STOP ME!


It is obvious that I cannot help myself.

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Eight Years and Counting

Today is Jan. 22, 2018. I have been sober for eight years today, and here’s my story.
I first got sober on June 14, 1988. Flag day, for what it’s worth.
At that time I lived in Omaha Nebraska. I went to my first meeting on a Friday night—at the gay and lesbian meeting in the cafeteria of a hospital— “Live and Let Live.”  I just looked them up, and they’re still meeting at 8:15 on Friday nights—sending love to you guys! Thank you!
I became a daily AAer—sometimes more than one a day, but Live and Let Live was my home group, and there I met a group of other young lesbians who became my tribe. Men were welcome to our almost nightly coffee house meetings after the meeting, but the core group was about six women. I was “in the middle of the program” when I was younger. Daily meetings, daily phone calls, hiking together, going out to eat together. . . It was a good time.  During that time, I ended a long-term relationship and had a brief (six month) relationship. All the things you’re no…
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Poetry: Leslie Norris

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The Pit Ponies

The come like the ghosts of horses, shyly, To this summer field, this fresh green, Which scares them. They have been too long in the blind mine, Their hooves have trodden only stones And the soft, thick dust of fine coal, And they do not understand the grass. For over two years their sun Has shone from an electric bulb That has never set, and their walking Has been along the one, monotonous Track of pulled coal-trucks. They have bunched their muscles against The harnass and pulled, and hauled. But now they have come out of the underworld And are set down in the sun and real air, Which are strange to them. They are humble And modest, their heads are downcast, they Do not expect to see very far. But one Is attempting a clumsy gallop. It is Something he could do when he was very young, When he was a little foal a long time ago And he could run fleetly on his long foal's legs, And almost he can remember this. And look, One rolls on her back with joy in the clean grass! And they all, awkwardl…
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The B Word

Remember Elizabeth Dole's comment about Hillary Clinton when both of their husbands were running for president? "I can't say what she is, but it rhymes with 'witch'."

This question is as old as feminism. Why is it that strong, assertive, and most importantly, successful women are called bitches? Why is it that there is no masculine equivalent to that word? Because a strong, assertive, successful man is just a man!

I think Tina Fey may have been taking part in a time-honored tradition: reclaiming an insulting word. Back in the 1980's, lesbians decided that the word lesbian was not an insult, but a neutral descriptor. And dyke? A Dyke is a strong, assertive, political lesbian. If I take that word, you can't hurt me with it. At least that's the idea.

So, for me, Tina Fey was claiming a word that has been used and used and used against women and saying, yes. Yes, I am a bitch. I am a strong, assertive, political woman.

Me too.

Oh, yeah, and she wa…
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