OK, so today...

Started off in a LOUSY mood, about ready to explode at work, coworker John pats my back and says he can see me "gettin’ to that place". I take a deep breath and close my eyes, then rub them and rub my face. For whatever reason, this is what I do when I’m stressed, really stressed. I think it helps de-stress me. It feels good. It’s kind of a chicken or the egg thing: do I rub my face and eyes as I launch into being stressed, or do I rub my face and eyes to move away from stress? Probably both. Most things in life are like that. A little of both. Anyhoo, I pulled myself out of my funk and reviewed my report with my coworkers who are also stressed out due to our increasing client load and the complexities our clients present in their cases. I’ll have to remember to thank John.

My oldest brother had a stoke yesterday and I found out about it this morning. My mom called me as I was getting ready for work. I knew something was up, not because I have ESP, but because my mom wouldn’t be calling me at 8:30a on a weekday for just any old thing. So I knew it was something important, probably something bad.

This is the brother who’s a Presbyterian minister/chaplain. He happened to be AT work, chaplaining as it were, when the stroke occurred. Even though it was a moderately serious (is that an oxymoron?) stroke, he got treatment immediately and he’s recovering. A few decades ago he would have been dead. He’ll be out of ICU tomorrow and home by the weekend or Monday. Weakened but ok. I thought it was slightly amusing that the hospital’s head chaplain needed pastoral care and his staff has to, well, give their boss pastoral care. His staff. That he supervises. How weird and funny that is. To me.

He’s an Obama supporter and caucused in Iowa. He got to meet Senator Obama at a town hall meeting, and asked him a question about health care. He said he liked the Senator’s answer and it was then he decided to support him. My brother has always been the sibling I looked up to. He has always been very liberal and I emulated his political ideology when I was just a child. I remember the ‘68 convention because of him. He was angry with the establishment. My parents were angry with the anti-establishment. I really picked up on this war of ideologies. And I adopted his.

I’ve never wavered in my liberal ideology. I’ve questioned myself regarding certain things, such as abortion after the thi–good God, I almost typed "abortion after the third trimester". Abortion after the first trimester. Abortion after the third trimester. Can we do that with George Bush and Dick Cheney? Anyway, I have questioned myself regarding liberal vs. conservative social issues. I’m not ultra liberal. I don’t favor gun control legislation because I don’t think it’s effective. I actually see abortion and guns as being very similar in terms of politics and legislation. You can legislate them ‘til the cows come home but people will still get them if they want them. And outlawing them just makes them more dangerous. Not to mention a slice out of personal freedom. I truly believe that guns don’t kill people, people kill people. I’m also not opposed to the death penalty in cases where there’s irrefutable evidence. But I digress.

Unfortunately my siblings and I aren’t that close as adults. We all grew up in a very stoic, Protestant, unemotional family. I wish we were closer. I think we all struggle to emote to and with each other. I’m a lot younger than my siblings. Well, "a lot" is relative. The three of them were born within five years, while I’m seven years younger than the youngest of the three of them. But I’ve always looked up to and admired my brother Larry. I even spoke of him on caucus night when I got up to speak in support of OUR candidate, Barack Obama. My brother has inspired me all my life. And that led me to Senator Barack Obama, our next president. His presidency will take our nation, our world, our civilization to a whole new place of understanding and sense of duty to each other as human beings. And to our planet and all of its inhabitants.

Incidentally, shortly after the bad news call, my mother called me back to tell me that our 15 year old diabetic cat chased off the neighborhood Romeo yesterday, and it was quite a site to see him run at full speed. Especially since he has all of us convinced he needs to be carried up stairs and helped onto beds and chairs and sofas. He’s got us figured out. You can see a picture of him on my page on Obama Brigade.

So, to my brother Larry: a toast and prayer. And for my cat–you go, boy. And John–thank you.