Hugh Hollowell

Just a quick heads up that I will be out of town for the next four days.  I have been invited to Cincinati to hang with some folks who do inner-city work (very similar to what I do), only a) they are better at it than I am and b) they have been doing it since I was 10 years old.  There is so much I can learn here, I just had to accept when asked.

My internet prospects are uncertain for the next few days, so be patient with me if you email me and I do not jump right on a response.  I hope to blog about the trip, complete with pictures and such, but it may have to wait until I get back.

Y’all be good while I am gone, OK?

If this stuff happened in a third world country, we would send the UN in to monitor the elections…

Source: YouTube

If you click on something and get a 404 error, let me know, would you? I think I have most of the bugs worked out, but you never know…

I have made some major design changes around here, and I am testing them out. Rock on.

Say hello to Felix.

You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintery light. But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen. When the cold rains kept on and killed the spring, it was as though a young person died for no reason.

Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast.

This one is pretty easy. It was Malia, my 10-year-old daughter's birthday party. We were in Montana. And you know, she's a Fourth of July baby. So often times, during this campaign, we'd be traveling during birthdays. And so we were in this small hotel, I think a Holiday Inn. And we had this big public thing. The staff organized for a smaller family party. And we were in this nondescript conference room—with—Malia and Sasha, Michelle, me, my sister, my brother-in-law and my niece. And there was a cake. And there was some food which wasn't, you know, stellar. And the staff had put together an iPod of all of her favorite music. The Jonas Brothers and Beyoncé. And we spent the evening just dancing. And we were all dancing to their favorite songs. And they were laughing because, you know, obviously their daddy is dancing ridiculous. And Malia came up and said, "This is the best birthday I've ever had." And she meant it. And—and I looked at her and I realized—you know, that she was growing up. And that she was wise, turning out to be somebody who would say that to her dad even if she didn't mean it, just to make me feel good. And yeah, it chokes me up right now talking about it. Yeah, my kids get to me every time.

The New York Observer.

Please, do not adjust your set (that dates me…).

In an effort to make this blog more multimedia friendly, I have done a revamp of the layout. The basic structure is now in place, expect some tweaks in the weeks to come.

The overall plan is to make it more friendly to shorter posts, links, videos and so on. This has been harder than it should be, but I think I have the bugs worked out now.

Sit back and enjoy.

First, a warning: this post will not make sense to most of you. Just go with it, OK?

Once upon a time, I knew this guy. He owned a small business, just like I did. And just like I did, he struggled to make ends meet. And we would talk about it, and talking about it would lead to talking about other things and one day, we realized we were friends.

It was that very male friendship; for example, we would talk about our significant others, but never managed to get them in a room together. There were many more things like that, but we, the two of us, were friends. He would struggle with his kids and we would talk about it. I would struggle with the relationship I was in at the time and we would talk about it. And when that relationship I was in went to hell in a handcart, he was there–never sappy but there, nonetheless.

One thing we talked about often and agreed on was how bad Memphis had become. We were both, as I said, business owners and both had once had dreams of writing for a living. Like kindred spirits, we both dreamed of leaving Memphis and pursuing our dreams.

One day, I did just that. I remember telling him I was finally moving and seeing a combination of what I took to be happiness for me and frustration for him. Our relationship changed a bit that day… after that, it was almost as if we were afraid to invest any more into it, knowing I was not going to be around.

So, I left, and started writing again and now write a fair amount for pay and am living my dream and rarely think about Memphis and even more rarely write anyone there because I am a horrible corespondent.

But I still read his blog, because once we were very close and I have always wanted the sort of family he has, and I live vicariously through his parental joy. I do not know this, but suspect that he no longer reads mine, as I talk a good deal about faith, which is a topic he has little use for. But honestly, I just do not know.

The other day he announced on his blog that he has sold his business and is now going to try his hand at freelance writing full-time. I know him, and know how scary this is going to be for him, and how much anxiety this is going to cause him, and how much he will enjoy it and how this is what he was made to do.

The one thing he does not know, unless he still does read my blog, is how very proud I am of him for living his dream. If you are reading this, RJA, you inspire me. Keep up the good fight.

Note: The following post is NOT a political post. The examples are political, but because they are known to all of us and it is a context we all share. I really have no desire to argue politics with any of you. Vote for whoever you want, just vote.

This is from modern day race-relations prophet Tim Wise:

White privilege is when you can get pregnant at seventeen like Bristol Palin and everyone is quick to insist that your life and that of your family is a personal matter, and that no one has a right to judge you or your parents, because “every family has challenges,” even as black and Latino families with similar “challenges” are regularly typified as irresponsible, pathological and arbiters of social decay.

White privilege is when you can call yourself a “fuckin’ redneck,” like Bristol Palin’s boyfriend does, and talk about how if anyone messes with you, you’ll “kick their fuckin’ ass,” and talk about how you like to “shoot shit” for fun, and still be viewed as a responsible, all-American boy (and a great son-in-law to be) rather than a thug.

White privilege is when you can attend four different colleges in six years like Sarah Palin did (one of which you basically failed out of, then returned to after making up some coursework at a community college), and no one questions your intelligence or commitment to achievement, whereas a person of color who did this would be viewed as unfit for college, and probably someone who only got in in the first place because of affirmative action.

White privilege is when you can claim that being mayor of a town smaller than most medium-sized colleges, and then Governor of a state with about the same number of people as the lower fifth of the island of Manhattan, makes you ready to potentially be president, and people don’t all piss on themselves with laughter, while being a black U.S. Senator, two-term state Senator, and constitutional law scholar, means you’re “untested.”?

White privilege is being able to say that you support the words “under God” in the pledge of allegiance because “if it was good enough for the founding fathers, it’s good enough for me,” and not be immediately disqualified from holding office–since, after all, the pledge was written in the late 1800s and the “under God” part wasn’t added until the 1950s–while if you’re black and believe in reading accused criminals and terrorists their rights (because the Constitution, which you used to teach at a prestigious law school requires it), you’re a dangerous and mushy liberal who isn’t fit to safeguard American institutions.?

White privilege is being able to be a gun enthusiast and not make people immediately scared of you.?

White privilege is being able to have a husband who was a member of an extremist political party that wants your state to secede from the Union, and whose motto is “Alaska first,” and no one questions your patriotism or that of your family, while if you’re black and your spouse merely fails to come to a 9/11 memorial so she can be home with her kids on the first day of school, people immediately think she’s being disrespectful.?

White privilege is being able to make fun of community organizers and the work they do–like, among other things, fight for the right of women to vote, or for civil rights, or the 8-hour workday, or an end to child labor–and people think you’re being pithy and tough, but if you merely question the experience of a small town mayor and 18-month governor with no foreign policy expertise beyond a class she took in college and the fact that she lives near Russia, you’re somehow being mean, or even sexist.?

White privilege is being able to convince white women who don’t even agree with you on any substantive issue to vote for you and your running mate anyway, because all of a sudden your presence on the ticket has inspired confidence in these same white women, and made them give your party a “second look.”?

White privilege is being able to fire people who didn’t support your political campaigns and not be accused of abusing your power or being a typical politician who engages in favoritism, while being black and merely knowing some folks from the old-line political machines in Chicago means you must be corrupt.?

White privilege is when you can take nearly twenty-four hours to get to a hospital after beginning to leak amniotic fluid, and still be viewed as a great mom whose commitment to her children is unquestionable, and whose “next door neighbor” qualities make her ready to be VP, while if you’re a black candidate for president and you let your children be interviewed for a few seconds on TV, you’re irresponsibly exploiting them.

White privilege is being able to give a 36-minute speech in which you talk about lipstick and make fun of your opponent, while laying out no substantive policy positions on any issue at all, and still manage to be considered a legitimate candidate, while a black person who gives an hour speech the week before, in which he lays out specific policy proposals on several issues, is still criticized for being too vague about what he would do if elected.

White privilege is being able to attend churches over the years whose pastors say that people who voted for John Kerry or merely criticize George W. Bush are going to hell, and that the U.S. is an explicitly Christian nation and the job of Christians is to bring Christian theological principles into government, and who bring in speakers who say the conflict in the Middle East is God’s punishment on Jews for rejecting Jesus, and everyone can still think you’re just a good church-going Christian, but if you’re black and friends with a black pastor who has noted (as have Colin Powell and the U.S. Department of Defense) that terrorist attacks are often the result of U.S. foreign policy and who talks about the history of racism and its effect on black people, you’re an extremist who probably hates America.?

White privilege is not knowing what the Bush Doctrine is when asked by a reporter, and then people get angry at the reporter for asking you such a “trick question,” while being black and merely refusing to give one-word answers to the queries of Bill O’Reilly means you’re dodging the question, or trying to seem overly intellectual and nuanced.?

White privilege is being able to go to a prestigious prep school, then to Yale and Harvard Business School (George W. Bush), and still be seen as an “average guy,” while being black, going to a prestigious prep school, then Occidental College, then Columbia, and then Harvard Law, makes you “uppity” and a snob who probably looks down on regular folks.

White privilege is being able to graduate near the bottom of your college class (McCain), or graduate with a C average from Yale (W.), and that’s OK, and you’re still cut out to be president, but if you’re black and you graduate near the top of your class from Harvard Law, you can’t be trusted to make good decisions in office.

White privilege is being able to dump your first wife after she’s disfigured in a car crash so you can take up with a multi-millionaire beauty queen (who you then go on to call the c-word in public) and still be thought of as a man of strong family values, while if you’re black and married for nearly 20 years to the same woman, your family is viewed as un-American and your gestures of affection for each other are called “terrorist fist bumps.”

White privilege is when you can develop a pain-killer addiction, having obtained your drug of choice illegally like Cindy McCain, go on to beat that addiction, and everyone praises you for being so strong, while being a black guy who smoked pot a few times in college and never became an addict means people will wonder if perhaps you still get high, and even ask whether or not you may have sold drugs at some point.

White privilege is being able to sing a song about bombing Iran and still be viewed as a sober and rational statesman, with the maturity to be president, while being black and suggesting that the U.S. should speak with other nations, even when we have disagreements with them, makes you dangerously naive and immature.

White privilege is being able to say that you hate “gooks” and “will always hate them,” and yet, you aren’t a racist because, ya know, you were a POW, so you’re entitled to your hatred, while being black and noting that black anger about racism is understandable, given the history of your country, makes you a dangerous bigot.

White privilege is being able to claim your experience as a POW has anything at all to do with your fitness for president, while being black and experiencing racism and an absent father is apparently among the “lesser adversities” faced by other politicians, as Sarah Palin explained in her convention speech.

And finally, white privilege is the only thing that could possibly allow someone to become president when he has voted with George W. Bush 90 percent of the time, even as unemployment is skyrocketing, people are losing their homes, inflation is rising, and the U.S. is increasingly isolated from world opinion, just because white voters aren’t sure about that whole “change” thing. Ya know, it’s just too vague and ill-defined, unlike, say, four more years of the same, which is very concrete and certain…?

White privilege is, in short, the problem.