I’m going to be on Anderson Cooper Live this coming Wednesday for a Post Election Special/ Town Hall Meeting.
I’m excited and a bit nervous. I typically keep my political views to myself. This opportunity has forced me to look at my opinions a little more carefully.
It consumed my entire weekend.
Seven days after Hurricane Sandy, my family in NY is still without power. And it’s cold. Somehow, our little neighborhood here kept power when 90% of our town went out.
My parents are here with us. They are always welcome. I love having them here.
We should never get into a political debate. Ever. Ever. Ever.
I mentioned to Mom that I had to answer a few questions to let the producers know where I stand.
We discussed it. Then there was yelling. Things were said.
Things like socialist, nickel hippie (I think it’s the same as a mall hippie), pseudo environmentalist, chubby girl.
I’m kidding. She didn’t call me chubby.
My Dad stayed fairly quiet through the discussion, shaking his head and laughing at little. My husband provided a little comic relief, then got out fast to watch the game.
Did I kick her out in to the cold for calling me a faker?
Of course not.
She’s my mom. She is the one (as far as I can tell) who raised me to care about the world around me, to put people in front of money and to have compassion for all people. She taught me to stand my ground, to persevere. She showed me that women are strong. She proved again and again that she can be successful at anything she sets out to do, therefore so can I.
My mother is a force to be reckoned with, just like her mother before her. I’ve never considered following in their footsteps. I figured that was my sister’s role.
For the first time, I matched her level of passion for her beliefs with my own. On second thought, maybe not. I came close. It seems that in past years, I haven’t cared enough to argue or even express my opinions.
What’s the point when it isn’t going to change anything?
Like so many Americans, I had succumbed to apathy. I had lost hope that anything could ever change. I fully recognized that politicians were not to be trusted. The realists reading this are probably thinking “It’s about time, Amy. What the hell took you so long?”
For an idealist like me, that’s downright depressing.
I had stopped dreaming of a better future. I stopped thinking that I could make a difference. I stopped trying to make the world a better place.
I know it sounds corny. I do. I told you I am an idealist.
Mom and I are fine. It’s all good. Maybe I will become a force too, like all the women in my family. Or maybe not. I somehow found new hope again in all the arguing. I’m not going to stop looking for a better way, a better future for my family and for us all.
So now I will leave you with a quote from a song I used to hear over the 8 Track in my mother’s car, back when I wore terrycloth jumpers and floral sundresses and had dreams of dancing Clara in The Nutcracker.
Imagine all the people living life in peace. You say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one. I hope someday you will join us and the world will be as one. -John Lennon
Peace is a choice.
