Responsibilty--For Real??

I'm looking at the MSNBC breaking news, about President Obama declaring that "the buck stops with me" to fix the awful AIG mess. I just gave a lecture this last week at Luther College in Decorah, Iowa about this very issue--the concept of taking responsibility, even when the mess you're left with isn't your fault. The conundrum of "responsiblity vs. blame" is a tough pill to swallow for a lot of people, I think. When I discussed my book, "The Lyncher in Me" and the idea of shouldering responsibility for past familial sins, some still question the veracity and the sincerity of my actions. I still believe, in all good conscience, that we as a people can move forward only if we're willing to shoulder the responsibility for bettering our world, whether it we created the mess or not, whether anyone else appears willing to step forward.

I absolutely am in awe of our president's willingness to do just that. Whether or not we agree with the steps he's taking, the very fact that he steps up and says, "It is I" when the rats scurry all around him (stating, "I screwed up" after the Daschle crumble is an example) has to shine a beacon of bright, elixor-producing light on a country that has been so used to minimizing, deflecting, pompous cowboy posturing for so long. A wonderul, admirable example of maturity and integrity that I can show my sons.

Where, oh where, has my little blog gone?

It's been so long since I've made an entry and I'm realizing that with Facebook and e-mails and life in general it's pretty hard to keep on top of recording my life in one more medium. Suffice to say that life continues to move at a healthy clip. Since my last entry, our president continues to move the country toward (hopefully) recovery. It's a scary road ahead, but one in which I feel, without a doubt, the drivers of the plan are focused on what is best for the majority, not only the chosen few.

Winter continues to hold us in its grip; this weekend we had snow and sunshine, all in the space of a few hours. At the same time, the crocuses (croci?) are popping up, buds are showing their...buds and baseball season is on the horizon. I leave for Guatemala in 2 weeks and I haven't got a thing to wear.

Life goes on.

Man, oh man, I love my president

I swear to the Lord, I still can't see, why Democracy means, everybody but me.

--Langston Hughes

If there is no struggle, there is no progress.

--Frederick Douglass

I am what time, circumstance, history, have made of me, certainly, but I am also, much more than that. So are we all.

--James A. Baldwin

There been times that I thought I wouldn't last for longNow think I'm able to carry on It's been a long, along time coming but I knowA change gon' come, oh yes it will!

--Sam Cooke

Trapped in the snow!!

I'm looking at my last entry--from December 5th--and I'm just now realizing it's been an entire month since my last entry. That's not to say that nothing has happened in the last 30 days; I just haven't found the time to sit down and write about any of it. So here's the last few weeks, in a nutshell:

1. There has been more Obama on the news than there has been Bush, which is always a good thing. Less Bush. WAY less Bush.

2. We've been going through a hellalot firewood at our house. Winter's here and it's been oh, so cold. All those fallen trees over the last couple years on our property--I now recognize and appreciate the sacrifice those frail alders made to keep us warm. Thank you alders! Your burnage keeps our cockles toasty.

3. We had an early release from school this year, the second time in 2 years. Snowfall in the Pacific Northwest = immobility and panic and so schools must close. This means, for us, two more days on top of the usual 2 weeks of cabin fever. A tree came down over a line and threw sparks, smoke and flame for a day or so while those of us trapped behind it huddled in fear and helplessness. Guess there's nothing to do then but sled and drink wine, which we did. Not too bad, but I'm realizing as I'm surrounded by bickering boys who by now are sick of one another (a trait I must admit I share) that I understand the true story of the Donner party. It wasn't hunger that did them in. I think if more research is done, we would find that the ones who went first were the loudest, most unshutuppable ones.

4. Oh, and we saw the fabulous, divine Dina Martina (http://www.dinamartina.com/). THANK GODDESS. A year without Dina is like a year with out you-know-who. You do know who, don't you??

Intelligence in Texas?

Yes, there is. No offense to Texans, of course; I have known many smart people from the Lone Star State. My best friend Constance is living in Texas (though she's not from there) and she's quite smart. On a recent layover through Dallas, though, I looked over to a familiar looking gentleman who was sitting alone, reading a copy of Atlantic Monthly. I didn't want to "out him" as being a celebrity-ish guy in a common area, so instead of loudly asking him if he was THE Ronald Reagan, Jr., I just asked quietly if he was "Ron." After comfirming that he indeed was, we went on to have a great conversation about Prop 8, gay rights and the supreme court before I had mercy on him and let him get back to his reading. An interesting, warm and friendly guy, not the least bit put off by my wanting to give thanks for being a sound, articulate person on the airwaves.

We had a great Thanksgiving, speaking of Thanks. Good food, family and, the next day, lots of holiday lights made their ways up onto the eaves of our house. We dug out all of our blue LED bulbs that we picked up for 1/2 price last year and, after picking up a 13 foot tree for our living room, decked the whole thing out in atomic glare bulbs. If you've never seen LED bulbs, gaze with caution, my friends. Our living room now looks like the inner core of a nuclear power plant and I imagine that the skylights our house can be seen from the space station. We were watching "The Amazing Race" (goodbye Toni and Dallas--I'm sad to see you go. Especially you, Dallas...) and by the end of the hour my eyes were burning. I couldn't tell if it was the long day, the stress of a high-octane tv show or the seared retinas I was suffering due to the lazer lights. Oh well. At least we're using 80% less electricity.

No Trouble Whatsoever

Last night, we coordinated a great babysitter for the boys and headed into the city to see Ray Lamontagne's final show of his tour, at McCaw Hall in Seattle. Simply put, it was an amazing show, and even though his set was shorter than I thought it would be, I have no complaints at all. The numbers were tight, not a lot of filler so even though he was only on stage for about an hour and 15, he probably hit about 20 songs in that time. No doubt about it, the guy's got amazing pipes. Interestingly, the stage set up was pretty non pretentious and simple. One can see that there's not a lot of ego happening with him, since he sets up the stage to put himself off to one side, showing himself as the lead singer of the band, rather than the front man. The sound in the hall was incredible and even the warm up singer, Leona Naess, was remarkable. A great night; I don't even care that I'm dead tired here at work this morning.

Novemeber 5, 2008: The Dawning of a New Era

I see trees of green, red roses too

I see them bloom for me and you

And I think to myself what a wonderful world.

I see skies of blue and clouds of white

The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night

And I think to myself what a wonderful world.

The colors of the rainbow so pretty in the sky

Are also on the faces of people going by

I see friends shaking hands saying how do you do

They're really saying I love you.

I hear babies crying, I watch them grow

They'll learn much more than I'll never know

And I think to myself what a wonderful world

Yes I think to myself what a wonderful world.

Goodbye, Yma

Last night, my partner got ahold of the newspaper before me and sadly announced that the Peruvian Songbird, Yma Sumac, had died. For anyone who has heard her sing, it's an unmistakably profound experience. Think Mariah Carey has pipes? Remember that screeching she did with that song "Emotion" way back when? Try listening to a woman whose multi-octave range makes the listener think he or she is listening to a piccolo playing. Incredible. I remember the first time I heard her, I was in a store in the Castro and I thought, "What the *#*& is this??" I was entranced and quickly went to the nearest music store and bought two CDs. Great fun.

Her website http://www.yma-sumac.com/ has a beautiful musical intro, with this announcement:

It is with deep sadness, that we report that Yma Sumac passed away at 11 am on Saturday Nov 1st. It was peaceful. Those closest to her were at her side.

A very, very private funeral will be held at an undisclosed location. Per her and her closest relative's instructions, she will be interred in Hollywood, where she spent 60 years of her life.

Her last year was spent surrounded by people who loved her and looked after her with the very best care possible. It should be a consolation that she was always surrounded by flowers, your beautiful cards, photos of her glory days, and an extraordinary view of Los Angeles' west side. Also, her personal assistant's two
little Chihuahua's, whom she loved dearly.

Although this news is written as "news" we are all devastated here. Indeed, there was plenty of time to prepare, but when that final moment comes, one finds they may not be at all prepared.

"That I made good music and made happy, their hearts" - Yma Sumac, when asked what she wanted to be remembered for.

Colin Powell: The Voice of Reason

I've always admired the man; even when he made the famous "yellow cake" speech of 2003 (not to be confused with Julia Childs' "yellow cake speech of 1969"), I couldn't help but feel as though he was a reluctant participant in something that was much bigger than he--and that he would be resigning soon after, which he did.

What came out in his endorsement of Barak Obama, though, solidified my belief that this is a man who personifies the very definition of integrity and honor. It wasn't his deep disgust over the reigning McCain tactics, nor the disillusionment he shows over the sharp right turn the current republican squall has made. What was it that he said that, to be honest, brought tears to my eyes? It was a statement that I've been trying to articulate for some time and hoped--REALLY hoped--that someone would have the balls to say:

"I'm also troubled by, not what Senator McCain says, but what members of the party say, and it is permitted to be said. Such things as 'Well you know that Mr. Obama is a Muslim.' Well the correct answer is 'He is not a Muslim, he's a Christian, he's always been a Christian.' But the really right answer is 'What if he is? Is there something wrong with being a Muslim in this country?' The answer is 'No. That's not America.' Is there something wrong with some 7-year old Muslim-American kid believing that he or she can be president?"

And then he went on to say:

"I feel strongly about this particular point because of a picture I saw in a magazine. It was a photo-essay about troops who were serving in Iraq and Afghanistan. And one picture at the tail end of this photo essay was of a mother in Arlington Cemetery and she had her head on the headstone of her son's grave. And as the picture focused in you can see the writing on the headstone. And it gave his awards, Purple Heart, Bronze Star, showed that he died in Iraq, gave his date of birth, date of death. He was 20 years old. And then at the very top of the headstone, it didn't have a Christian cross, it didn't have a Star of David. It had a crescent and a star of the Islamic faith. And his name was Karim Rashad Sultan Khan. And he was an American, he was born in New Jersey, he was 14 at the time of 9/11 and he waited until he can go serve his counrty and he gave his life."

Amen.

Now that's one spicy rodent!

Not long after a forest fire burns its way through acreage, the news media comes forth with a possible culprit. Sometimes its lightning (that would mean God did it? Or Electra Woman?), other times its bad cub scouts, or too often a deranged arsonist who likes the idea of a tsunami of flame working its way through the countryside. This time, though, the culprit is none other than a mischevous, kinda stupid and, currently, crisp squirrel. According to the AP, "Redding firefighters say the squirrel set off the blaze when it shorted out a power line, caught fire and dropped into dry vegetation." http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/n/a/2008/10/14/state/n100513D39.DTL

Typing "flaming squirrel" into Google gets me 3,190 hits (granted, most of these are repeat stories, but it's still pretty impressive), which means that apparently squirrels are quite flammable and likely wreak havoc when they are aflame--enough to get notice on the world wide web. Restaurant names and Celtic surf bands aside (http://flamingsquirrel.net/), Flaming Squirrels are quite a hot item. As opposed to, say, flaming rats (834 hits), flaming hamsters (1,290 hits) and flaming gerbils (512). Only flaming queens get more hits, but then we all know they get around so much more than the average queen (8370 hits).

A year ago, a flaming squirrel in Bayonne, NJ fell from the sky (another powerline chewer) and managed to find its way into the engine compartment of a Toyota Camry, leading to an explosive ending. http://www.nj.com/hudson/index.ssf/2007/10/flaming_squirrel_ignites_car_i.html

And in July of 2005, a flamer (yes, tightroping on a power line) managed to start a brush fire in Oroville, WA. http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/localnews/2002390256_webpyrosquirrels19.html

My favorite was this news item about a candidate for student government at Princeton. One of the things he had to do (as part of the vetting process, I guess) was to fess up that he'd poured lighter fluid on, and subsequently lit, a dead squirrel in a wacky fraterity (and booze-fueled) prank. http://www.dailyprincetonian.com/archives/2006/12/01/news/16814.shtml Those crazy kids!

A New Blog!

Due to the raging success of my previous entry, "Dear Sarah Palin", I've decided to create a new one, dedicated solely to the column. You can find it at http://helpmesarah.blogspot.com/

Submitted dilemmas are welcome...

Today I did a lesson (non-indoctrination, of course) on the electoral system and I brought the website www.pollster.com up on the screen to show an example of polling, coupled with electoral counting. 24 4th graders broke into cheers when they saw 320 to 163. I played the middle, naturally, explaining how things can change on a dime and that no matter what, the results would be historical: The first African American president or the oldest. No comment on which is the more monumental or positive.

Dear Sarah Palin

As we lead up to the all important election, I'm choosing to post a semi-regular column entitled, "Dear Sarah" So that we can all benefit from the sage advice of our possible, future VP.

Dear Sarah,

I was at a dinner party when the hostess, who was drunk, suddenly launched into an off key (and off color) version of "Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny Yellow Polka Dot Bikini". The problem is, my former wife was killed by a shark and all that washed up on the shore was the exact thing that the hostess was singing. I chose not to say anything, but as a result, the fondue was more of a "fon-don't" if you know what I mean. What should I do next time?

Bikini waxing nostalgia

Dear BWN,

I hear ya, champ. Back in my hometown of Wasilla, we have a saying: "Drill, Kill, then take a pill." What does that have to do with yer problem? Not a whole heckofa lot! Ya see, we gotta spread demcracy in the world and that's not just limited to our neighbors that we can see from our front porch, ya know. I'd say that bein tolerant of your friend's choice ta drink and sing is important. I have lotsa friends who drink and sing and if that's their choice then I'm not one to judge. Not out loud, anyway, if ya know what I mean and I'm sher ya do. Like that time when Todd and his buddy went fer their monthly snowmachine racing trip and I tied a note onto the handle and when it came back the note was still there and the tank was still full of the colored gas that I tinted before they left. I'm not one to judge, by golly, but I sher woulda felt better if that tank had been empty dontcha know. So, BWN, buck up and go shoot a wolf next time. Believe me, killin things makes life a lot easier sometimes!

Obliviously yours,
Sarah

Cloris--gotta love her!

So I found myself doing the "guilty pleasure" thing last night--watching "Dancing with the Stars." I had initially just wanted to see Cloris Leachman, but I have to admit that I got a kick out of a few of the others (though three or four were just painful to watch--like dealing with your drunk uncle who tries to cut in on the bride during the couple's dance). Still, Cloris was awesome. Who can't be enamoured of her? Nurse Deisel, Frau Blucher (sp?), Phyllis. She's a total riot and just watching her seeming to have the time of her life and being her acidic self was awesome. I hope she sticks around for a long time (on the show, and in life).

We're in full force at school and it's painfully obvious that we're in the thick of fall, too. Rain all weekend, chilly mornings, gray skies. I rather like it, but there is that whole "rebuild the woodrack and start splitting firewood" thing. I have nothing more to say this morning, but close with a quick Haiku:

Irish cream cocoa

smooth jazz on KPLU

Ease into the day

I'm Back!

Okay, so this summer has been one of learning, (light) travel and trying to catch up on projects that can't possibly be caught up on (I know, totally ending that with a preposition).

It's been a good summer, but I am glad to be back at school. I did meet my goal of completing the first draft of my novel. I'm now mired in revisions and hope to have something to send to my reader in the next few weeks. Then, with any luck, I'll be able to have a "final" product to shop around by November.

We did a wine tour in Willamette (awesome), I returned to Missouri for the annual Pennytown reuion (one of the best weekends ever) and, just last weekend, went to Portland to see Antony and the Johnsons in concert, with the Portland Symphony. Amazing; one of the greatest live performances I've ever seen.

I would get into political talk, but frankly, I'm worn out. Speaking of being frank, though, I saw that Al Franken won his primary in Minnesota. Hooray! I had the great fortune of (kind of) meeting him when I was in Minneapolis this past June. He and I were both interviewed on the Twin Cities Public TV program "Alamanac" and we exchanged pleasantries and I handed him his notes when he left the interview desk without them. That was the extent of it. I wish he'd stuck around to hear about my book (which you can learn more about by going to http://www.thelyncherinme.com/ ) But I was impressed with his demeanor and his ability to tackle not-so-soft questions from the interviewers. I can't wait to see Sarah Palin do the same, if it ever happens. Oh, did I get political by mentioning Caribou Barbie? Well, slap my face.

What a Freakin' Week...

It's been one of those weeks (or two) for me. You know, those ones where if things are going to go wrong, they do. I tend to get leery when things go too well for too long; I imagine that the bottom will soon fall out from under me and the house of cards will collapse (a mix of metaphors, I know).

The trials of being a landlord were in high form this month. A leaky toilet and a broken drier. I went to fix both, was unable to do the drier (is it spelled "dryer"?) and was only able to do a half-assed job on the toilet (that figure of speech is quite accurate since, when I replaced the toilet, the new seat was too small and the toilet wobbled). And then, I was to discover a major drain leak emptying all the contents of the washing machine into the basement. To add to all of this, I had just been diagnosed the day before with bursitis in my left shoulder, this "out of the blue" swollen tendon that made even buttoning my pants hell.

And that brings me to the whole "bursitis" thing. With all do respect to people who actually suffer from these things (and are older than I am), but this is the first condition that my brain, which is frequently obsessing about age lately, has attached the label of "old person's diseasae." I'm expecting bunions, gout and osteoporosis next. Bursitis?? All I know is it hurts somethin' fierce and I didn't do anything that I know of to bring it about. I know, get out the tiny violins...

So anyway, I'm repairing (or not) the items in our duplex and, of course, everything that requires an ounce of muscle is on the left side, so I'm pretty much useless. Time to call in the professionals and open the valve on my bank account. And then, in the same week, our hot tub breaks down (I hesitate to even say that since I never dreamed I'd even be able to have a hot tub, much less a really nice bathtub) and our propane tank runs dry. With fuel prices through the roof, it cost us 20% more to fill the thing up.

I'm jonesing for a better August. My next posting, when I get to it, will be must less ranting and more wise musings, I promise.

Here I Am!

I'm in week two of the Puget Sound Writer's Project, an intense 4 week (with a half dozen Saturdays over the coming school year) of writing, reflecting, learning, sharing, etc. with about 20 other participants. We're all teachers, and we're all writers. It's been great. I've been riding my bike to and from the UW (from the ferry dock--about a 45 minute ride through the city) and it's been wonderful to have a good sweat twice a day that doesn't involve sitting in an overheated car in the middle of traffic. The class runs from 8:30 to 3:30 each day and, even though I'm not lifting bags of cement or scraping paint from the side of a house, I come home exhausted each day. But I love it. The enviroment of the university, academia, shirtless hackysack players...I mean...academia. Yeah, that's it.
:)

I'm glad to have a quick moment to update this blog because I've not had time at a computer, really. This weekend was a productive one for my current novel. I was able to crank out upwards of 30 pages and they're not completely horrible, so that's good. My goal is to have a draft ready for revision by the end of this summer and I think I may make it. Fingers crossed (and typing).

I dreamed the other night that I was lost in Italy, and I wasn't even afraid. In fact, the only thing that stressed me about it was that I was worried I wouldn't catch my plane home and I didn't have a sub to start the first day of school.

Jump In, Jump Out

So, I've been chastised by a couple folks for not having updated my blog in some time. Guilty. I think the end of the school year, transitions, laziness are all the culprits. So, in spite of the fact that I have much to tell, I'll give a brief rundown of highlights and (hopefully) expand on them later.

Al Franken. Yes, Al Franken. On my first night in Minneapolis (for my second mini-book tour), I gave an interview on the program "Almanac" for Twin Cities Public Television and had the great fortune to watch (and follow) Al Franken, who is running (and really, should win) for the U.S. Senate seat representing Minnesota. He was articulate, smart, gracious and even funny (he is a funny guy, for crying out loud--something that for some reason people want to hold against him).

Meeting a descendant of one of the mob participants. At one book signing, I had the honor of meeting a man who came to point out his father in the photo of the lynchings. It was a first for me, and a moment that I savored. We had a wonderful conversation and I could see that my book had a great impact on him. If nothing else, his words will carry me through the rest of this whole author thing. What I'd hoped I'd be able to do with the book, I can see I've managed to do. Very cool.

More later...

There Goes the Gayborhood...

So, 4 out of 7 California Supreme Court justices recommend equality for their citizens who choose marriage. Outstanding. The only negative for me in that little item is that 3 out 7 are fearful that the entire planet will implode when two men or two women have their relationship upheld along with opposite gender couples. Here's a snippet of the report from CNN:

"There can be no doubt that extending the designation of marriage to same-sex couples, rather than denying it to all couples, is the equal protection remedy that is most consistent with our state's general legislative policy and preference," Thursday's ruling read.
Accordingly, the law's language "limiting the designation of marriage to a 'union between a man and a woman' is unconstitutional, and ... the remaining statutory language must be understood as making the designation of marriage available to both opposite-sex and same-sex couples," it read.

For the naysayers, if you don't haul out the old, "Adam and Eve/Adam and Steve" and "What about polygamy and marrying your dog" argument, I won't get into the old, "Look at thrice married Rush Limbaugh" or "Britney Spears models the sanctity of marriage" or "Levitcus also says you should stone to death your disrespectful children" arguments. The term "sanctity of marriage" is a simple term used when the person saying it doesn't really want to deal with the complex issues around relationships, partnerships and his or her own fears. "What about the sanctity of marriage?" they say, upon discovering infidelity. "The sanctity of marraige compels you to obey me!" "Oh dear, now that gays can marry, the sanctity of my marraige is shattered." The reality is, in this day and age, marriage is a legal recognition gifted by the government to protect (and take advantage of) two people's relationship. What it means in the heart, what the partnership is at its very core, can never be defined by a piece of paper--whether it's you and your wife who have it or the two men next door.

My partner and I have been married twice--to one another. Once in Portland, Oregon, again in Canada. Did it make our relationship stronger? Did it make us feel like we were more legitimate? Honestly, it did. At the moment, we had this sense of validation if only because we were finally being awarded the same thing that "normal" (as a co-worker once harmlessly called us) couples receive. For about a day or two, we rode the high of having had our relatioship blessed by an official "relationship blesser" and, of course, having our family there. But once the cake was eaten and everyone had gone home, we were left with what we had before: A pretty stable, loving partnership, one in which each of us often takes care of our own needs first and, occasionally, places our partner's needs before ours. Where we misplace our keys, neglect the dusting, argue, make up, hug our children, cook dinner, disagree over how to load the dishwasher and tell one another "I love you" on a daily basis. The marriage certificate we have framed is a nice symbol for what someone once tried to give us and of the beautful event that was our wedding. But in the reality of daily life, it doesn't form the foundation of who and what we are.

So what am I saying? Do I care that California may allow gay marriage now? Do I want Washington state to do the same? Of course. Will it make me love my partner more? No. Will it cause any of my sons to suddenly broaden their search of potential life partners to include males now? Likely not. What it will do is give me the simple things that anyone wants with the person they love. To exist with him or her, enjoying the same rights that his or her straight neighbors have. The recognition of the agreement to be a partnership, no judgements on their worthiness, stability, prettiness or palatbility. Just an equal support of their desire to be with one another and of the dream that they may grow old as a couple.

A Real Cereal Killer

I came across the website The Imaginary World the other day when I was looking for the name of a cereal that I remembered having once--ONCE--as a kid (we were not the "sugar cereal" kind of family. In fact, we were the anti-sugar cereal family. The bowls of puffed rice and puffed wheat that I most recall could have easily doubled as packing filler). Anyway, as soon as I found the picture of the "Freakies" cereal box, a flood of warm memories washed over me, finding that goulish rubber figure tucked near the bottom of the box. I don't remember what the cereal tasted like, but I'm sure it was sugar-laden and probably really abrasive, like a lot of those cereals were. You know, eat a bowl of Cap'n Crunch or Honeycomb ("Big Big crunch in a big, big bite!") or Cookie Crisp, then swish a dose of orange juice around in your mouth and see what I mean. Anyway, it's a fun site to go through not only to see the toys, foods and ads that you remember (or don't remember) but to get a sense of the absurdities that have passed through Madison Avenue. I like to imagine an ideas meeting where a guy raises his hand and says, "I know...how about a mascot that looks like a lit up, alcoholic Wall Street tycoon who would sooner knife you in the back or kidnap your child than serve you dinner?"

Ahh...good times.

Another Human Being Saved

James Lee Woodard is a man experiencing an unexpected, greatly deserved rebirth. Another in a line of embarassing "Oops, we're sorry we stole half of your life away from you" moments in the American justice system, Mr. Woodard was freed after having spent TWENTY SEVEN YEARS of his life in prison for a murder he didn't commit. (Bonus points--guess which state? If you guessed that one that puts out oil and a president who can hardly steer a bicycle along a trail much less steer a country, then you win!) Thanks to the Innoncence Project , Mr. Woodard can somehow start to assemble the rest of his life. At age 55, he certainly still has many years ahead of him, though probably even more behind him that he'd rather forget. Sentenced to life in prison, I imagine the only thing Woodard can be thankful for is that he didn't get the death penalty. In the 27 years he was behind bars, Texas exectuted 406, according to the site TexasExecutions.com. And according to the Innocence Project, 31 individuals in Texas have been exonerated by DNA testing alone. It's not clear how many prisoners have been moved from death row due to overturned cases, but one can only imagine how many still remain to be proven innocent. Feelings about state-sanctioned killing of guilty people aside, the mere fact that there can be one person executed for a crime that he or she didn't commit should wipe the laws from the books with no discussion whatsoever. In the movies (and in real life), there are many unhappy endings where a reactionary mob or angry lover pulls the trigger or cinches the noose, only to walk away dazed when the reality of innocence comes to light. It's the consequence of violent impulse and shortsighted justice. When we have the luxury of time and science, why do we continue to hear about underrepresented prisoners begging to be heard?

**It is often easier to become outraged by injustice half a world away than by oppression and discrimination half a block from home. ~Carl T. Rowan