before 8 a.m. I don't care how much one bundles up (and trust me, I do), there is nothing, absolutely nothing, that will guard every part of the body against that kind of cold.

It is cold, cold, cold. It is Dante cold. It is the Keats cold of the Eve of St. Agnes. It is way past any cold Robert Frost every penned.

When Dante and Virgil leave the ninth circle, they reemerge on the earth just before dawn on Easter Sunday. E quindi uscimmo a riveder le stelle.

"And then we emerged to see the stars."

I am hoping the spring emerges at some point from the wasteland of winter. After all, the major league pitchers and catchers reported to spring training this week.

I wish I could paraphrase Shelley:

Be through my lips to unawaken'd earth
The trumpet of the prophecy! O Wind,
If the pitchers report, can Spring be far behind?

But right now, the Wind is the Siberian Wind, and there is no joy in Mudville.