I Feel the Earth Move Under My Feet

Memphis is built on a major fault line, the New Madrid Fault. For decades, we've heard about how The Big One is coming, a major earthquake leading to mayhem and destruction. Fear-based information runs the show, "sells papers" in old-school terms, and ensures a steady viewership in our age of the 24-hr news channels. When I was a kid, we had quake drills in school. We were scared of earthquakes, tornadoes and fires. I lived in Memphis for a cumulative 20 years and never once felt an earthquake.

This week I did.

In northern Virginia.

I was scrapbooking, a hobby I enjoy and very rarely practice, since it involves lots of set-up time and material preparation, leaves a big mess, and therefore involves a lot of clean-up. A rare DONKAH Day (day off, no kids at home) when the house was already some semblance of "clean" and I felt like I could get away with doing something slightly self-indulgent. In retrospect, I realize Quincy the dog was acting unusual. He was planted firmly on my feet under the table. Every five minutes or so, he would get up, walk around the legs on my chair, and sit back down on my feet. After the third time, I assumed he needed to relieve himself and opened the back door. He was not interested in being outside at all; my feet were all he wanted. There was a low-grade rumble. Big truck going by? Low-flying plane (we live close to a major airport)? Quincy was up like a light. I noticed the chandelier swinging madly overhead. My pictures were dancing on the table, pens fell to the floor. I heard a mild crash upstairs.

In a split second, I realized this was an earthquake. I was taken back to Springdale Elementary School, to the sound of our principal's voice on the crackly announcement system. Racking my brain for which type of "cover" to take: stop, drop & roll? Duck and cover in a little pod on the floor against an inside wall? File outside quickly and in an orderly fashion? Door frame--that was it! Low or high in the building? I was in the middle level of our three-story townhouse, so I figured I'd just stay there. I got over to the door frame of the stairs that lead to the lowest level and arched myself in it, hands covering my head.

The once-protective SuperDog was now in the corner of the living room, howling and running in a circle, as if to say, "I tried to warn you, lady, but now that it's here, you're on your own." By the time I got to the door frame, the rumble had stopped, and I felt a bit silly for even taking cover. I looked outside, to see if there was anything damaged outside. Cars still parked as usual, trees blowing lightly in the breeze, sun shining, birds singing. No big gashes in the earth, no screams for help. Perhaps it wasn't an earthquake after all? The movies--and the warnings of my childhood--painted a very scary picture, and this was not it.



A sign of the times: I immediately logged on to see if this was an earthquake and if others felt it. A "breaking news" story, posted 44 seconds before, confirmed it. Facebook posts from local friends confirmed it. I tried to call Peter, who was driving home from Richmond (closer to the epicenter than I), but the cell service wouldn't go through. Too many other curious and perhaps concerned loved ones trying to connect. My Internet connection slowed down, for the same reason, I guess.

Analysis indicates a 5.8 magnitude earthquake, with an epicenter about 80 miles from here and felt all along the eastern seaboard. Government buildings were evacuated and then closed for the rest of the day--and in some cases, for the next day, too, to check for structural damage. The Washington Monument's stones were cracked, the National Cathedral lost some small decorative spires. No one was hurt or killed. People were a little shaken, but all in all, we were 100% fortunate. If you watched the aforementioned 24-hour news channels, you might think this was a tragic event. Sensationalism rules--and sells. I suppose in some ways it was a near-miss. It could've been bad, but it really really wasn't. Locals here joked about the coverage of it. Here's a picture posted on Facebook and accompanied by comments like "8/23/11: we will never forget" and "so sorry for your loss" and "praying for all those affected." Good for a chuckle!



Where were you for the shake, rattle and roll of 2011?

The Other Coast & Some of Our Favorite Peeps

The first week in August, we headed to Oregon! Peter's sister and bro-in-law live there with their fantastic son Travis. The cousins had a blast together. We explored Portland's Saturday Market, ate VooDoo Donuts, played in their pool, watched movies, played in the Oregon Museum of Science and Industry (OMSI), ate yummy salmon, went clamming, tried steamed clams, played in the pool some more, and spent three very relaxing days on the Oregon Coast. Better folks are not to be found than the Dixons. Can't wait to figure out what our next adventure together will be!

Route 12 North!

We packed up the van and headed to the Outer Banks in North Caroline for a week-long, much-needed beach vacation. Our friends from Memphis joined us for a grand total of 6 adults and 8 kids. We had a lovely beach house, within walking distance of both the beach at Corolla and the neighborhood pool. The best part of the schedule was having NO schedule. We'd wake up in the morning, whenever we wanted to, and the kids would ask "What are we doing today?" My gleeful reply? "I don't know!" "When are we going to the beach?" "As soon as your flip flops are on!" The kiddos played in the sand and the waves all morning and in the pool after lunch. We played board games and watched movies. We climbed lighthouses, explored salt-water marshes, drove the length of Route 12 to the south, enjoyed the aquarium, played pirates on a ship, learned how the earliest European settlers lived, went parasailing (me) and sailing (Pete and girls). We grilled out and ate out, had tilefish caught that very day and blue cupcakes for the 4th of July. Good stuff. Good, good stuff.

Pictures here!

Steppin' Out With My Baby

Peter and I decided to try to schedule some one-on-one time with each of the kids. When there are 3 kids and 2 working parents, life gets hectic sometimes and spending quality time with our ever-growing daughters becomes more and more difficult. When my dad started plotting a trip to Buffalo, NY, to see Navy ships similar to the one my grandfather served on in WWII, we figured this was a weekend trip we could take one daughter on. There would be time in the car to really connect, to listen to her. Initially, Peter planned to go, to take Rebecca, but his work schedule interfered, so I signed up to take his place. Dad and Rebecca and I stopped in Pittsburgh for a Pirates game versus our beloved Red Sox (the crowd was about 50-50 for each team!), then drove on to Buffalo to tour the ships.

We met up with various DC-area Walshes, my cousins and their children, and my Uncle Bailey, for a whirlwind summer adventure. Dad had transcribed and copied some of the many letters my Papa had written to his wife and children while he was on board. A banker by training, older than many other drafted soldiers, and a gentle man by nature, Papa's beautiful letters illustrate his mixed emotions about proudly serving his country while pining for his family back in Tennessee. It was wonderful to walk on a ship just like his, to imagine this man penning words of love and duty day in and day out. Rebecca seemed to really relish this experience, showing genuine interest in the parts of the ship and drinking in the one-on-one attention, walking hand-in-hand with Papa and talking more than usual with no other siblings to steal her thunder.





After our day in Buffalo, we drove up to Niagara Falls. I don't even need to describe this place in words, just look at the pictures.





Rounding out our weekend, Rebecca and I made the trip home alone. We drove for several hours, listening to music, talking about school and friends, the past and the future. Reading Papa's letters prompted Rebecca to ask about war, about love, and about my own childhood memories, especially those of Papa himself. She fell asleep about 2 hours from home, and in the silence, I thanked God for the opportunity to be TRULY WITH my daughter, to teach her and to learn from her. Good stuff.

End of Another Era

Well, maybe not "era," but school year. Various events in May and early June signaled the end of the regular year. Both Molly and Rebecca had end-of-the-year school parties. Rebecca's girl scout troop "bridged" to Brownies, and she earned her orange belt in karate. Molly ended her ice skating lessons, now qualifying for Level 4. And Amelia moved from preschool 2 to Pre-K in a spectacularly cute program for parents.

U2. True Love.

Bono is my boyfriend. It's quite lovely of my husband to allow me to drool over this rock star/activist who is admitedly old enough to be my father. He is yummy, and the U2 concert in Baltimore at M&T Stadium--where the Ravens play--was truly a spiritual experience. I sang, I cried, I gasped, I laughed, I was in awe. And so were all the people around us. Even my husband.

Ding-dong, the Witch is dead...

I interrupt this cheerful family-centered blog to bring you my thoughts on this historic event: Osama bin Laden is dead.

Those who know me are well aware that I have liberal political leanings. Let's get that out of the way, in the interest of full disclosure.

Like everyone born after 1990, I remember very clearly where I was on September 11, 2001. I was two months away from giving birth to my first child, watching the Today Show at my house in Connecticut, out of graduate school classes for the day. I cried, I was angry, I knew life would never be the same, I was afraid I'd never feel safe again, and I cringed to think that my child would never know a world without the after-effects of that day. When President Bush announced the US military was headed into Afghanistan to find and kill the mastermind of this attack, I was not wholly unopposed. My pacifism started to waver. Just war. Not "just" war, but A Just War. Maybe?

It's been nearly 10 years, and just this evening, President Obama announced that we--the US military, acting on information from the US intelligence community and under orders from the Commander in Chief--found and killed Osama bin Laden. Finally! But did I do the Happy Dance? I did not. Because killing is, for lack of a better word, crappy. It doesn't feel GOOD. I do think bin Laden deserved to die. Frankly, it's not even a tough call for me to say that, but I am conflicted because I think it SHOULD be a tough call for me to say that.

A state-sanctioned/ordered death, even in a military context, is akin to the death penalty. I'm opposed to the death penalty for a few pretty basic reasons. Justice, as carried out by human beings, is imperfect. Judges and juries make mistakes. People who should be punished aren't and innocent people are sometimes punished when they should not be. It is primarily for this reason that I oppose the death penalty. You can't undo it if you discover later that you've made an error. According to some sources, it's happened at least 39 times--that we know of--in recent US history, no doubt countless more times the world over. Not to mention all the people we've freed after years in prison when we realized our mistake before we got to the execution day (130 since the mid-1970s, 10 in 2010 alone). Second, we've proven over and over again that the death penalty is not a deterrent. People don't avoid committing capital crimes because they're afraid of being killed by the State. We don't execute people publicly or swiftly (that whole due process thing, protected by the Constitution), so it's a no-go. Finally, I believe in Jesus Christ and try hard to follow his teachings, and he was super clear about the whole killing thing. Don't do it.

That's one angel on my shoulder.

Then there's the other one, reminding me how I felt on and after 9/11, showing me the images of those who lost their lives that day, gently giving voice to US soldiers who've died fighting this guy and his minions, giving voice to the soldiers' families, telling me again about the people in Afghanistan whose lives have been destroyed by this war we're waging, all because of Osama bin Laden. This angel on my shoulder wants me to remember my anger and to feel justified that someone (my country) acted on it.

Osama bin Laden was 100% guilty. There is no doubt he committed the crimes. The thousands who died in attacks he ordered, the thousands who died defending him and his movement, the thousands who died fighting him and his movement, and the thousands who die not fighting at all, but just trying to survive in the war-ravaged lands he inhabited: the blood of all these people is on his hands. So my first argument doesn't hold water. There could be no error.

However, my second argument still stands. Nothing about killing bin Laden will stop the killing that his rantings have spawned. Extremists and terrorists still thrive and may well be empowered by bin Laden's death, to become more active. So penalizing bin Laden with death doesn't stop anything.

And my third argument still stands. Jesus taught us to love our enemies, to turn the other cheek, to disregard the "eye-for-an-eye" commandment. Revenge is not a Christian tenet, though justice is. He was VERY clear. Love one another.

So I'm one-for-three. I feel a little alone as I fail to celebrate and update my Facebook status with four exclamation points.

Osama bin Laden was evil. I'm not sad that he's dead. But the jubilant atmosphere in the Washington and New York streets tonight feels wrong. I can't find a way to love Osama, as Jesus commanded, but I just can't bring myself to rejoice in the death of another person, no matter how inhuman he seemed. Hopefully, those who have lost loved ones or livelihood because of this man can find some closure and peace in knowing he is dead. The soldiers who have fought and died trying to find him--or supporting the mission to find him--deserve our gratitude and our support, as do their families. I can acknowledge the historical significance of this day, but don't ask me to celebrate it.

The pundits on the 24-hour news networks and the wanna-be pundits on Facebook and Twitter will spin this every which way. Who deserves the credit and who doesn't deserve the credit? What will happen in Afghanistan and Pakistan now? Are we safer? Are we in more danger? Who is the bad guy now? Not many people will stop to wonder if killing bin Laden was the right thing to do from a political, military, or ethical standpoint. I'm conflicted--I wanted him to be dead, but I don't feel good about wanting that.

I'd love some civilized feedback. Bring it, y'all...