Bush Tours America To Survey Damage Caused By His Disastrous Presidency

Bush Tours America To Survey Damage Caused By His Disastrous Presidency

I typically prefer to write my own assessment of the Bush administration, but for some time now I just haven't had it in me.

Although I prefer this blog to be more than clips I am mined from other sites, when I found this in depth, insightful and well researched news clip, I had to post it here.

Hopefully it will inspire me to come up with something original to write.

(They are at it again!)

MONEY DOWN THE SHITTER

Last night after work Fettit and I were discussing finances and he took from his pocket $400 in various denominations and placed it on the coffee table. We then went out for drinks and dinner at our favorite Mexican cantina.

When we returned home our friends Steven and Josh (you may remember them from videos) were waiting for us for an evening dip in the pool.

We talked and laughed in the pool, as we always do ,and finally Fettit got tired and went to bed. Steven, Josh and I stayed in for another 30 minutes or so before getting out.

After I finished drying myself I entered the darkened house and stepped on a piece of paper so I leaned over and picked it up and was instantly mortified.

I hadn't stepped on a random piece of paper, it was half of a $5 bill and as I looked around there was more money on the floor.

I must have let out a sound of anguish or something because Steven and Josh opened the door and inquired why I had yelled so I pointed to the money covered floor and explained to them that $400 of the mortgage was ripped up on the floor.

While we were enjoying ourselves in the pool our obnoxious steel-gutted puppy had had a field-day.

The three of us then scoured the house for pieces and remnants of 100s, 50s, 20s, 10s and 5s.

In the end I found a $100 bill completely intact and various pieces of other bills cut in half or thirds that I was able to match together; however, the total of all the salvageable bills was only $125.

There are missing halves of another $75 and two $100 bills were missing completely.

Steven and Josh left shaking their heads and laughing their asses off. I on the other hand was terrified because I knew Fettit would wake up in the morning and I would have to tell him what Kitty (the puppy) had done.

An hour or so ago I got up and went into the house and found Fettit and broke the news of our disappearing mortgage payment.

At first he wanted to kill Kitty but cooler heads prevailed and now he is making jokes about it.

And now we wait...

Happy Damn Birthday Donna Jean

Click to Play

It is July 7th over in Iraq and it is Fettit's sister Donna's birthday.  She is currently serving in Iraq and so we put together this video to put a smile on her face and let her know we are thinking of her.

July 4th Rantings

Happy July 4th everyone. I’m off for five days and am enjoying the break.

I’ve been off for two days and spent yesterday morning preparing for the annual 4th of July party that Fettit throws. I’m usually out of town on this weekend so I am never a part of the festivities in the house.

This year we discussed going to Michigan for the week but after my disastrous travels over Memorial weekend I was not too keen on traveling again anytime soon. I regretted that decision two weeks ago and attempted to make arrangements but it was too late.

I checked flights everywhere, New York, Boston, Philadelphia, Chicago, San Francisco, and Rapid City. Nothing was reasonable. That is my own fault.

Instead I resigned myself to five days in the heat and the possibility of getting to the many chores around the house that have been neglected for far too long. The garage needs to be gone through, and organized, and many of my belonging need to be integrated into the house. There is also the linen closet that needs to be completed since the remodel a year and a half ago. The storage room that was created when he added onto the back of the house is in complete disarray and I thought maybe I would get to organizing that as well.

So far all I have done is work to make yesterdays party a success – I guess I have accomplished something and there is still three days to go.

Yesterday I woke up early and was at the grocery story by 7am. On my way out the door Fettit handed me $40 and said not to go overboard, as we often do.

The bill at the market was $300 but I didn’t go overboard. Dog food and booze costs more today.

Green onions were always three for a dollar and now they are 79 cents a bunch. It’s cheaper to be a drunk than chubby with bad breath.

I have also been trying to plan a cross country trip for my CW who lives in New Jersey.

At sixty something, she was laid off from her job and prior to returning to work she wants to drive out to Arizona, sight seeing along the way and then returning a different route to see more.

I have planned to travel with her on a portion of cross-country excursion because last summer she was cheated out of part of our trip thanks to American Airlines. She was supposed to join us in Denver on Thursday of the July 4th weekend and continue on to the Black Hills and Yellowstone.

Sydney, my niece did get to Mount Rushmore and Rapid City, SD, a place from my past that for some reason means a lot to me, but CW had to join us two days later – flying into Sheridan, WY.

Unfortunately she wasn’t able to see our greatest monument – Mt Rushmore. It is something I think every American should experience at least once in their lifetime.

I feel drawn there every few years. The Black Hills call to me each summer, just as Michigan does, but yet I only have gotten there every 10 years or so since leaving there in 1978.

I have wanted to share it with CW, actually many people for several years now, but haven’t been able to get there as often as I like, and others have not understood the importance.

Two days ago I started to plan CW’s trip and it made me question the idea of a cross country trip, at this time of inflated gasoline prices. I think it is the wrong time for her drive across the country and fulfill her dreams of seeing this great and vast country.

I priced it out and I think the gas for her car will be roughly $1100. Absurd - I hope King George’s friends can sleep at night knowing they have fucked up our economy, as well as many dreams - for many years to come.

I will talk with CW in the next couple of days and break the news to her that it is more financially sound for her to fly to Phoenix and rent a car for a month – but she won’t see anything new.

The party yesterday was a great success. Plenty of food, without going overboard, the pool and new pool barn, were perfect. The kids and adorable Noelle were here, as were the Wiley-Conforti’s – whose friendship were treasure. Eydie came with Robert and the girls, our adopted son, Aaron, arrived very late because he couldn’t pull himself away for his video games, and Lucy showed up late but better than not showing at all.

There were others, friend and friends of friends, including my new friend Jesus (not that one) who I had to take to work at 5.

Overall it was a great day – a long day but not too hectic and I was able to relax and enjoy myself.

I also got a few very welcome text messages and phone calls from my friends. I was actually able to spend 30 minutes talking on the phone with my Canadian Angel. I wasn’t able to connect with all those I was thinking of, but they were in my thoughts and heart.

The food was good, the conversations and laughter very typical, but the low point for many was probably the music.

My friends don’t appreciate my music, and I am very eclectic in my selection but I don’t have my ipod arranged with play lists for different moods and occasions.

Whether it be too many show tunes, or Queen Barbra, or maybe the Tammy Wynette of yesterday, there my song selections don’t please everyone, but there isn’t a single song on my ipod I don’t enjoy - for various reasons - but it doesn’t necessarily appeal to all, or even most.

That isn’t to say there isn’t a little something for everyone. The artists run from Barbra – who really isn’t as represented as one would think - Broadway, Elton, The Eagles, Wynonna, most of the major CWs like Diana, Gladys, and Tina, and even the new ones like Mary J and Angie Stone. There may even be a few Madonna, Janet, Norah Jones and John Mayer and JT, along with classic Michael Jackson. No one seems to appreciate my eclectic tastes.

I am now sitting under the pool barn (the patio covering my son-in-law Jon designed and built). We returned home from our friend’s (Michael) house where he had a bbq/pool party this late afternoon, early evening. We had a good time, but there is nothing like being home, sitting outside late at night, listening to the waterfall and not listening to the high pitch babble of a self absorbed, token straight girl.

If I want to endure self absorbed rantings I will talk to myself or await the arrival of ISM, who called me tonight, as I was arriving at Michael’s party, with some disturbing family news.

People and families are fucked up!

I usually don’t understand them. Even those that are suppose to be close, whom I love and share blood, but are as much strangers as those I hand money to on the street corners.

I thought the bad times brought families closer together.

We have always circled the wagons when times have gotten rough, but if I really think about it, the family hasn’t banded together for a common cause in far too many years.

It is always the ISM and me and those effected.

I don’t get it. We all share the same experiences, perhaps from difference perspectives, but we are a family. Disjointed and dysfunctional, we were always there in times of need.

It’s always been an illusion, like so much else, and disappointing.

We are given what we are given and it is how we accept it, respond to it, cope with it, and grow from it.

I sit here now, the music blaring, Ed at my feet, and I’m listening to the “Good Lord Works in Mysterious Ways” from The Color Purple, and I know it is true. The Good Lord works in mysterious ways.

I always acknowledge my blessings, and tonight is no different.

So much for a cohesive thought tonight. I have truly lived up to “Rantings from 2288 Beckley Rd.”

SYNCHRONICITY

In 1993 I purchased a book entitled “Healing Words –The Power of Prayer and the Practice of Medicine” by Dr. Larry Dossey. Something around that time, and I cannot recall precisely what it was, prompted me to purchase the book.

Thinking back I initially thought it may have been the death of my grandfather. He suffered a massive stroke, followed by a year of recovery, and then an eventual heart attack, around that time.

More than likely it was me looking for answers during the illness of my friend Steve Budd. Steve was diagnosed with HIV/AIDS in February 1990 and his illness and eventual death changed my life in profound ways.

Steve’s diagnosis propelled me into a new and exciting pursuit of answers of many kinds, some spiritual but mostly academic, and unwittingly his passing lead me a newfound focus on my career and a reconnection with my children - who had long been estranged.

Recently I have been thinking about “Healing Words” and also “The Celestine Prophecy” by James Redfield. Why these two books, I don’t know, but somehow the two are linked in my mind – perhaps it has to do with the questions behind the power of energies and prayer and other mysteries I do not understand.

In 1995, when I read “The Celestine Prophecy,” I initially thought it was meant to be non-fiction. It wasn’t until the very end that I realized it was definitely a work of fiction; however, it fed into and confirmed, my unfounded belief in coincidence, and consciousness, and that there are immeasurable powers, like energy fields - similar to sound-waves, that humans are not able to identify, comprehend or harness, and yet one day these too will be measurable and eventually controllable.

Only randomly have I given much time to the school of thought surrounding personal energies, prayer, coincidence, and ultimately destiny. In truth I rarely think that deep; however, innately I do have a belief in the unknown and esoteric.

The “Nine Insights” or at least, several of the insights, from “The Celestine Prophecy” fit well into my way of thinking regarding these mysterious. I believe we know far less about the universe than we think we are capable of knowing – meaning the amount of knowledge we currently have could fit on the head of a pin compared to the cosmos-full of exciting and profound ideas yet to be uncovered.

I recall around the same time (give or take a few years) that I was reading “The Celestine Prophecy, I heard Maya Angelou speak about powers we are unable to understand and that one day in the future we would discover, for lack of a better term, and I am paraphrasing, a “barometer” that we will measure the energies radiating from us. As I recall she specifically was talking about a “love force” that would be measurable – like a Geiger counter and radioactivity.

And why not?

Less than a thousand years ago people believed the world was flat. Inventions like the television, or even electricity were unfathomable, and who ever thought human beings who orbit the earth or land on the moon.

Each generation has discovered new frontiers previously thought to be undiscoverable; therefore, it stands to reason that there are sciences yet to be realized – the power of prayer, the struggle and transference of positive and negative energy, and the understanding of intuitiveness, coincidence, and synchronicity.

This morning I woke up thinking about my father and his brief, but ongoing, ordeal with colon cancer. Lying in bed I was reflecting upon, and appreciating, the love and support I have received from friends and coworkers as I cope with the situation.

After starting the morning coffee and letting the dogs out in the yard, I was unconsciously and uncontrollably compelled to comb my bookshelves looking for “Healing Words.” It sounds strange, but I was drawn or lead to this book, and when I found it and opened the front cover, a piece of paper fell out of it.

I leaned over to pick it up and instantly recognized my grandmother’s distinctively ornate handwriting.

Several of the books I own came from my grandmother, but as I stated earlier, I purchased “Healing Words.” I do not recall her ever seeing it in my house or ever asking to read it, and yet there concealed within it’s page was her handwritten note, and when I read it I could hear her voice as clear as if she was sitting next to me.

Written on a notepad that said “Warning – This fridge does not contain the following…” my grandmother wrote:

Chris – I’m so glad you had children. As long as they have children our blood line keeps us alive. When the blood stops, we die out.”

Grandma’s voice is never far from me. I talk about her daily to Fettit, just as I do with other family members, even though she has been gone for four years, but this is different. This is a note she wrote to me with the intention of me finding it one day – today.

I find it peculiar that not only have I been thinking about and was drawn to “Healing Words,” but also to “The Celestine Prophecy, and something this morning told me to read the “Nine Insights” again.

The Seventh Insight is “Engaging the Flow” and it reads “Knowing our personal mission further enhances the flow of mysterious coincidences as we are guided toward our destinies. First we have a question; then dreams, daydreams, and intuitions lead us towards the answers, which usually are synchronistically provided by the wisdom of another human being.

I know these words come from a book of fiction, and although I rarely acknowledge my belief, fundamentally, I believe in the insightfulness of their intent.

Why for two weeks, since I was told about Dad's cancer, have I had thoughts of these two books and what led me to them this morning? Synchronicity?

Grandma’s only child, the most important person in her life, the person she lived for, is lying in a hospital bed, recuperating from a surgery that removed a plum-sized malignant tumor from his colon. He has a legion and a spot on his liver, and although his future is brighter than it was two days ago, his prognosis is a mystery.

What is grandma telling me?

… As long as they have children our blood line keeps us alive. When the blood stops, we die out…

R CONNECTIONS

In early May I traveled to New York to visit my friend Matt, see some Broadway shows, and meet and spend time with an incredible group of people - the Rbloggers.

The Rbloggers are an online cult I have belonged to for nearly a year. We aren't really a cult but I have friends call us one.

Its a group of people who were brought together through Rosie O'Donnell's 2007 summer photos post.

The weekend was a smashing success and when I returned to my real life in Phoenix a very generous member of the group offered to make a photograpy book to celebrate and honor the weekend, and much to my surprise, he asked me to write the forward.

I was, and still am, overwhelmingly honored and grateful for the opportunity to put my words against the photographs taken by this wonderful group of people I now call friends.

What follows is the forward I wrote and the link to the book which can be viewed and purchased online.

Words, especially mine, are hardly necessary for a collection such as this. The photographs capture the true essence of what was a once in a lifetime event. They clearly speak for themselves - showing the genuine affection and friendship the Rbloggers have mined for one another along with the admiration, respect, and love for the one who brought us together

In the period of less than a year the term Rblogger has evolved, just as the relationships in the group have evolved and grown. In the beginning each member was a stranger-friend, but over the course of time, and culminating with the No No Nanette weekend, Rblogger has become synonymous with friend.

Each relationship is individual and attempting to speak for so many is impossible, so I will have to speak for myself.

I cherish, love, and depend upon so many of the Rbloggers. In my own way I cheer through the triumphs and empathize through the hardships, and in the end, individually and together, we continue to persevere – through many incarnations of the Rblogger name.

Last fall when it was announced that Rosie O’Donnell would briefly return to the New York stage in the City Centers Encores! No No Nanette, several of the Rbloggers decided it was a fitting time to unite in one place and celebrate our newfound friendship, as well as the woman who brought us together.

On May 9, 2008 it all became reality. The curtain lifted and anonymity and shielded personas gave way as the Rbloggers met face-to-face.

Under a predominately gray and gloomy New York City sky, in the shadows of towering steel and stone, long-time stranger-friends confirmed their affections, and life long memories were made and burgeoning friendships validated.

Looking through these photographs reminds me of what a magical weekend it was. People who have held me captive for nearly a year with their photographs, words and exposed truths, instantly became life-long friends. Time stood still as we celebrated our first en mass convergence, while sadly reminded of those unable to attend.

I arrived in New York without expectation but left with a newfound admiration and love for so many. What could have been awkward and uncomfortable instantaneously felt natural and organic.

Friday night after filing out of the theater, onto a crowded and wet New York sidewalk, I was greeted with shouts and smiles from across the street - the welcoming sounds of that half soaked assemblage still ring in my ears – and with the help of these photographs, time stands still and I am carried down the street towards a new found familiarity and closeness.

Rosie O’Donnell may have been the initial motivation for us to travel from our homes to New York, but the reason was clearly Rblogger-centered, however, I would be remiss if I did not give a special thank you to the inimitable Rosie, whose infectiously generous spirit and heartfelt sincerity unknowingly brought together a unique collection of people, from far away and all walks of life, to share in a remarkable experience that will forever live in our hearts and be replayed in the movie in our minds.

Thank you Rosie!

Chris Willi
(Gpawilli)

Click Here to View the R Connections Book

LOSE WEIGHT TODAY

Diet Book Author Advocates New 'No Food Diet'

Over the past few weeks I have lost 25 lbs and several people have inquired about how I was able to do it. I have been reluctant to share my secret but started thinking it wasn't fair to keep it a secret. I feel so good I want to shout it from the rooftop.

If it can work for me it can also work for you.

For those fighting, and losing, the battle of the bulge there was a new book published recently to help you watch (and count) hidden calories. It is called "Don't Eat Your Desk, by Alana Brixton-Bramby

I know I should have been more forthcoming with my new found secret diet, but Fettit asked me not to share it with the world. He doesn't know I am letting the cat out of the bag so please, don't let on to him.

This diet has transformed me and it can do the same for you.

Wigs, Wine and Wilderness

Click to Play

Memeorial Day weekend started out as a nightmare.

After sitting on an airplane for far too long and waiting around LAX overnight I arrived in New York's JFK airport 15 hours late.  I took a car over to Matt's apartment and then we drove north to Woodstock to celebrate Dean's 40th birthday. 

Trying to get back to Phoenix was just as eventful.

Wigs, Wine and Winderness - Wonderful

ENCOURAGING AN AMERICAN IDOL

Tomorrow night at this time a new American Idol will be announced and although it isn't as important as the election of a new president, another of my favorite subjects, it is fun and a big deal in television land - and I am calling the competition in favor of David Archuleta, but it represents more than a talent competition.

For me, David represents all the hopes and dreams of every talented young man and woman with a dream. Whether the desire is to be the greatest new singing discovery in the country, a phemon basketball player, or the countries next great scientist, watching his rise to prominence reminds me of my younger self - filled with hopes, dreams and aspirations.

When he walks on the stage and opens his mouth to sing I am reminded of another starry-eyed talented young man who was never encouraged, nor discouraged, who lacked the requisite drive and confidence to achieve such heights, and the flood gates are opened, flashing back to what might have been.

Much has been said and written regarding David's ever present father, calling him a svengali monster who wheedles and controls his son's every move, but he is no different then the millions of fathers who push and belittle their sons during little league or high school football?

Being interested and invested in the success of your child, even if it occasionally crosses the line, increases a child's confidence and is worlds better than indifference and apathy.

My personal American idol, Barbra Streisand, has credited her mother's indifference and lack of encouragement with pushing her to achieve her successes, but I think that it is evident by the reputation many hold of her, that regardless of her mother's apathy, she possesses a strong sense of self and an innate will and drive and would have been as hugely successful

Most children are not as lucky as Miss Streisand. They don't inherently understand their power and talent, and many aren't nurtured and encouraged, at home or school, and therefore their talent goes unchecked and unnoticed.

I never understood the importance of sports until I got older, but now I recognize the innumerable benefits. Among others attributes, athletics, as well as many other competitive activities, boost a child's confidence and instill an understanding of team work, as well as help with goal setting and pushing limits.

I was not especially athletic, although I could hold my own on a tennis court, but it was not compulsory for me to engage in athletic endeavors. I didn't have parents who pushed me to excel musically, academically, or athletically.

At home, my school grades were never much of a topic of conversation. I coasted through school with average grades, excelling in the subjects that fit my interests and ignoring, or barely passing, those that I found arduous.

I always knew I was loved, but whether because of apathy, neglect, indifference or absence, no one ever sat me down or showed interest. Unlike David Archuleta, no once pushed, encouraged, demanded or berated me in any direction.

This reminds me though of an amusing story...

When I was younger, maybe 17, my grandmother wrote me a letter, one I think I still have to this day, or at least I hope I do, and in the letter tells me if I worked hard someday I could be the president of the United States. She also wrote that I would probably have to run against the Kennedy boy (John-John) but that she believed I could beat him.

One of the ironic aspects of that story is that although my family believed in the successes that came from hard work, there was never a roadmap of how to achieve accomplishment – whether it was in the form of education or the encouragement to develop any particular talent.

Working long and difficult shifts at a factory can feed and clothe a family, and even lead one to being comfortable in life, but it can’t lead to greatness or the presidency.

How did they, or grandma in this instance, think that I would achieve greatness? By working at Kellogg’s? From factory worker to president in an instant.

There was never a genuine discussion about my future, and the hollow encouragement I received didn't lead to the presidency, or a recording studio or a contagious disease lab. I deeply love my family but I am stupefied by what they thought me and my siblings would realistically do with our lives.

Experiencing this made me realize that parents need to explore, encourage, push, and even demand, the most from their children. When a child whines about having to read a book, write a thank you note, swim a lap, or play the flute, it is a parent's job to find a way to hearten, stimulate, persuade, or cajole.

I applaud the support, encouragement and the rumored authoritative stand David Archuleta’s dad has taken. It is obvious he is proud of his son, values his talent, and has striven to help him achieve his success.

In my estimation, anything less is neglect!

HAPPY 24TH ANTIVERSARY FETTIT

Today is a significant day.

Twenty-four years ago today Fettit and I met and began our life together. I was a staff sergeant in the Air Force stationed at K I Sawyer Air Force Base, and newly separated from my wife, and Fettit was just finishing up his junior year at Northern Michigan University in Marquette, MI, a small college town situated on the shores of the big lake they call Gitche Gumee - Lake Superior.

We were children then - although I had children - I was not quite 23 years old and Fettit was just shy of his 21st birthday.

Our relationship has seen many incarnations in those years - from lover to friend to brother and partner. Partner, not in the typical sense, but I guess we have created an entirely new stratum.

We are lovers who lived as a couple for almost five years and then went on with our lives - others came and went but never stuck - but we continually stayed in contact, even through all of his breakups and my relocations, to reunite as friends and brothers off and on throughout the years. Today we have lived as non-sexual partners for over four years.

We live a life dedicated to each other without the customary obligations of coupling (never again). We love and are committed to each other and live our lives in a distinctively original style that society does not have a classification.

Today signifies a celebration of longevity without the societally mandated constraints and entanglements of being a committed couple.

That is why calling today our anniversary is inaccurate, and tonight while at dinner the Wiley-Conforti's coined a new term - Antiversary.

But we are a family, and my now grown children jokingly refer to Fettit as their Step Mommy on occasion(that is an entirely separate entry), and he is most assuredly one of Noelle's favorite people - she loves her Papa.

Fettit has been a member of my family since day one, included in all family celebrations and activities - well there was the unfortunate incident when my mother called him the little princess - but that was years ago - and he is embraced and acknowledged as an embedded part of our immediate tribe.

We will receive no cards or gifts for our milestone, but in my heart, and hopefully in Fettit's, there is an understanding of love and acceptance, and gratitude for the deication and perseverance, and most assuredly patience, in getting us to this point.

I have been blessed to have found someone who constantly makes me laugh, and by constant I mean endless and continuous, persistently keeps me on my toes, and who unequivocally loves my granddaughter and children, as only he can do.

Oh, and have I mentioned, he cooks like no bodies business!

Happy Antiversary Fettit - Breth-A-Whip!

RBLOGGERS IN NEW YORK

Rosie O'Donnell's Rbloggers converged on the Big Apple this weekend to attend the City Center Encores' toe tapping version of No, No, Nanette.

From FAO Schwartz to the West Village and Joe Allen's to Central Park, Rbloggers were seen in every part of the island sporting their PEACE and LOVE t-shirts.

Traveling from throughout the country, this eclectic group of men and women, who share an admiration for Rosie O'Donnell, spent the weekend rubbing elbows with the likes of television's Sharon Gless and Frank Langela, not to mention O'Donnell herself, who hosted a meet and greet immediately after the curtain fell on Satuday night.

Welcomed by cheers and tears, O'Donnell took time to chat and sign autographs with each Rblogger, and even passed out backpacks filled with some of Rosie's favorite things.

THE GREAT AND POWERFUL CHRIS MADE AN APPERANCE

WTF DID PEOPLE THINK? I WOULD RIDE INTO TOWN ON MY WHITE HORSE?

I never claimed to be perfect, but then I am not YOU!

There were times when I thought I wasn't as good as I could be, but then I realized I was better than many, and that although not perfect, my life hasn't been filled with hatred and contempt.

In the end I succeed because I am fair and open and forthright and don't make up history. I DON'T NEED TO - I LIVED IT!

FOR TONY CAPRA - MARCH 14, 1977 - APRIL 9, 2007

DINING WITH THE OLIGARCHY by Christine Ebersole

I am lifting this for www.christineebersole.com/blog. I hope she doesn't mind... I am crediting her, so why would she, right? Or more like it, she won't even know.

Besides being a wonderful singer/actress she is a thinker. There is so much going on in this country and world and most of us are oblivious; too busy working and following our mundane life's journey.

Please read:
I was late to lunch. Having gone round and round in midtown traffic, I was in desperate search of a parking structure near La Grenouille on 52nd street. I was (illegally) talking on my cell phone whining about this high-class dilemma to a Los Angeles based friend, who tried to offer help by proclaiming “They must have valet parking!” It gave me pause; would La Grenouille even open the door to my 1993 Volvo station wagon, let alone park it? Eventually I stumbled upon an underground lot a block away, and arrived forty-five minutes late; an actor, starving, in hopes of at this point, a mere cup of coffee to relieve my pounding head.

I was seated next to my dear friend Dina Merrill, who’s husband Ted Hartley had invited me to this occasion. I first met Dina 32 years ago working in a Broadway play called “Angel Street” in which she was the Star. Those heady days left such fond memories for me. I was planting my feet on a Broadway stage for the first time in my life…a dream fulfilled, and it was “Angel Street” that got me my Equity union card. (The Producer Shepard Traube purchased it for me for $300.00) Because my professional theatrical experience was nil, the publicist, exercising creative license, filled my Playbill bio with credits like “She was a child prodigy on the violin.” My time in that play was brief, and it was particularly humbling to me because it was book-ended by my job as a waitress at the now defunct Lion’s Rock restaurant on East 77th street. Lion’s Rock, Broadway Stage, Lion’s Rock. I was thrilled to work with Dina, and I’m grateful that we are friends in this giant theatrical family.

Seated to the right of me was a familiar looking gentleman I recognized from a dinner party at Dina and Ted’s home last summer in East Hampton. Dina, always the Queen of graciousness, introduced me to everyone at the table, and in true actor’s form, I was thrilled that in spite of my tardiness, I was just in time for the meal.

As the endive and pear salad was put before me, I began chatting with the handsome man “on the right”. He told me that he had just come from attending a Barack Obama hullabaloo at Cooper Union. He noted that it was at Cooper Union where Illinois’ own Abraham Lincoln had spoken, and now Barack was Illinois’ own.(Of course my barking ego hammered; am I Illinois’ own too, being an entertainer from Winnetka?) He went on to say how he was impressed by Barack’s economic strategy. He thought that the presidential candidate showed true leadership and if he did become President, he would with great resolve deliver us from the dire economic mess we’re currently in. Matching his enthusiasm, I asked, “Well, did he propose abolishing the Federal Reserve and their stalwart collection agency, the IRS?” After a mutual chuckle,(well, I chuckled, he sort of half- smiled) I went on to proclaim that it was the very same Abraham Lincoln who declared that only the Government should issue Legal Tender, matched in Gold and Silver from its treasury. It was never the intention of our founding Fathers to borrow money with interest from a Private Banking Cartel like the Federal Reserve. I went on to say that this Central Bank that controls and manipulates the market, keeps printing more money which drives up inflation, and since we got rid of the gold standard in ‘71 we might as well start using the colorful paper from our Monopoly game to see how far that gets us, since the current value of the dollar and the money in the Parker Brother’s game are just about equal.

It was at this point I remembered who it was I was talking to. The “man on the right” was none other than Bill Donaldson, former Chairman of the Securities and Exchange Commission appointed by George W. Bush in 2003, after the previous Chairman left under a cloud. Prior to that, at one point in his illustrious career, Bill was even Chairman of the New York Stock Exchange,(the rest of his impressive resume, I would find out after lunch when I was free to Google him). A revelation of this stature prompted me to qualify my prior speech about the value of the dollar by placing my hand on his shoulder and proclaiming, “But you know that!”

The day before, when the news broke that Brad Pitt was related to Barack Obama, I decided to do a little digging and connect the dots of my own family’s history. The Ebersole’s claim to fame through the bloodline on my father’s side was a man named Elihu Root, a Nobel Prize winning Lawyer and Statesman, who worked as Secretary of State and Secretary of War under McKinley and Teddy Roosevelt. (My grandfather’s name was Amos Root Ebersole…I figured we were the poor relations, as the Root/Ebersoles I knew of were German Mennonite farmers from Pennsylvania) I brought this bit of news up to Bill, partly because Elihu Root defended the 16th amendment,(the Federal tax) and he was a New York senator when a few powerful Wall Street Financiers, Bankers and Government big wigs created the Federal Reserve in 1913. “The sixteenth amendment was never ratified!” I chimed, “the Federal tax is un-constitutional! …but you know that! (He knew of Elihu Root, but didn’t know that the ratifying of the 16th amendment was unofficially fraudulent.)

Genealogical sidebar aside, Barack remained on the front burner of our discussion. Like the cat out of the bag, or a horse out of the barn, my political passion ensued with engine speed. I went on to say that Barack, as charismatic and articulate as he appeared, was essentially bought and sold. Like every presidential candidate Democrat or Republican, with the exception of the marginalized Ron Paul, Dennis Kucinich and Mike Gravel, Barack Obama has a powerful connection with the Council on Foreign Relations. Even though this private, organization states that it is non-partisan, and “dedicated to improving the understanding of U.S. foreign policy and international affairs through the free and civil exchange of ideas”, behind the curtain of this secret group is the CFR’s loyalty to the New World Order, or one World Government, run by (its primary allegiance) a Central World Bank. George H.W.”Poppy” Bush, talked about the New World Order on September 11, 1991(you-tube, look it up)shortly after the Bush family was implicated in the Savings and Loan scandal that cost the taxpayers 1.4 trillion dollars. Bill Clinton talked about the New World Order during his Presidency, and Barack Obama talked about it in 2007 in a speech in Chicago. Obama’s biggest supporter is Zbigniew Brzezinski, one of the architects of the Trilateral Commission, and a member of The Council on Foreign Relations. In his pursuit of US-UK World domination, Brzezinski knows that Obama will give a face-lift to US Imperialism, as we move stealth-like, to an increasingly debt ridden world of servitude. “You don’t need Armies and tanks”, I chirped, “all you need is debt. Debt is slavery!”

The Council on Foreign Relations‘ commitment to this Central Bank and its increasing power in the reordering of the world’s economy, spells the end of United States Sovereignty. We are joining with Canada and Mexico to form the North American Union, the dollar will be replaced by the “amero”, and we have the “Real ID” merrily headed our way under the banner of “security and safety”.

At this point Mr. Donaldson looked at me and simply stated, ” Your thoughts are mind-boggling!”. As we both laughed, I felt a strange silent acknowledgement of the inevitable; all I could repeat was the mantra to this former Government/Wall street Titan; “You know that!”. His mantra perhaps, though silent; “how does an entertainer formulate these thoughts?” Instead he pleaded, “I wish I could convince you otherwise!” I carried on, chastising the main stream media for being the biggest culprits in perpetuating this illusion of democracy, and keeping everyone distracted with the latest Brittany Spears escapade (talk about Lamb of God) as the American people along with our shriveling dollars are being sold down the river. By this time, we both had finished the first and second courses, and dodging the assorted glasses of red and white wine in front of me, I drank from the water goblet in the back.

I reassured Mr. Donaldson that even though it was the ending of America and our civil liberties, the dollar and the Constitution, our Sovereignty and our individual freedom, I said I was going to be all right, for I was sensing the information I was disseminating was causing concern to this kind man, like a father worried for one of his own. He asked me how I knew I was going to be alright and I said, “Because I’m not afraid of who I am. I ask myself ‘What Would Toto Do?’ While everyone was shaking in their boots at the great and powerful Oz, Toto was merely parting the curtain, and while we all stand shaking in our boots at the most corrupt and secretive Un-American administration in our nation’s history, looking for a Messiah to deliver us from our foreign, domestic and economic evils, remember, it is the metaphoric Toto in all of us, the recognition of our innate curiosity and goodness; not afraid of Truth, not afraid of our Light; this alignment with our Divinity is a mighty force that is our ultimate Savior.

This economic and spiritual communion took place while dining on a sumptuous meal at one of the finest French (is it o.k. that I mentioned French?) restaurants in New York City. We wound down the lively (pretty much one-sided) conversation by mentioning the delicious food, the glorious dessert and bold coffee along with expressing our gratitude and the merits of being Dina and Ted’s friends. As we were getting up to leave, one of the guests mentioned that she and her husband were late getting into the city, as they had just flown in from Chicago, and arrived at the airport forty five minutes prior to the start of the luncheon.(around the same time I was circling La Grenouille in my ‘93 station wagon). In an attempt to commiserate with her dilemma I piped in with “I hear they cancelled a lot of flights due to the weather ” She replied, “Oh no, we flew in a private plane.” To cover the tracks of my ignorance in social hierarchy I quickly retorted with ” Well thank God for that!”

I said my goodbyes to everyone after taking pictures with other guests who hailed from Libertyville IL. (I just finished a pilot for Lifetime of the same name and thought perhaps the photographing of this coincidence would ensure its pickup) In my final farewells to Bill and his lovely wife Jane, I thanked Bill for allowing me to share my thoughts with him, as I was sure it was not something he expected at an Investor’s luncheon. He looked at me with concern, then smiled warmly and said “We have to talk!” (He probably was hoping next time he could get in a few more words. )

I drove back to Maplewood after stopping for aspirin at the Alexander Hamilton convenience stop on the 95, leaving behind an afternoon of rubbing shoulders with the rich and powerful at an exclusive New York restaurant. I decided to do more research on my famous relative, this time connecting bloodlines instead of shoulders, with the rich and powerful of yesterday.
Turns out Elihu Root was the founding Chairman of The Council on Foreign Relations. Its illustrious membership roster began more than 80 years ago with a man who ironically argued for three hours on the Senate floor against the Federal Reserve Act. It fell on deaf ears. This Republican Senator from New York, ahead of his time, warned against the reduction in bank reserves and alluded to the dollar crisis that would ensue, when inflation would drive foreigners to sell American securities (dollars). This well intentioned man, warning us of the dangers of the Federal Reserve, went on to establish a very powerful, private, group of which Barack Obama is a part of, that makes and shapes foreign and domestic policy without ever having to answer to the American People, faithful to establishing a One World Government, Global Elite Bankers, take all.

Curiosity and the internet, can be a fatal combination, when it comes to one’s need for sleep. Around 2 a.m. after hours of reading about my Nobel prize winning ancestor who tried to save the Union from the catastrophic consequences of the Federal Reserve, I went back to my Yahoo home page and as I was about to close the laptop and outen the light, I saw the headlines for the day. I was astounded.. another dot was being connected without even searching for it. It read “TREASURY’S PLAN WOULD GIVE THE FEDERAL RESERVE WIDE NEW POWER.” I thought about Barack Obama and Brad Pitt, and the lovely luncheon with waiters that spoke French and I thought of my ancestor Elihu Root. Thou my feelings were mixed on the accomplishments of this Republican Statesman, ,strangely all of this internet information had left me with a sense of hope and inspiration in spite of parting the curtain on the Truth of this World of unforgiving debt and its debtors. I thought of my ole’ pal Jesus when he said,”You shall know the Truth, and the Truth will make you Free.” So to all the Power Elitists who would bark, “Let them eat cake!”, my motto is “Google!” Toto would agree.

I DREAMED A DREAM OF A DAY YET TO COME

I just woke up from a dream and I had to share it....

It was a typical sunny May afternoon in Times Square, New York City.

Impatient taxi cab drivers were shouting from their windows and honking their horns. Street vendors were selling their t-shirts and roasted nuts, and a long haired cowboy in underwear was strumming his guitar, without getting much attention from the crowd.

Tourists from all over the world were crowding the sidewalks along Broadway, gazing up at the latest risqué Calvin Klein billboard, moving like a giant machine with many opposing parts, yet in harmony - each part focused on its own specific task without taking notice of the others.

A classic New York City scene, and then, as if upon command, the crowd stopped and parted, and from within, a small but boisterous group emerged, unaware of their surroundings.

Each member was wielding at least one camera - some had two or three. Most were packing small handheld video cameras and they were snapping pictures and taking movies like Japanese tourists at the Grand Canyon.

Stunned by the small cluster’s complete and total oblivion, the crowd fell silent and watched in confusion as screams of joy and surprise bounced off the soaring structures and neon lit signs above.

There did not appear to be a connected conversion between anyone in the animated group, and the onlookers stood stupefied watching the sidewalk circus.

Sunglass hawkers and book vendors that line the edge of the side walk stood on tiptoes to get a glimpse and small children tugged at their parents' pant legs to get attention and were promptly placed on adult shoulders.

Among the bemused mass of observers was a man of considerable age - grayed, wrinkled and slightly stooped. Like the rest of the audience, he watched the unfolding walkway assemblage for what seemed liked minutes, but was more like seconds.

“Not your typical Midwest tourists visiting New York,” he thought, “are they street performance artists?”

He observed their brightly colored t-shirts – vivid shades of yellow and green, as well as some light blues, heather reds and grays. Several shirts were adorned with slogans - PEACE, LOVE, and RBloggers4Peace, and some were wearing unsightly, vibrant pink sandals on their feet.

If not street performers, he thought, perhaps anti-war demonstrators, but he wasn’t convinced because he had never heard of camera sporting demonstrators, and they most certainly were not hammy enough – they did not notice the crowd had frozen around them.

The shouting within the group continued out of control – getting louder and louder and there was some unintentional pushing and shoving as each member vied for the best shot.

It was virtually impossible to concentrate on what any one person was saying and much to the surprise of the elderly man; he noticed not a single camera was pointed up at the marquees and signs overhead. Every camera was aimed within the group.

Finally, feeling fearless, and curious to learn more about the disruptive troupe, the elderly gentleman took a step closer toward the chaos.

He found it nearly impossible to decode a single word there were saying with all the shouts and squeals, but he stayed focused. Concentrating all his energy, slowly, individual voices become more distinct and clear.

“Niecey, come do a vlog with me.” Sounding almost pornographic the aged eavesdropper nearly stepped back into the fold of the crowd, but curiosity got the better of him.

“Bobby, turn this way. Kelly, look into the camera.” The old man looked in their direction and thought maybe it was a group of Broadway actors – they surely had the looks.

“Michele, will you please get out of the way. I’m trying to shoot Liz. No, No Liz, look at me.” He peered at who he believed to be Liz and Michele. He could not take his eyes from Liz’s statuesque exquisiteness and Michele’s beautifully shy smile. Certainly they are stars, he thought to himself.

“Tammy, stop slobbering all over Gpawilli – you too Meli.” Feeling a little envious of the good-looking bald man, he briefly considered what it would be like to have those two lovely ladies ravishing him in the same manner.

“M, move your glass of Jack. I can’t see your face. Kim, will you please tell M to move that glass.” The observer was entranced. Who was this mysterious M and what powers did Kim have over her? Another fleeting thought was, is that Jack Daniels in that huge glass, and is it legal to drink on the corner of Broadway and 45th St? .

“Gia, come stand by me.” He noticed many people yelling for Gia and he could understand why, her entire body appeared to be silhouetted by a halo of yellow.

“Are you talking Kelly G or Kelly W?” He overheard someone ask. There seemed to be some confusion among the group - they acted like they know each other, but possibly did not. Someone quickly gestured for both Kellys to make their presence known and he noted their different, but shared beauty.

“Karen, move your head a bit this way?’ The interloper recognized Karen to be a striking woman who possessed both warmth and understanding – another crowd favorite.

“Gary, where is Patty?” Believing he had a fuller understanding of this roving band of misguided misfits, the man concluded that Gary must be some sort of organizer, and he also wondered about Patty, and what wonderful gifts she must bring to the group.

“Kari…Kat, grab your Flips and let’s go in there.” Bobby was pointing directly in front of him - to the one remaining adult oriented establishment in Times Square. The two ladies, deep in a frenetic conversation, stopped for a moment to see where he was pointing, and quickly returned to their voluble discussion. With a thunderous laugh Bobby continued, “but we can buy Jakie a gag gift or something he can hang in his new place, besides think of the Vlogging possibilities.” This was the second time the old guy had heard someone saying the word vlog. He didn’t know what it meant but it knew the word sounded vulgar to him.

“Tammy, I told you and Meli to leave poor Gpawilli alone.” Oh, to be that lucky Gpawilli fellow, the man thought.

Leaning too far in, the man lost his balance and fell into the theatrical throng of tourists, breaking the invisible wall between the watchers and the watched, and he was instantly overtaken by the masses.

“Mister, will you please take a picture of me and my friends," yelled Liz?

Before the brave stranger could utter a response, M gently, but firmly grabbed him by the hand, without spilling a drop of Jack, led him to the side, and directed him. The crowd parted and each member assembled, reconfigured, reassembled and posed for the photo.

The hi-jacked makeshift photographer took one picture and was descended upon like a lame wildebeest in the company of hungry lions. Hands, arms and cameras were flying everywhere. Ten, twenty, thirty camera wielding hands were wildly thrust in the daring outsider’s direction.

“Mine too please.”

“Over here Mister.”

“Will you please take one with my camera too, sir?”

Shouts, requests and orders were thrown at the commandeered man like he was a short order cook.

DING!

The group came together again and more photos were taken. They grouped and regrouped, arranged and rearranged and the photographer patiently snapped pictures until every individual had all the shots they wanted.

Another sidewalk spectator was recruited for the final shot which included the old man surrounded by all the beautiful ladies, with the men standing in the rear.

After numerous enthusiastic kisses on the cheek, firm handshakes and hugs, air kisses and shouts of thank you and goodbye, the group started moving north on Broadway.

The enraptured crowd stood around nervously, unsure if they should applaud, eventually disengaged from the action and enveloped the loud group who disappeared as fast as they appeared.

In their dust stood the benevolent widower, with a knowing smile on his face, pondering what he had just experienced, until, like a sledgehammer to the head it hit him that he had failed to ask who they were, where they came from or what they were doing in the city.

It didn’t matter.

Wrapped in the warmth of their joyfulness and noticeable appreciation, he too stepped into the crowd and made his journey home.

Several hours later, as he was sitting in his favorite chair, absentmindedly watching as Larry King butchered another interview on CNN, and assessing his day, he realized that he had not stopped smiling since his encounter with the crazy group of strangers. It had filled him with more pleasure than he would ever be able to convey to his friends when he later retold the story, but deep down he was still disappointed that he failed to inquire about their mission in the city.

Just then his companion Sam, a 13 year old beagle, walked over to his chair with his leash in his mouth. It was time for their late night walk.

It was well past midnight and the crowds on the street had thinned considerably as the tourists and Broadway audiences moved on to their homes, hotels, or other parts of the city.

Rounding the corner by the New York City Center he was astounded to see a large crowd was still gathered. Had a tour bus forgotten to pick up its passengers, he thought.

The closer he approached he started to hear loud enthusiastic voices and with each step the voices became familiar, as did the faces.

He instantly recognized Gary, and Bobby, as well as Michele, Liz, Karen, Niecey, Gia, Kat and Kari, and the Kellys. M and Kim were there and M had replaced her glass of Jack with Kim’s hand, and there was Tammy and Meli, with Gpawilli stuck in between.

There was one other face in the crowd that looked very familiar, but he could not get a good look because she was being swarmed by the masses so he continued to walk closer.

When he was within a few feet of the group, they turned in unison and he was met with shouts and screams of recognition. Each of the girls kissed him on the cheek again, and the men hugged him like he was family.

Liz and one of the Kellys excitedly yelled, “We were just telling…”but they were cut off. From within the group stepped the unfamiliar, yet very familiar face.

Extending her hand, she said, “You must be the wonderful man that I was just hearing about. You helped make the Rblogger’s day one they will never forget. You are very kind. Thank you, sir. What is your name?”

“No need to thank me Rosie,” he said, “My name is Edward and I must thank them. They made an old man very happy today.”

“Well Edward, these are the RBloggers. They are a ragtag group of strangers-friends from around the country who came together over the past year and annoy their families and friends by spending far too much time visiting my website and talking to each other online. They carry Flip video recorders everywhere they go and spontaneously record themselves doing almost anything, and they all traveled here tonight to see me in No No Nanette, and you helped make their visit very memorable.”

With a full heart, he nodded his head and said, “Rosie, congratulation on the show, and you and your adoring RBloggers are very welcome.”

Edward then turned and slowly walked into the night with his old friend Sam, leaving the enthusiastic crowd behind.

He continued to hear their enthusiastic sounds of happiness, appreciation, adoration and joy - not just while he walked away – they rang in his heart the rest of his life.

The above was unknowingly inspired by Meli... Thank you