Anarchy Across the Universe

How Did We Get Here ? By Horse, Donkey, Elephant or Camel?

The period between the end of year 2000 and the end of 2002 was quite remarkable in my life. All of us stayed up late in 1999 to watch SNL, and we would laugh our heads off at Will Farrell's impersonation of He-Whose-Name-Must-Not-Be-Mentioned debating Al Gore. If it seemed to be a joke back then, the joke was on me, and on you.

I sat by the TV for days on end, until the Supremes announced Mr. Bush had won the elections. I hold grudges. The Nader crowd, gee, thanks you guys. I'm dripping sarcasm. mimimimimimimi, say the Elephants. Al Gore, what would he have done to save the country after 9/11 ?

Mommy in 2001. Her cancer hit in August, 2003

In January of 2001, after having my tits flattened during a mammogram, I had my first lumpectomy. Don't cry for me, Argentina. In May I went to NYC for a friend's birthday, my closest friend in the world. We went to a building near the WTC: my friend Lizzie, my mommy and I. I never liked the WTC. Nevertheless, I did take pictures of the buildings, feeling idiotic, how many pictures and other tourist memorabilia there were already?

By 9/11, I had had three lumpectomies. My left breast was the size of a lime and my right one the size of a lemon hanging from a lemontree. A cousin calls me early in the morning that day. He tells me I must turn the TV on. WTF%#$%@& ! I comply. The first tower attacked is on fire, the second one is hit. They crumble.

I crumble to the pain of the attack on the city where I was born. I crumble to the memories of name-calling, "Gringa, gringa, yankee go home," as I grew up in Brazil. No anomie, just a feeling of being out of place in either culture, US or Brazilian.

A picture worth a thousand words: I will sue you! Formerly, from Orkut/Google

In November 2001, I underwent my fourth and final lumpectomy. So many women in Mommy's family had had breast cancer; why take chances? My husband and I decided for chop-chop and reconstruction of both breasts. It wasn't this cancer affair the reason for my depression. The deluge of mail from friends condemning the US brought back the taunting children, "Gringa, griga, yankee go home."

Maybe this is me? Palm trees within a high rise

My depression became worse as I sat in front of the TV, listening to brilliant analysis and the 5 x 4 Supremes decision handing the government to the cowboy. It was even sadder when liberal friends sided with the cowboy on his high horses and the Elephant. Maybe a reflex of years of school emergency drills, hiding from the Evil Commies?

On January 14, 2002 my breasts were removed, a DCIS found in the right breast, one of those that go undetected. Our decision had been right. On the first anniversary of 9/11, I had my new breasts. They are soft and I need no bra. Nobody reminded me of 9/11, 2001.

Except for a repeat of fixation on election and news overdose before Kerry didn't take the cake, I know better. Dirty Harry says wisely, "A man's got to know his limitations." I know mine now. No horse, no donkey, no elephant, no camel. And a hope to kick high on our donkeys, kick the elephants out in November...

peace, paz, paix, peace, paz, paix, peace, paz, paix, peace, paz, paix