In 1968 Shirley Chisholm was the first Black woman elected to the United States Congress; she served in the House of Representatives from 1969 – 1983. In 1972 she became the first woman to run for the Democratic Party’s nomination for President of the United States, the first Black candidate for a major party nomination.
Shirley Chisholm had spunk. Unlike Lou Grant (who told Mary Richards in one classic scene from the Mary Tyler Moore Show: Mary, you’ve got spunk – I hate spunk) I admire spunk so Rep. Chisholm is on my list of most admired people. I hear her voice with its crystal clarion calling out of truth to power echoing through the halls of the US Capitol today as surely as her footsteps walked those halls more than a half century ago:
“It is incomprehensible to me, the fear that can affect men in political offices. It is shocking the way they submit to forces they know are wrong and fail to stand up for what they believe. Can their jobs be so important to them, their prestige, their power, their privileges so important that they will cooperate in the degradation of our society just to hang on to those jobs?”
Yep. Sure sounds like it, Shirley.
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Every vote matters – don’t sit this one out. Vote Tuesday, November 08th!
I am a seeker A poor sinful creature There is no weaker than I am I am a seeker And you are a teacher You are a reacher So reach down Reach out and lead me Guide me and keep me In the shelter of your care each day ‘Cause I am a seeker And you are a keeper You are the leader Won’t you show me the way
I am a vessel that’s empty and useless I am a bad seed that fell by the way I am a loser that wants to be a winner You are my last hope Don’t turn me away
Oh, you are a mountain From which there flows a fountain So let its water wash my sins away ‘Cause I am a seeker And you are a keeper You are a teacher Won’t you teach me the way Reach out and lead me Guide me and keep me In the shelter of your care each day
Pretty and I shared many tears as we stood next to Carport Kitty when her brave heart came to rest yesterday. Congestive heart failure was the culprit, but this first and last visit to a vet confirmed what we suspected when she first appeared in our carport during the fall of 2021 – frail, limping, exhausted but adamant in her refusal of our attempts to touch her – equally determined to avoid the crate we borrowed from our friend Francie to try to get her to the vet.
And yet she survived with us in her own way. Pretty began her rescue efforts with a bowl of fresh water every day; I told her I was definitely against any cat rescue since we had three dogs in the house plus my cat allergies. Anyone could see (except Pretty) that we didn’t have a place for an urban feral cat. Sigh. That’s about the time I started feeding her Meow Mix and named her Carport Kitty. Meow Mix moved on to Temptations which led to the canned food delights of Fancy Feast and Little Friskies. CPK became a celebrity to our cyberspace friends through her adventures on Cardinal Street during the changing seasons. Carport Kitty had a following. Never a loser to Pretty and me – always a winner.
Carport Kitty moved through three other neighborhood homes this summer – I thought she was following the sun to avoid the extreme heat but in retrospect I think she was following the instincts that helped her survive on the streets for who knows how many years or the circumstances that created her journey. One neighbor told us when we first asked last fall if the calico cat belonged to him that she had been roaming this neighborhood for years. He had given her and her friends food, water and shelter from the cold. The calico cat was a stray.
Over the months Carport Kitty gradually began to trust Pretty and me. I often sat on the kitchen steps outside with her at night to give her last meal of the day – usually her third! Lately she had seemed to want more than her typical head pats from me, a few meows, rubbing against my legs, longer visits than we shared in the summer heat. The black Tuxedo cat, the Bully Cat, the Yellow Cat – all her friends came around at dinner time now but were afraid to come close to her turkey and giblets because the old white woman chased them away to protect the calico cat.
Somehow in the vicissitudes of life as my daddy used to talk about, I heard Lauren Daigle sing “The Seeker” for a Dolly Parton tribute the night before we lost Carport Kitty. Dolly wrote the song for an album released in 1975 – her words haunted me during these past painful hours because I do believe Carport Kitty was a seeker who came to our home searching for keepers. She found these keepers brought much more than water, food, places for her to reign supreme in her carport kingdom. They gave her their love.
No matter what time Pretty and I drove up the driveway we both looked for the little calico cat who stood guard over our carport, waiting for us to come home. I’d like to think she might still wait for us…somewhere.
For all our friends in cyberspace who have been with us longer than a hot minute (or at least a year) you will recognize changes in our family photos for our second annual Riverbanks Halloween Boo at the Zoo experience. Taken last night, the first night of the 10 night Boo extravaganza we find Pretty in a very large witch’s hat standing behind me in my disguise as an old lady with white hair; to our right the witch family with Pretty Too as Mama Witch holding baby witch Molly now almost 9 months old, 3 year old witch Ella being held by Number One Son Daddy disguised as Gamecock fan minus gear. To the left of Pretty and me Pretty Too’s twin sister Pretty Also (with fangs) plus Super Bro in Law Seth and their 3 months old adorable Cousin Caleb.
The night was a perfect one – not so cold as we had thought – mild 60s. Most of the animals had wisely stayed in their sleeping quarters as the hordes of costumed children and frazzled families descended for utter mayhem. Or, as Ella told me when I wasn’t quite quick enough to lift her to see the one brave black monkey stick its head out for a peep at the crowd, I think he had to go potty, Naynay. Brilliant.
As I let Ella slide to the ground, she said, I think you’re too heavy to carry me. Her legs are almost as long as mine!
Thanks to the thoughtfulness of Pretty Too and Pretty Also combined with the commercial acumen of the Riverbanks Zoo, we have a few pictures to remember the night. (Luckily, or unluckily, videos of my ending dance (following a mug of witch’s brew spirits) with Ella to my all time favorite group Abba’s Dancing Queen were unrecoverable. Pretty forgot to hit the “record” button. Ella will one day thank her for that, too.)
A few noticeable differences in the Boo experience this year, the most obvious the addition of two children who still qualify for free admission. Two strollers required this time with related diaper bags containing well, you know, what diaper bags all over the world contain. With the little girl who now required a ticket to enter, a decided shift in focus from being mesmerized by the millions of lights outlining ghosts, goblins, witches, bats, pumpkins that had so thrilled her last year – to wait for it, candy acquisition and consumption. The war with sugar has begun.
The kindness of strangers moved us all when we entered the zoo last night. Somehow in the frenetic pace of parents getting home from work to dress children and themselves in festive Halloween costumes, no one brought Ella’s candy bucket. As Pretty turned to make an emergency run for the candy container in the zoo store, a young mother stood nearby pushing a stroller herself with another child by her side. She gave Ella a bucket with the words, we have two and only need one. Sharing is caring, right? Ella saw a very good example of what those words really mean, and we did, too.
From our family to yours, have a safe and Happy Halloween.
Oh well, gosh, golly. Now that you mention it – nothing, unless you count the one vote thing in the upcoming elections on November 8th. Each one of these American singers has one vote in the election which is now fewer than three weeks away.
Sorry, everyone. In a democracy we all get one vote. No matter how talented we are, how sophisticated or erudite or ignorant – we each get one vote. Our votes are our voices. Use them, people. No excuses, no regrets.
inflation, gas prices, gun crimes, too
bring us the headlines we all must view
but one thing’s for sure in 2022
the supremes took away our right to choose
Your vote, your opportunity to vote for a party that will respect a woman’s right to control her own body. Restore Roe.
I'll Call It Like I See It 
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