Not as exciting sounding as THE IMPROV, but that’s where I’m gonna be telling stories and raising funds tonight.  Don’t miss it.  Wachovia Bank, 2555 Ponce, Coral Gables.  6:30 pm. $35 for the Women’s Fund.  Includes booze and food.

This was my last show, performing with William “Rock the House” Lewis.  Here he is wrapping his belly with raffle tickets for Lauren’s Light.  Twice around William’s belly for $100.  What a deal!

My friend, Lauren Beiley, invited me to a Jewish Federation symposium called Women with Muscle. I didn’t really want to give up my morning (because I’m writing a book and I need my mornings!) and so I asked her if she really needed me there to fill up space and if so, I said I’d do it. She said she didn’t need me, but that it might be enlightening. Lauren fills space at my events all the time and I could use some enlightening, so I went.

I dressed up because I know what the Jewish women of Miami are like. I grew up with them. They are fancy. I walked into the private house in Pinecrest in my kick-ass jeans and a tight button down shirt that makes me feel sexy and went straight for the food. It was breakfast time and they had fruit salad and bagels and rugalah. I saw Lauren. She came over, we hugged, she thanked me for coming. I said, “Why am I the only one eating?”

She said, “These are Jewish women. I told them not to bother with food.”

I sat next to a girl I played tennis with in high school. Hadn’t seen her in years. I stared at her heals. Three inches, maybe two and a half. She had nice feet and bony ankles.

I crossed my legs and noticed you could see the monkey on my sock peeking out under the bottom of my jeans. Tashi gave me these socks–blue and green stripes with a red heal and a monkey face on the top of the foot. I realized my socks matched the stuffed monkey on my keychain, which I held in my hand because I don’t like to wear a purse. Other women wore jeans, but not many. Everyone wore a purse.

Most were wearing silky blouses or dresses and high healed, strappy sandals.  And lots of make up.  I put on eye liner and mascara this morning, but somehow I still felt like I often did growing up, especially amongst this same crowd, like an oddball.

The symposium was enlightening and really, at 41, I don’t care who wears what or who eats rugulah. But, does everyone feel like the kitty in bunny ears, or just me?

I just like her. Read this essay about the beauty and complexity of America. Because everyone I know was (or is) an immigrant. It has plenty of pictures, like I like. Here’s one of Ponce de Leon. Click on Ponce to get to the essay.

I opened the New York Times website this morning to see that Ted Kennedy died. That’s so sad.  He was probably the most progressive legislator we’ve ever had.  And Obama called him “the greatest United States Senator of our time.” That’s huge.

In my world, Tashi started kindergarden.  All seemed smooth until going to bed last night.  She was already tucked in when I heard sobs from her bead room.  She cried hard.  She said she missed her friends from last year.  She said she’d never see them again and all I could think was, yep, she probably never will.

I don’t usually watch Oprah.  I hardly ever watch TV, but when Victoria moved in, the TV and the TIVO came too.  I know it’s cliche’ and snobby to be one of those TV bashers, but I really don’t like it.  And it’s not so much because TV shows are really a vehicle for commercials and reveal some of the worst of America–capitalism and greed to the excess.   I don’t like that part of TV, but I mostly just don’t like the shows.  I have no patience for them.  They’re bad.  Truth is, I wish I liked TV.  I need a pop cultural education really bad and with the Animal Channel and Cable, I know there’s plenty of good stuff to watch.  Well, that’s what Victoria says.  

So last night, when Victoria started watching Oprah shows that she had recorded on TIVO, I watched too.  

It’s been weeks since the election, but we watched the day after the election Oprah show.   Oprah was wearing a T-shirt that said, “Hope Won.”  She carried an American flag.  U.S. Rep. John Lewis was on talking about his journey.  He was there in Alabama, standing next to Martin Luther King and he was beaten bloody by white cops during the freedom rides more than 45 years ago.  He said he has believed in King’s dream all these years.  

We fast forwarded and watched the next Oprah with Will Smith.  Smith said he loved America.  He talked about how much it has done for him, a black man who is now a big star and I saw it too.  America IS the place where dreams come true.  I’m white, I know.  And I was born into privilege.  I was born in America.

Before November 4 2008, I would have watched Oprah and thought of all the things I don’t like about America.  I have dreamed of a more European America, where people share, where integrity of place and quality of life are more important than buying the most expensive car.  But I watched Oprah and I felt pride and hope for the first time.  I didn’t realize before how much I didn’t like not liking my country.  I guess that’s what TV is for.  

I don’t know about the rest of America, but I’m tired.  And so happy.  Horray for Obama!

I haven’t been able to do much for days, except freak out about the election.  Two days ago I called everyone I ever knew and had a few heated convos about Obama.  

At 9:00 A.M. on election day, I took the Great Schlep seriously and showed up at my 93-year-old grandmother’s assisted living facility and corralled the old people onto a bus headed for the polls.  Before we left, I walked through the dining room to try to pick up a few voters who may have forgotten it was election day.  

I was racially profiling.  I only talked to Jews.  

Then I saw the one black couple who lived there–an old-age home called the Palace in South Florida–amongst the wealthy Jewish and Latina old ladies.  This couple had always intrigued me.  They were elegant.  They seemed with it, even in their 90’s.  

I approached them and said, “Do you want to go the polls?  The bus is leaving in a few minutes.  Obama needs you.”

The man kept eating.  The woman looked up and in a slow Southern drawl said, “Girl, I’m votin’ for McCain.  I’m a WAC.  I’m a veteran.  Do you want me to vote for a man…or the country?”

I didn’t respond.  I was scared.  There I was trying to get all the old Jewish grandmothers to turn out for Obama, which was hard enough—they forgot, they had doctor’s appointments, they could barely make it down the long walk-way to the booth—and even the black people weren’t turning out for Obama.  

I was sure we were going to lose.  

But now that I think about it, today, after Obama is the clear winner and I no longer feel like I need to personally beg for every vote, I can see that this black couple was pretty awesome.  Even if I don’t agree with their politics:  They voted for the country, not for race.  They’ve come a long way. We all have.

My mom’s in New Hampshire campaigning for Obama.  She and her canvassing partner are profiling.  When they see a house with an American flag, they skip it.  

Yesterday her partner asked, “Why do they get the flag?”

Why do the Republicans get the flag?  Aren’t Democrats just as American?  

I don’t know how to admit this, but I’m really gonna miss Sarah Palin.  I think we only have her for 13 more days.

Did you see her on Saturday Night Live?  She was such a good sport.  Especially when they killed that moose. 

Sure she has some annoying qualities:  That thing with the drilling, her allegiance with the religious right, her voice.  

But she’s so pretty. And she can dance. She kind of always has her dance face on, which totally gets me. Makes me want to dance with her.

But soon she’ll be back in Alaska.  So far away.  I wonder what then? 

Tashi’s learning to read on political yard signs.  Whenever we drive around these days, she stares out the window waiting to for another one.

“What does that say?  What does that say?” 

“Well, what letters do you see?”   

“Oh, oh, oh bama,” she says.

  ”Good.”

 She says, “Oh, oh, oh bama,” even when she sees a McCain sign, so I’m not fooled.  Instead I’m amazed at how badly she wants to see Obama signs.  Tashi is very competitive.  She hates to lose.  

I have mixed feelings about kids and politics.  I don’t like when kids are used in ugly battles, like when children march in front of abortion clinics holding up signs with pictures of fetuses.  I don’t like to see kids in candidate T-shirts.  I don’t like to hear how the sixth grade is voting.   Too often politics turns into the battle of good and evil.  Adults have trouble distinguishing the difference between ideology and character, so how can we expect kids to do it?  

 But I do think it’s important for children to understand political debate.  I remember Marching on Washington, at the Soviet Jewry rally when I was about 10 years old.  I had no idea what Soviet Jewry was.  I thought we were marching for Soviet jewelry, like maybe they had lots of necklaces and earrings over there.   

What I remember from that rally was that we all wore white and that Peter, Paul and Mary sang “If I Had a Hammer” and that it felt good to be surrounded by all those like-minded people singing and cheering.  

What I took away from the rally, was the idea that people like my family marched in the streets for what we believed in.  We didn’t just accept what is, if we didn’t think it was fair.   

I overheard Tashi and Victoria talking this morning.  They were in the next room watching a political Youtube video.   Tashi said, “Is he bad?”  I’m guessing she was pointing to McCain.   

“No Baby,” he’s not bad,” Victoria said,  ”I just like Obama’s ideas better.” 

“What are his ideas?”  

“Well, the main difference, as I understand it, is that Obama wants everyone to share.  McCain thinks people can get what they need on their own,” Victoria said.  ”So I like Obama’s ideas better.” 

“Me too,” Tashi said. 

Victoria did it.  She took the battle of good and evil out of politics.

 I wanted to kiss them both.  

         This and other blogs about parenting can be read on Offsprung.com where I write as Mama La Gringa.