[courtesy of California Progress Report]

By Mary Lyon

Ever since this campaign downshifted into high gear, I've been wishing it was like some sort of Time Traveler's Checkerboard. If we could plug some dynamics of this year into 2000, or 2004, imagine how much less glum we'd all be now, as Americans, and how much less grim our circumstances would be.

I've watched as Hillary Clinton has fought like a tiger throughout the primary season. She and her staffers have at times been ruthless and heavy-handed. Prominent reporters and commentators have been smacked upside the head for perceived transgressions. MSNBC's David Shuster was yanked off the air for a couple of weeks for daring to say something unseemly in reference to Chelsea Clinton. His on-air colleague, Chris Matthews, was deluged with "how DARE you's" from viewers who perceived him as sexist in general and anti-Hillary in particular. Randi Rhodes was pulled from Air America for daring to say unflattering things about Hillary and supporter Geraldine Ferraro during an off-the-air stand-up comedy routine.

I thought that kind of thing only happened to media people who didn't fall in line and stay in line about George W. Bush.

[courtesy of California Progress Report]

By Mary Lyon

After watching Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama slug it out and beat each other up, there is one name that shines for me and still gives me hope. It's neither of the above. It's Howard Dean.

The Pennsylvania primary results make me nervous. I'm in the midst of weighing staying strong for one candidate versus converting to the other, because this unfortunately still looks like a long, miserable, and divisive slugfest. Anyone hoping for a once-and-for-all settlement of who will represent Democrats going into November goes home bruised and disappointed. We're not any closer. On the other hand, it feels like we're farther away from that conclusion than ever. That in turn means Democrats still haven't been able to break through the starting gate and focus on the REAL business at hand: keeping John McCain out of the White House.

So, THANK YOU, Howard Dean. Thank you again. While we're stuck on hold waiting to be transferred either to Hillary or Barack, there is a voice that finally comes on the line. DNC Chairman Howard Dean steps into the void and gives us at least a little something - something more than just canned music while we're forced to wait.

[courtesy of California Progress Report]

By Mary Lyon

A one-sentence comment posted in the blogosphere really nails it. As the political hissy-fit over Barack Obama’s ‘bitter’ remarks continues to heave itself on the floor like some three-year-old tantrum-thrower in the canned soup aisle at the grocery store, a blogger calling herself Lugnut spells it out.

“If you’re not angry and bitter, you’re not paying attention.”

The conditions in this country now, after the GOP has owned the White House for almost eight years, dominated the Senate for most of that time, and the House of Representatives since the mid-90’s (except for the last year-and-a-half), have left America with a serious case of indigestion - at the very least. The bile from years of reckless Republican charging and spending, holding no one accountable for anything, and allowing Wall Street to run amok is indeed leaving a bitter taste in the mouths of Main Street by now.

[courtesy of California Progress Report]

By Mary Lyon

David Petraeus has spoken again. And somehow I feel like I did listening over the years to friends of mine whose dreams were just sure to come true someday, and whose ships were just bound to come in. They were, after all, promised this – over and over and over.

For some of them it was the assurance of that great job off in the distance, if they only played their cards right and put up with a series of indignities and delays. For others it was a married lover who dawdled for years, insisting the divorce was just around the corner, followed by a long‐awaited “happily ever after.”

Time passed. The coveted job was never attained. Some other excuse or twist of fate or competitor or company upheaval always got in the way. The journey down the aisle never happened either. There was always some reason, a good reason for sure, why it couldn’t. After awhile, with each of my disappointed friends, cynicism started to set in. The seemingly never‐ending disappointment became utterly corrosive. Along with the broken hearts and dashed dreams came a grievously violated trust as the reality set in: the carrot will always be dangled just out of reach – and you’ll never quite reach it.

[courtesy of California Progress Report]

By Mary Lyon

Erich Segal, the author of "Love Story," once put the phrase "Love means never having to say you're sorry" into the official collection of favorite American catch-phrases. Up until very recently, we've had to suffer under a latter-day perversion of that: "The 'War on Terror' means never having to say you're sorry." Now, however, comes a series in Slate - - called "Why Did We Get It Wrong," five years after the start of the Iraq War/Invasion/Occupation. Slate invited what it called "the best known 'liberal hawks' and others" to weigh in on that question, five years after they were roaring and stamping their feet to go get Saddam. The compendium makes for some ironic and even sadly amusing reading.

[courtesy of California Progress Report]

By Mary Lyon

The woman stammered. She obviously knew she was still on the air and had to maintain her composure. But it was clear to anyone's ear that she was having a difficult time. Her voice clouded with emotion as she struggled to tell the talk show host and his audience of her story, as a mom whose son was in Afghanistan near the Pakistani border. She hadn't heard from him in weeks. She had just written him an email - "Son, I haven't heard from you in a long time. Are you okay?" And amazingly, she was able to get through that recounting without crying.

I had a harder time. And hey, I have no horse in this race. I AM a mom, however, so in one respect, I have thousands of horses and other beloveds in it. Almost four thousand of them returning to me in long neatly-wrapped, patriotically-covered boxes (because, as we all know but still aren't allowed to see) the wrapping paper on these boxes is always an American flag. We do know that the wrapping paper eventually gets folded up in the finest military precision and handed to the grieving survivor - usually a widow or a mother - as a consolation prize. A party favor to take away from the big event. A lovely parting gift. I'm sure the frantic mom on the radio was terrified at the prospect of being one of those graveside mourners. My heart could only sob for her in her nightmarish uncertainty.

[courtesy of California Progress Report]

By Mary Lyon

"I may not get there with you..."

So said Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., once upon a time, talking about a figurative Promised Land that he himself would indeed never reach. It was a Moses reference, with the Promised Land in this case being the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave - in its most perfect form, evolved, open, transcendent, every inch the land of opportunity for ALL - not just those well-heeled, well-positioned, or exclusively white-skinned. It was a portrait of a Promised Land that he envisioned for everyone in the dream he had for America.

Moses never made the transition to the Biblical Promised Land with his people. It was left to Joshua to lead the Israelites there. Perhaps we in early 21st-Century America have our own latter-day Joshua, finally? Or at least the hint of one?