GOOD NEWS AMIDST THE BAD

From TPM:

The Obama administration announced on Monday that health insurance plans must cover birth control with no copays, among other reproductive health care services, as preventative care for women. The requirement will apply to health care plans beginning on or after August 1, 2012. The announcement comes just a month after Health and Human Services released a recommendation that sought to expand preventative services for women under Obama's health care law.

In addition to birth control, the expansion will cover breast pumps for nursing mothers, an annual "well-woman" physical, including screening for the virus that causes cervical cancer, HIV, and gestational diabetes, as well as counseling for domestic violence.

Too bad women have to wait a year for the coverage, but better late than never. These policies should not have had to be mandated by the federal government. If not to provide better health care for women, the insurance companies should have seen these policies as in their own self-interests to reduce overall costs in the long haul. Ah, but few business take the long view these days.

THE HYDRA WON'T DIE

From Jim Burroway at Box Turtle Bulletin:

When Uganda’s Eighth Parliament came to an end last May, the draconian Anti-Homosexuality Bill died with it. Almost immediately, M.P. David Bahati vowed to resurrect the bill in the Ninth Parliament. Two weeks ago, Frank Mugisha of Sexual Minorities Uganda told reporters and bloggers that there are persistent reports that the bill may be resurrected sometime in mid- to late-August. Ugandan MP Otto Odonga, who has said that he would apply to be a hangman even if it were his own son who was gay and at the gallows, confirmed to Warren Throckmorton that the bill will be brought back “perhaps by the end of August,” and that it would pick up “from where the last parliament ended.”

Read the rest of the post over there.

What will it take to bring to their senses people so filled with hate that they want to kill fellow citizens because of who they are? In his Presidential Address to General Synod of the Church of England in July 2011, Archbishop Rowan Williams praised the Anglican churches in Congo and Kenya for acting as the last refuge for oppressed people in the countries. Where is his call for the Anglican Church of Uganda to be the last refuge for GLTB people in the country, who are, even now, being persecuted and killed? Why the strange silence?

Image from Wikipedia.

QUESTION OF THE DAY

Why do I once again feel that I live in the country of no hope?

PLEASE PRAY FOR JOE AND ALISA WALKER AND THEIR FAMILY

From Tim Chesterton at Faith, Folk and Charity:

Those of you who pray, please pray for my good friend and colleague Joe Walker. Joe is married to Alisa and is the father of four school age children, Emily, Adam, Sarah Joy, and Justin; he is also the rector of St. Timothy’s Anglican Church here in Edmonton. Back in June Joe was diagnosed with a particularly aggressive and fast-acting form of cancer; he has one fast-growing tumour in the small intestine and another on the liver. For various reasons his cancer is inoperable, and from a medical point of view all that can be done is to keep him as comfortable as possible.

Joe’s wife Alisa has recently sent out this letter and asked that it be passed around.

You can read the letter at Tim's blog, which is linked above.

May God the Father bless Joe, God the Son heal him, God the Holy Spirit give him strength. May God the holy and undivided Trinity guard his body, save his soul, and bring him safely to the heavenly country; where God lives and reigns for ever and ever. Amen.

Sanctify, O Lord, those whom you have called to care for Joe, especially Alisa. Strengthen them by your life-giving Spirit, that by their ministries the health of the community may be promoted and your creation glorified; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

LITTLE GIRL ON A PLANE

An atheist was seated next to a little girl on an airplane and

He turned to her and said, "Do you want to talk? Flights go quicker if you strike up a conversation with your fellow passenger."

The little girl, who had just started to read her book, replied to the total stranger, "What would you want to talk about?"

" Oh, I don't know," said the atheist. "How about why there is no God, or no Heaven or Hell, or no life after death?" as he smiled smugly.

"OK," she said. "Those could be interesting topics but let me ask you a question first. A horse, a cow, and a deer all eat the same stuff - grass. Yet a deer excretes little pellets, while a cow turns out a flat patty, but a horse produces clumps. Why do you suppose that is?"

The atheist, visibly surprised by the little girl's intelligence, thinks about it and says, "Hmmm, I have no idea."

To which the little girl replies, "Do you really feel qualified to discuss why there is no God, or no Heaven or Hell, or no life after death, when you don't know shit?"

And then she went back to reading her book.

Thanks to Ann.

THE DIVINE IRMA THOMAS IN NEWCASTLE UPON TYNE

The post on the Irma Thomas concert at the Sage in Newcastle Upon Tyne is in my head begging to come out, so I will write about the next-to-last big event of my trip first...well not quite first...I had to get the whine out of the way. People thought I was crazy to go to an Irma Thomas concert in Newcastle, when she performs in New Orleans upon Mississippi quite often, but I thought it would be cool to hear the Soul Queen of New Orleans in England and to see the audience reaction over there. MadPriest accompanied me, or rather he drove me in his car. And it was beyond cool. I made no mistake.

Before Irma took the stage, a 'Gospel choir' performed. As the choir came onto the stage, my first, shocked thought was, "They're WHITE!" All right, they were fronting for the Soul Queen, and I expected a black Gospel choir. Silly me. Still, the all-white choir seemed to thoroughly enjoy themselves singing soul and blues music.

Next up was the Soul Rebels Brass Band out of New Orleans, and they were excellent. Now we're groovin'! I probably lost a good portion of the little hearing that I have left listening to them, but it was worth it.

Then comes the Divine Irma. I did not know her age at the time of the concert, but I thought she was at least 10 years younger than I, but Thomas is 70 years old! Only 6 years younger, and what energy! And she was off to London to perform at the Barbican Centre the very next day.

Irma and her band put their whole hearts and souls into their performances. She loves her audiences and spends herself for them, and the folks in Newcastle returned her love in abundance. She had her cheat sheets along, her binder with the lyrics of all the songs she's ever recorded, and she took requests from the audience and sang as many of the requests as could be fit into the time. To see the interactions amongst Irma and the members of her band is amazing. They're together as a team in a smooth flow that is a joy to witness.

When I hear soul music with a dancin' beat, it's really hard for me to sit still in a seat, so I was thrilled when the folks in front of me stood up, and I could stand and MOVE in time to the music. I passed a good time; I did.

Earlier in the day, I asked MadPriest if he had a white handkerchief I could borrow. I meant to bring one of Grandpère's with me, but I forgot. When MadPriest asked what I wanted with the handkerchief, I told him that around these parts, it is customary to stand up and wave a white handkerchief in time to a song with a fast beat when Irma performs. He said, "You won't; not with me." Heh, heh. I forgot all about the handkerchief, but I had white tissues. At some point, I got out my tissue and began to wave it. I didn't care if MP was embarrassed. I was gonna do it. I HAD to do it. MadPriest said the bass player gave me a thumbs-up, but I missed seeing it. :-( Later in the show, a member of the audience asked for the "handkerchief song", and Irma passed out tissues to the audience to wave as she sang, and I was no longer alone.

Irma's is a niche fan base, but the fans love her, and they are loyal. It's great to see performers give their best and to see the audience respond with love. To you folks who thought I was crazy, I knew what I was doing, and I received my reward. MadPriest, whose standards are high, said it was a wonderful show.

Below is a note to her fans from Irma's website, linked above, which shows that she never forgets them and their part in her success.

Hello to all my Fans,

This year started on a very good note and turned into a great one! Work has been steady, and the awards just keep on coming.

I received an Offbeat Award, A Blues Music Award, Big Easy Award, a Family Services Award (for my Husband and me), The Mo Jo Magazine of London England Legends Award, and the year is not over. I am so blessed.

You the fans have caused me to be in this position and I want to thank all of you for your dedication and loyalty. Without it I could not survive.

To know you have loyal fans all over the would is a humbling experience to say the least. One can not take for granted, not one of you, and I hope I never ever do that in this lifetime.

Just wanting to say thank you again and looking forward to seeing and singing for you in the coming months.

Look for my new CD, "50th Anniversary Collection" - all the greats!

Love Irma

Picture from Wikipedia.

UPDATE: A review of her performance in Newcastle may be found in JournalAlive.

Irma was in excellent form at the Barbican in London according to the review in The Independent.

"I LIKE TO CALL IT 'MARRIAGE'"

Thanks to Roger.

THE TRUTH ABOUT DOROTHY

...is 70 years old.

Today, if Dorothy were to encounter men with NO brains, NO hearts, and NO courage...

She wouldn't be in Oz...

She'd be in Congress.

Don't blame me. Blame Doug.

OUR DEAR FRIEND GÖRAN KOCH-SWAHNE PASSED AWAY

From Patrick Kiarie Nyorogo on Facebook:

Am so sad....i received bad news,regarding my dad Goran,the nature have taken its course and he died......cancer is a killable disease! Oh my God,am shaking!

Damn cancer!

Farewell, sweet friend. May flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.

May Göran rest in peace and rise in glory.

May God give comfort, consolation, and the peace that passes understanding to Patrick and to all who love Göran, including me.

I'll write more later about our friend, but what I've written here is all I can manage for now.

FLYING FUN

One post only. One bitch and moan post about my flights to England and back, and I'll lay the subject to rest. I promise. My flight from New Orleans to Newark, NJ, was to leave at 3:15PM. In Newark, it was a dark and stormy afternoon. All flights to the airport were delayed because of the weather. At one point, our plane was backing away from the gate, and we were ordered back. Thank heavens the crew let us off the plane, because we stayed in the airport for hours, until I can't remember what time, but so late that I was going to miss my flight to England at 10:10PM, the last overseas flight of the day.

But wait! If all flights were delayed, perhaps my plane to England was delayed. It was! Until 1:30AM! Then it was delayed until 2:30AM because of the weather and because of "issues". Now, I wouldn't want to fly on a plane with "issues". Would you? We finally departed at 4:30AM, which meant that I spent the night at the Newark airport. The fun begins!

Cathy was to meet me at Euston Station in London, where I should have arrived early in the afternoon, but she had to go to work at 4:30PM. I had to get word to her not to meet me, that I would be late, and I'd take a taxi to my hotel. By then, it was past bedtime in my zone, Central Standard Time, and on the East Coast. I had no computer with me, and my phone worked only in the US and Canada. I thought of friends further west in the US and called Ann Fontaine and received no answer, so I left a message, but Ann's husband thought I said "Jewel" instead of "June", so that didn't work. Then I called cher Paul in ABQ, and he answered his phone! I asked him to email Cathy to forget about meeting me, as I would be late, very late. My flight arrived in Manchester, England around 2:00PM, and I took the train to London and rode a taxi to my hotel, arriving there around 5:00PM.

My holiday in the Green and Pleasant Land was lovely, immensely enjoyable, about which more later, after my vent about flying.

On the day of my return home, I woke up at 5:30AM. Nothing went really wrong on the flights home, except me. I was patted down and watched the agents paw through my undies when I left England, all the while chuckling to myself as the workers spoke in soothing tones, because they didn't want the old lady to freak out. There were no long flight delays, but when I reached the airport in Newark, the lines at Passport Control were long, very long. After waiting my turn, not so patiently, I got through. Then, I picked up my checked suitcase and went through Customs, then passed through the security check once again, shoes off, jacket off, all the crap associated with keeping us safe in the skies. Next I took a train to another terminal to catch the plane to Houston for the next leg of the journey.

By the time I reached the huge Bush airport in Houston, I was ready to drop. My one small carry-on felt as though it weighed a ton, and the walk to my gate in another terminal seemed miles away. I tried to commandeer a cart, but the driver could not take me, however she was kind enough to call on another driver who agreed to deliver me to my gate. TBTG! One more plane to New Orleans, the 45 minute ride to Thibodaux, and I reached home just after midnight. After adding 6 hours to account for the time change, from 5:30AM in England to after 12:00AM in Louisiana makes for a long travel day. I won't do it again.

Forgive me for this indulgence in whining, but I had to vent, and I want to have a record of the journey so I won't ever think of doing it again. It's like having a baby. You forget the pain, and go on to have more babies. I realize that I suffered no permanent damage, but while I was in the middle of it, I was miserable. I'm too old for this sort of thing, even if the rewards in the middle of the two periods of misery were great. I love England. I've loved England since I was a teenager, and I traveled there more times than I can count, but I've made my farewell tour of the lovely country. Good-bye, my English sweets; I'll see you online, or you visit me here in the US.