Jeannine Jordan

Jeannine’s Jottings, November 1, 2024

The 2024 Presidential Election begins in less than twenty-four hours, and I’ve deliberately not said much on social media about my views. Social media is not the way to have nuanced, thoughtful discussion–and I have many friends, family, and acquaintances with differing views and some with a history of aggressive, rude comments. That’s why my Facebook postings are primarily cats and pop culture.

This is my attempt to make my priorities and beliefs clear as I enter into the voting booth.

I’m also not going to attempt to explain what I’m voting against; there’s too much to unravel and list, and—importantly—I am voting FOR a specific worldview and belief system, not simply accepting the least offensive. I’m happy to vote for Harris/Walz, and I support their plans. *

With that said, here is a very incomplete, evolving list of what I’m voting for:

• I believe that people in high office should understand the basic documents that created the US and be committed to the core values, including the idea that we, the people, are in a continual process of creating a more perfect union. Both Harris and Walz have training that shows they understand those documents and can engage in discussion about the merits and flaws of US democracy with a high degree of background knowledge.
• “We, the people” originally excluded many citizens (women, non-land owners, enslaved people, indigenous people) BUT as time passed, we recognized the value of those viewpoints and their right to be included at the table as full members of society. I insist on leadership that chooses to include, not exclude. That means that everyone have rights and opportunities regardless of gender, sex, race, class, and religion. All means all.
• Many of the discussions in recent years have the subtext of scarcity vs plenty. We are in a time of transition, no doubt. Between the twilight of the Industrial Age and climate disruption—which is here, no longer just possible or pending—decades of assumptions about what we have and who should have it (and who should control it) are changing. If we believe that there is a possible shortage of jobs, of good housing, good education, good healthcare—of good people—then grabbing and holding tight to whatever you can get seems reasonable, and choosing leaders who feed those fears by assuring that there will be plenty for the good people is logical.

That’s only if we believe that resources are scarce. I believe that we are a land of plenty. I reject the fear that we can only support specific types of people and a narrow definition of what is “right.” Living up to that requires change, innovation, accepting new ideas and definitions, but we cannot live up to the ideals this country claimed to hold if we allow, even encourage, the few to have while the many go without. I want everyone to be seated at the table, included in the discussions, and invested in the decisions, with the understanding that if we work together, there is enough for everyone.

• I will happily state that billionaires should not exist. Not even Taylor Swift, or whoever your favorite example of a “good” billionaire is. Having a country with rich people, even the super-rich, is different than allowing a system where a handful of people gather ridiculous amounts of wealth at the expense of the society around them. We have turned greed into a virtue. That’s appalling. (How much is a billion dollars? Check this out: https://www.markbrinker.com/how-much-is-a-billion-dollars ) I want highly paid people who are motivated to work hard, and I believe that everyone should be able to make enough to have a place to live that is safe and comfortable, reliable transportation, adequate food, healthcare, and other basic amenities.

Related: calling me a socialist doesn’t bother me in the least. I believe in having a social safety net, and I believe that most of us are one phone call or medical test away from finding that we need support—financial, physical, and emotional. There is enough for everyone; we just need the wisdom to define enough so that greed and hoarding are not rewarded.

• I believe in the scientific process and making decisions based on the best available information. When I research a topic, I understand that there are people who have spent years learning, experimenting, researching, and reconsidering the info that I’m doing a Google or JSTOR search to check out. I want people in charge who consult and rely on expert opinions. I want people in charge to ask hard questions and keep asking until they understand as much as is feasible—and I want them to consider who is sponsoring the information or research, who is paying for it, what their methodology was, and what the core beliefs or assumptions of the researchers and the backers are. Diverse opinions are welcome as long as they will have the deep conversations needed to explain their reasoning and evidence.
• I believe that no one has the right to impose their religious beliefs or morality on others. There are moral beliefs that are generally regarded as superseding religion: Don’t steal. Lying is wrong. Don’t kill—although we can all find exceptions to those, even if we wrap the exceptions in a pretty package of rationalization and context. Those universals are not what I’m focusing on. The hot button cultural issues boil down to people trying to impose their morals or religion on other people, with a generous side helping of judgement. I reject that.

And before anyone tries throwing a Bible at me, I want to mention not just the Sermon on the Mount but remind you that Jesus overturned the tables of the buyers and sellers in the temple, judging them for turning his father’s house into a den of thieves, but he was compassionate to the woman at the well. Whatever you do to the least of us, you do to me suggests that Christians whose energy is focused on gender and sexuality might want to instead consider what den of thieves they have challenged lately.

• I don’t have solutions for immigration or global unrest. I do believe that the US needs immigrants and we are better because of people who have chosen for whatever reason to come here—and I say that understanding that everyone who reads this is the descendant of immigrants, some voluntary, some involuntary. For complex issues such as our borders, war in the Middle East, the Ukrainian invasion, and all sorts of issues like that, I want people who have taken time to understand the history of the myriad issues related to each problem to be involved in finding solutions that are viable, reasonable, and humane. I believe in having experts involved in decision-making, and that means people who have devoted their professional lives to unraveling nuance and are not looking to personally profit from the outcome.
• I want government to be effective, efficient, and not for sale. I want departments run by knowledgeable people working for the public good—and I’m fine with Big Government. I’m not in favor of governmental overreach or pork barrel government, people who work in government to enhance their personal brand or fortune. I have no doubt that Walz understands the assignment, and I have faith that Harris does, too. I believe they will work for the greatest good as they and their capable, qualified staff and advisors see it, not primarily for their own benefit.

This is not an exhaustive list of all the things I believe that impact why I support Harris/Walz. I’m quick to acknowledge that I’m far more cynical than this list suggests—there’s a good chance that my cynicism is tied up with why I can state these premises: I don’t expect any administration to come close to making their stated goals reality. I expect that candidates oversell, omit, and flat out lie. That’s the nature of politics. That’s human nature. Harris/Walz can’t let me down because I expect that they will be unable to do almost all of their agenda.

Here’s where my hidden optimist peeks through: I believe they will try, and barring unforeseen disasters or situations (I’m looking at you, climate change…and possible WW3), they will attempt to make the country better for most people.

*Harris/Walz are not perfect, and I’m not 100% aligned, but that’s usually because I’m more liberal than they are. For instance, I WANT single payer health care (NOT Medicare for All), and I believe it’s possible, if we’re willing to do the work.

Jeannine’s Jottings, April 2024

I could tell you that I totally lost track of the time, and that’s somewhat true; April involved more family time than usual, and I’m trying to adjust to life as a contractor instead of going into the office (my choice–I’m happy with this, but it’s a change). But there were enough evenings when I sat in my recliner watching TV that I can’t truly claim I lost track of time. This newsletter is coming in the beginning of May because the sloth is my spirit animal. Note that according to my shaman, that’s not true, but in practice…the sloth calls my name.

Here are the seven things I’m sharing this month:

1. Rob Lowe!! His podcast Literally! With Rob Lowe is fun. It’s often lightweight, always friendly, but he asks good questions and is engaging. I’m in the middle of his conversation with John Stamos, where they have an interesting and funny conversation about serial killer Richard Rameriz (who was the husband of John’s early manager) and Charles Manson, who Stamos knows stories about since Manson was involved with the Beach Boys. I’ve especially enjoyed his conversations with Robert Downey (you’re surprised, right?), William Shatner, and LeVar Burton.   Fun fact: Lowe came to Lima Senior and met with about 20 members of Student Government in 1997 or 98, when he was campaigning for Michael Dukakis. I was the advisor with Student Government, so I chatted with him for a few moments. I thoroughly enjoyed the short time he spent in the old LSH library. This was shortly before his sex tape was made public, which led to a lot of conversation with my students. 

2. While I’m on the subject of podcasts, here are three more I enjoy: Alan Alda’s Clear and Vivid,Samantha Bee’s Choice Words, and More Perfect, by RadioLab.  Alda’s focuses on communication, especially relating to science, and it’s always fascinating. He asks the questions I would ask if I were talking to whoever he’s interviewing. Bee is fun, with a focus on issues and how people make decisions. Her conversations with Nick Offerman and June Diane Raphael were especially interesting. And More Perfect–a couple times a month, I remember when I decided to not go to law school. More Perfect is about the Supreme Court, and it feeds the part of me that wants to research and write opening and closing statements. In a parallel universe, I’m a lawyer. 

3. I’m old enough to clearly remember the campus unrest of the late 60s and early 70s, and to remember the actual riots in Lima.  As I read the news about protests at colleges now, I know that if I were much younger, I’d be at the protests. I fervently hope that hypothetical young JJ would recognize that although obvious war crimes are happening in Gaza, the issues aren’t simple. I believe in a two-state solution–but I quickly admit that my understanding of the totality of the Middle East is lacking. The simple slogans about leaving Viet Nam and loving your neighbor don’t fit millenia of issues, and don’t solve anti-semitism or any other form of racism. I don’t have answers. Young JJ did–that’s the tragedy of aging.

4. “Create more than you consume.” That challenge showed up in some social media meme recently, attributed to Jeff Bezos. He apparently said that in his 2020 letter to shareholders. When I start looking, though, the phrase seems to predate Bezos. I don’t create more than I consume, and I have felt guilty about that. After considering it, though, I’ve decided that it’s another of the phrases that sounds deep, but isn’t even aspirational. We are consuming culture all of our waking hours. I won’t apologize for that–I do consume more, and it fertilizes when I do create. The challenge, for me at least, is to create as much as I can, as often as I can, instead of using pop culture as a soporific. 

5. I’m aware of why people shouldn’t drink soft drinks–or pop, as I call it to the amusement of my Southern friends. For quite a few years, I didn’t, and I dropped weight more easily than I expected. Then…covid and retirement and Pepsi and I restarted our close personal relationship. In the last two weeks, I’ve decided to quit drinking pop (again), but damn…there are moments….it’s probably accurate to say that pop and swearing are my two most frequent vices.

6. May the Fourth Be With You–one of my favorite days is coming. I have several different shirts to choose from. Oddly, I’m going to a Kentucky Derby party that evening; I’ve bought a hat and I’ll be all fancy. Sort of–it’s still me. The question of whether I worked in a Star Wars tribute to my Kentucky Derby outfit was a consideration, but I don’t think I am. 

7. Poem I want to share: When You Are Old, by Keats  read here by Colin Farrell. Song I want to share: Drive, by Incubus. Yes, it’s older, but it’s been chasing me lately and is my theme song for year 65. Another song that’s been chasing me is even older: The BeeGees’ Nights on Broadway,  I could explain, but you’d think I’ve been doing ‘shrooms. 

That’s all for April. I’ve deliberately limited this to things that were part of April. My birthday is in May, so it’s possible that the May newsletter will be ripe with ruminations about turning 65…but that’s not yet. Nope, I’m still barely bloomed. Not nearly old enough for Medicare.

Have a great month! Jeannine

Jeannine’s March Newsletter

I know it’s nearly the end of the month, but I’m going to hit “send” before April 1. And honestly, I doubt that any of you are compulsively checking your inbox and wondering why you haven’t gotten my March missive.

I’m equally positive that you’re elated to receive it, of course.

Sharing seven things—thoughts, memories, pieces of writing, randomness—that’s my goal. Let’s dive in:

1.        This month has been unprecedented several ways. Here’s the catch: even though my time and energy have been dramatically impacted, even though the things that have happened have long-term implications for my family and me, none of the stories are mine to tell.

Not unless the others involved—the protagonists—tell first, and none of them have made their stories general knowledge on social media. The family grapevine, yea. I have an uncle who assumes all stories are his to tell. Back when paying for long distance calls were a thing, his phone bill was probably his biggest expense.

But over the years, between an embarrassingly difficult marriage and a lot of interesting  (in the curse sense of the word) life situations, I came to the conclusion that I can only talk about my stories, my situations, and only so far as it doesn’t call out people who don’t want their role in it told.

When I was at a retreat this past summer, I was talking with Father Nathan Monk, an author & defrocked priest, about this. He has written autobiographical pieces that pissed off his family and the church, so this issue—the “who can tell the story” question—is one he’s grappled with. His solution is to only tell the truth as he experienced it; he doesn’t extrapolate other people’s stories, but he’s also not responsible for saving their feelings, memories ,and reputations from the truth he lived.

Damn, that sounds nice, doesn’t it? Neat and tidy, a clear philosophy. At this point in my life, I can’t do that. I’ve become a Secret-Keeper (which is a part of Harry Potter than resonant with me).

There’s a chance, a good chance, actually, that part of the reason I’ve embraced writing poetry at this point in my life is that I can tell the truth, but tell it slant. (Extra credit if you know whose work I pulled from for that phrase.)

Here’s the truth I can tell: I’m emotionally tired. This month has led me to contemplate how closed I am emotionally, and how emaciated my emotional vocabulary is. And that’s even as I admit that I haven’t been through a fraction of what others have been.

2.        Before I go to lighter topics, here’s a poem I discovered that is speaking to me: “Infirmity,” by Theodore Roethke. The lines that hit me hardest when I read it: “How body from spirit slowly does unwind/Until we are pure spirit at the end.”  I have an idea for a flash fiction piece based on that line.  (Flash fiction: a short piece, probably 1000 words or less)

3.        I FINISHED WEST WING. It’s worthy. The last season and a half of it, that was all I was watching in the evening. And—to speak my own truth—I started rewatching it the next night. Only an episode every few days, but I am rewatching. Spoiler ahead: If you’ve seen it, you know that one of the scandals of Bartlet’s administration was that he didn’t reveal that he had a form of MS when he was running for president and that by the end, he was frequently using a cane. What I didn’t realize until I rewatched the first episode stunned me: our first view of Bartlet, he was using a cane because of a bicycling accident. The second episode, he is being “routinely” checked by a doctor in the Oval Office—we don’t get a reason why. From the beginning, Sorkin was writing it to foreshadow and prepare us for when we found out that the president had a physical issue.

4.        I read James, by Percival Everett this week. It’s The Adventures of Huck Finn from Jim’s point of view. I’m embarrassed that I hadn’t been acquainted with Everett’s work until recently. I won’t give any spoilers since it’s so new, but I will say that it is not simply a retelling of Finn’s story. The narrative is compelling, the writing strong, and I’m still thinking about it days later.

5.        What I’ve been listening to: Sam Bee’s podcast, “Choice Words;” Alan Alda’s podcast, “Clear and Vivid;” RadioLab’s “More Perfect” (about Supreme Court decisions—I totally geek out). Musically: Paul Simon’s Seven Psalms and Stevie Wonder’s Songs in the Key of Life have been on repeat, but I had a couple days of The Best of the Drifters.

A guilty pleasure has also been YouTube videos of supergroup events, like a herd of Hall of Famers playing “While My Guitar Gently Weeps,” and similar things from The Concert for George, Rock and Roll Hall of Fame events, etc. ALSO—the show that’s streaming about the making of “We Are The World” – The Greatest Night in Pop on Netflix—captivated me twice.

And no, I haven’t done the deep dive to listen to Taylor Swift and see why she’s popular. I keep saying I’m going to, but I haven’t heard anything from her that compels me to do that.

However, Beyonce’s country album—I am going to listen to that tomorrow. I’m tired tonight.

6.        What I’m currently drinking: Buffalo Trace. It’s good. What I’m trying not to drink: Pepsi. I quit it for years; why did I start again??

7.        My upcoming fun: this weekend my gaming group is doing character generation for our next Dungeons & Dragons adventure—and I’m the Dungeon Master! We’re doing a basic plot from one of the official adventures, which is less by-the-seat-of-my-pants homebrew than I’ve done before. It’s a challenge I’m looking forward to, and I always enjoy game night!

Till next month—Jeannine

Jeannine’s Jottings, Feb 2024

Welcome to the inaugural issue of my newsletter! When I was at a writing workshop last summer, the keynote speakers emphasized the importance of having both an author’s website and a regular newsletter. I have a website (more than one, actually), and now I’m taking the plunge into a monthly newsletter. This month, I’m composing it in gmail, but I’m feeling visually stifled, so the process is still in process. 

My plan is simple: every month, share seven things that I’ve been reading, watching, doing, or thinking about in my newsletter. Why seven? Simple: that’s my birthdate and obviously the best number.

1.       West Wing for the Win! Yes, I know the show is more than twenty years old, and I watched it (or at least the first 4 seasons) when it was on. Aaron Sorkin is one of my favorite writers/producers/whatever he is. Even though I don’t remember much beyond when Rob Lowe left the show, my son told me about plot points that I’d talked about with him—namely, John Goodman’s fantastic cameo as the speaker of the Republican House. My son obviously knew details that he said came from me, so…I’d seen that before but forgotten. I’m currently on Season 5; at the rate I’m going, I’ll be done well before Easter. I’ve been watching Scandal, Northern Exposure, and Madame Secretary, too, but West Wing is my current obsessive binge. That also explains why I’ve rewatched or planning rewatches of A Few Good  Men, St. Elmo’s Fire, and The American President.  (Yes, I know I’m currently fixated on old shows. That is undoubtedly a phase.)

Something I tried to watch but didn’t hit me: The Bear. I’m fairly sure that I’ll try it again  sometime and I’ll love it, but right now…meh.

2.     I’ve been experimenting with different forms of poetry. I like villanelles (you may know “Do Not Go Gentle,” which is an example), and I’ve recently written a contrapuntal poem (you almost certainly haven’t run into this type) and a triolet  (which you probably haven’t run into, either). I didn’t know either of those forms before being introduced to them by members of the Tremont Institute poetry workshop that I went to last fall.  Since I’m planning to submit them for possible publication, I’m not going to share the ones I’ve written in this newsletter yet. After they’ve been rejected, I will.

3.       This month, I read Angel Landing by Alice Hoffman and Our Missing Hearts by Celeste Ng last week. Angel Landing was good, but I have to admit I don’t remember much about it—it was a relaxing, escapist read for me.  Our Missing Hearts was excellent and I’m still thinking about it. Of course, I tend to like dystopian lit, and this book qualifies—but instead of a futuristic, bright-n-shiny scary future, this vision is all too realistic and possible, grounded in a timeline that is very imaginable. I’m currently reading Shutter, by Ramona Emerson, about a Native American crime scene photographer who sees and talks with ghosts and The Coldest Winter Ever by Sister Souljah (I have that one in a printed copy, which means I have to have it with me to read it. The others have all been on my Kindle, which means reading anywhere, anytime. Have I mentioned that I love technology…usually?) I also read a couple escapist genre books, but I don’t remember those titles. They were like potato chips–good and crunchy while I was reading them, but not a real meal.

4.       I’m thrilled with the reception and turnout we had at Artspace for the Poetry Reading for River and Rust, the poetry anthology I co-edited. Even with lousy weather, the chairs were full. The one part of the night that baffled me: for the first time in years, literally, I wore a dress, yet apparently, no one photographed me. Everyone else is featured in multiple shots, but me…nope. There is one video of me from the side, but it doesn’t give any indication of the level of snazziness I attained.

5.       One of my favorite things about technology: calendars! Shared calendars, calendar reminders, the ability to set up multiple calendars that all show up in the same app. AND I can color code! That makes everything better. I use Google Calendars for the basics, but I have an app called CallenGoo on my phone syncing with Google. I like that interface better on the small screen.

6.       I’ve been stuck on my rewrite of my urban fantasy, The Willow at the Edge. I think—maybe—I’ve gotten through the place where I was stuck, and it’s much better. I’m still planning on self-publishing it this year. The fact that I’d overcommitted  myself on other projects is also a big factor in being stuck. Pro tip: You have to sit down at the computer with the manuscript open in order to rewrite. The plot centers on a music contest, sort of a battle of the bands, so I’ve created a playlist that includes all the pieces of music that are mentioned in the story (so far). You can hear my playlist here.  

7.       Want to hear my new favorite joke? What’s the rudest thing you can say to a dinosaur? Wish on a falling star!

OH–and the question on the sign up form about whether a caveman or astronaut would win in a fight?? Only ONE person would bet on the astronaut. It’ll be interesting to see if that changes as (if) more people sign up! 

 This isn’t the real, final cover for “The Willow at the Edge”–it’s one I designed while procrastinating. But it’s the vibe I want. 

That’s all for this month. I’m still in the process of fine-tuning my websites: jeanninejordan.com and  meanderingbard.com. You can find information there about the book River and Rust, and about hiring me as a coach or for editing.  You’re welcome to respond to this newsletter! If you don’t want to receive subsequent newsletters, simply drop me a line and I’ll take you off my list.