Categories
Opinion The Last Word

Say ‘Thank You’

Dear friend, I am writing to you from my native city and home, Memphis, Tennessee. It is an easy Sunday morning complete with blue skies and sunshine. The temperature is a balmy 70 degrees. Will it remain easy? Not sure. As I write, the U.S. presidential election is two days away. To stay hopeful in this season of rampant misinformation and uncivilized politics, my steady focus is on “thanks-giving.” Despite the rising cost of food and the outcome of the election, I trust that Americans who believe in democracy will still rise up this November to prepare joyful fellowships of feasting for family, friends, and the unhoused. No matter who wins on November 5th, I am believing that no one will steal or kill our spirt of gratitude for what remains good, generous, and kind. Remember the marching activists during the American Civil Rights Movement? They sang, “Ain’t gonna let nobody turn me around!” This must be our battle cry. In our homes and on the job, we must vow to be active expressions of gratefulness, even if we stand alone doing so.   

When I was a small child, I saw the power of gratitude modeled in the life of my godmother, Lucile Brazil Thompson, a valued employee at the local Buckman Laboratories. Whenever I gave Mama ’Cile a gift, she would mail a thank you note that was stamped and addressed to me. It was exciting to receive her travel postcards and thank-you notes because mail in my name made me feel grown and her words of gratitude made me feel appreciated. I loved to share gifts with Mama ’Cile because ultimately, I received the gift of a thank you note. 

Before I could spell well or write cursive letters, my mother Earline Duncan made me compose handwritten thank you cards when I received personal gifts. As a small child, I enjoyed receiving the cards, but I did not enjoy writing them. I would cry loudly, “Mama! I wanna use the telephone.” 

A quick call on one of those big black rotary phones did not suit my godmother’s standard of decorum and a phone call was not Earline Duncan’s favorite expression of gratitude, either. My mother would scold me and say, “When somebody takes precious time to buy you a gift, you should take precious time to write them a note.” I would grumble and push through the task, making sure to write complete sentences in my large block letters.

Composing personalized thank-you notes with gel pens and USPS Black Heritage Stamps is now a lifelong habit for me. No gift exchange is complete on my part until I have formally expressed my gratitude with a card and postage stamp. She is dead now but to my mother’s point, when a person spends money or time to offer me a kindness, I think it is good manners to reciprocate the sacrifice and serve them joy with a written acknowledgement that is more engaging and lasting than a quick text, phone call, or silence. 

In the tradition of Mama ’Cile and Earline Duncan, I encourage people to purchase greeting cards and postage before they need them. Keep a stash of stationery and stamps on deck especially during the winter holidays when there is a constant surge of giving and receiving gifts. In this way, you will be poised to make your thankful expressions promptly. The challenge to stop your routine and go buy stamps or cards will not exist. 

This idea of gratitude brings me back to the election. By the time you receive this missive from me, America will have a new president. And most likely, you will be planning your Thanksgiving gathering or attending one. Despite the election outcome, think about the good in life that remains and allow thoughts of gratitude to fill your heart with hope. 

Gratitude, like love, requires action. Therefore, make expressions of “thanks-giving” a constant part of your days. Refuse silence, discouragement, and giving-up. Acknowledge your blessings in thoughts, words, and deeds. Gratitude elevates the mood. It is a winning attitude. Say thank you. 

Alice Faye Duncan writes for children. She is the author of fourteen books including I Gotta Sing and Yellow Dog Blues. She will sign books Saturday, November 30th, at the Butterific Bakery & Café. Her website alicefayeduncan.com.

Categories
Opinion The Last Word

Where Did My Rose-Breasted Grosbeak Go?

“Wow, that is one honking big sparrow,” my wife said, peering out our bedroom window and into the backyard. The bird in question — a mottled, dun-colored songbird — perched on one of our backyard bird feeders, occasionally munching on safflower seeds, and staring into the middle distance in a way that I’m sorely tempted to describe as “uncanny.” It dwarfed the little song sparrows and fox sparrows hopping amid the fallen seeds and shells beneath the feeder.

The next morning, there were more of the birds. 

It wasn’t until the red-throated, black-and-white males of the species showed up that we realized we weren’t being invaded by massive sparrows, but were dealing with a different kind of creature altogether. So, after consulting our handy, dandy Birds of Tennessee Field Guide (Adventure Publications), we realized that our backyard had become a migratory pitstop for rose-breasted grosbeaks, on their way south and west from East Tennessee in early autumn. 

Photo: Brian Kelly | Unsplash

By this time of year, now that our clocks have fallen back an hour, after the leaves aren’t just turning but falling, the grosbeaks have gone. They’re in Central and South America, far from any, ah, shall we say “North American concerns” that may be troubling the rest of us left behind in Memphis. 

This time of year is truly one of change, when the world feels poised on the brink of something, hesitating before the charge into new seasons. Some of those changes are human-made — the grosbeaks, rose-breasted or otherwise, have no use for clocks and time zones and Daylight Saving Time. Their bodies tell them when to fly and where to stop. Elections, though they have far-reaching consequences on the natural world, won’t keep a blue jay or mourning dove up all night, stress-drinking, doom-scrolling, and refreshing a vote count. The raccoons who steal black-oil sunflower seed from my birdfeeders by the fistful are also blissfully ignorant of politics. 

Lucky them, right? 

There is also the headlong holiday rush from Halloween to New Year’s Eve, and though its onset always leaves me anxiously checking and rechecking my bank balance, it also brings the excitement of friend and family reunions, of kids’ surprised smiles. The Pink Palace Crafts Fair and the Corn Maze give way to the Enchanted Forest and Starry Nights. Zoo Boo precedes Zoo Lights. 

Evening shadows lengthen and come sooner, as autumn sunsets yield to lengthening night earlier with each passing day. Fallen leaves crunch underfoot; squirrels scurry from tree to tree, increasingly frantic as winter’s onset draws near. Everything prepares to hunker down for the cold. 

I thought about the grosbeaks — and our other seasonal visitors, in spring and autumn both — as I walked this week. The reminder of the natural world, with its reassuring certainty of cycles of warmth and cold, has been a source of comfort and inspiration both. Those polite birds have yet to overstay their welcome. I never worry about the peaceful transition of power from autumn to winter. (Though winter to spring often feels anything but certain when mid-February rolls around, but that’s a topic for another day.)

It seems telling to me that I have yet to reopen Facebook since November 5, 2024, but I feel called to walking trails, parks, and other public greenspaces. Some inner voice, quiet but persistent, is pushing me toward interactions that nourish the soul. In this time of uncertainty, change, and mind-numbing existential dread, I’m especially thankful for that inclination to step outside, instead of reaching for the junk food dopamine hit of social media. The smell of decomposing leaf litter on an urban forest trail is far more palatable to me right now. 

If, like me, you have rushed toward natural rhythms as a source of comfort, then I can only say that soon we will have to return the favor for Mother Nature. Even the usually staid AP Times sounds downright alarmist on the impending second term of former President Donald Trump, with a new piece by Jennifer McDermott and Matthew Daly warning that the President-elect’s planned rollbacks could be a serious hurdle to green energy measures. So, to everyone else whose comfort place is Overton Park, I say now is our time to shine. We should look to our local leaders, especially those with environmental experience, like Rep. Justin J. Pearson, recently re-elected to District 86. Memphis Community Against Pollution, Protect Our Aquifer — these folks’ fight is about to get harder, and they need our help. 

In the meantime, I’m going to take a walk, crunch some leaves, and touch some damn grass. 

Jesse Davis is a former Flyer staffer; he writes a monthly Books feature for Memphis Magazine. His opinions, such as they are, are his own and not the fault of his overworked editor. 

Categories
Opinion The Last Word

Memphis Is My Boyfriend: Life Skills 

I’ve heard that a parent’s goal is to raise their kids to be independent and not reliant upon them. While I wholeheartedly believe this, sometimes I wonder if any of my life lessons are sinking in. My kids are 11, 12, 12, and 16, and sometimes I have to remind them of bare care necessities. But if I had to teach them three life lessons, they would be: know when to step away, how to have your own relationship with God, and how to fix things. 

Life Balance

My kids work really hard in school. Some of them work hard on their academics, while others work hard on their social skills. In between PSATs, constructing cell cities, reading How to Kill a Mockingbird, and illustrating the water cycle, I noticed that the kids got … quiet. They came home and immediately withdrew and went to their own spaces. When I tried to engage them in conversation, I was met with short, one-word replies. Then it dawned on me. I haven’t really emphasized the importance of stepping away before everything becomes too much. So I decided to tap into their inner child. Children love two things: parks and snacks. In the middle of the week, I left work early to pick the kids up from school and bypassed all the aftercares. All of the kids were excited, with the exception of my high-schooler — I intruded on his hangout-time with his girlfriend. Nevertheless, we loaded the car and picked up a few sweet treats. Our first stop was Sugar Ghost Ice Cream and Bubble Tea. The kids got ice cream, but I had my eyes on another treat. Second stop, Muddy’s Bake Shop! I initially went in for a Rice Krispies treat (best in the city), but I couldn’t turn down a gingerbread man or two. We bagged our treats and headed to Overton Park, where we laid out our picnic blankets and … breathed. The kids ate and began to chat. I took this time to explain the importance of “stepping away.” And here’s the advice they would like to share when life gets tough:

• Play videos: It’s nice to play games. You get to be in control of everything.

• Make videos: It’s just fun. 

• Go outside: Nature sounds good and the breeze is nice.

• Get your emotions out: Even if it’s loud.

Life Church: Axis

I first became interested in Life Church because I was looking for a group of women I could speak with about life and the Bible. During my research, I learned about Axis. Axis is a tweens/teens ministry, but I wasn’t unsure about the logistics. After visiting one Sunday, I got a text from a “Maybe: Josh.” That’s literally what it said on my caller ID. He stated that Axis is a time for just teens. And I replied, “So I can send the kids to Axis and enjoy a date night?” “Maybe: Josh” said, “Absolutely! I encourage it!” 

So we packed up the Lockhart tweens and teen and headed to Axis. Upon arriving, I noticed they had a variety of dads on the grill, groups of teens hanging out, and some playing catch with Pastor Josh. The atmosphere seemed relaxed. As we walked up, we were approached by Pastor Josh. He said, “Hey! You’re who I’ve been texting with!” Ahhhhh, okay, so it wasn’t a bot. 

Pastor Josh gave the kids a quick introduction which consisted of: We have snacks, video games, and …well, actually that’s as far as he got before the kids said “cool” and walked into the building. 

After picking up the kids two hours later, their eyes were wide! They enjoyed themselves, but it was a little shocking for them too. “That’s not like any church I’ve been to!” “Yeah. I’ve never been to a concert before, but I’m sure that should count as my first one!” Once we were home, the Lockhart teen and tweens talked amongst themselves. They decided to go back, but with one addendum: Although the Axis service doesn’t start until 7 p.m., they need to arrive at 6 p.m., for playing purposes. 

And just like that, Axis became a vital space for my kids to be themselves, deepen their faith, and build friendships. They made friends, developed their own style of worship, and found a place they can serve and be leaders. 

Life Skills

The last life skill is the ability to fix what you’ve broken. My daughter is a little bit of a mad scientist. She loves mixing things. There’s still a white stain on her wall that feels oddly soft, and her carpet is permanently ruined. That’s why we told her all science stuff, including the making of slime, must be completed in the dining room. We did not anticipate the damage this would have on our dining room table. My hubby thought that this would be a great learning opportunity. He and our daughter went to Home Depot and bought supplies to refurbish the dining room table. And now she knows how to use a sander and restain wood! 

Patricia Lockhart is a native Memphian who loves to read, write, cook, and eat. By day, she’s an assistant principal and writer, but by night … she’s asleep. @memphisismyboyfriend

Categories
Opinion The Last Word

Walking? In Memphis?

A walk can be many things. You can have a lovely stroll in the woods on a nice autumn day; you could be going to a friend’s house to play or gossip; or, you may even walk just for walking’s sake. But for many folks, me included, walking is their one and only form of transportation — especially without buses and trolleys available.

The trolleys of Memphis used to run from East Memphis, near the college, all the way down to the river. Along the river, it ran the span of North to South Memphis. Nowadays, if you want to get through any of those neighborhoods, you either have to walk the length of the city or become car-dependent. The last remaining trolley, the Main Street Line, has been shut down by the city, and with it, accessibility for anyone without a car Downtown.

Honestly, Memphis is beautiful when you walk its streets. I have seen families growing up and trees blooming over the years. Infrastructure rising and falling. Businesses coming and going, new youthful energy rushing into those spaces like birds to their nests. But I’ve also seen the sidewalks get torn up from mismanagement. I’ve seen streetlights go dim and then finally off for good. And I’ve seen the rusting rails of our once magnificent trolley lines.

I could rant and rave of course about how frustrating it feels to be so closed-off from my communities, land-locked to Midtown. But even when I want to walk in the other areas of Memphis, it’s much more difficult than I remember. Out east and beyond, every road is meant for cars and traffic. Over by White Station, the intersection might as well be nonexistent. Forget trying to see a movie at Paradiso. 

Downtown is almost no better. Constant construction means diverging pathways for any visitor to those streets, sometimes well out of the way of anywhere you want to go. And the only surprisingly easy pathway is along Tom Lee Park, by the bluffs. Credit where credit is due: The switchback installed by the city is one nice treat for any pedestrian. But god knows if you are disabled, that hill is still a nightmare.

Now, I feel like I should specify that when I say pedestrian I mean anyone who doesn’t drive or cannot drive. That includes my disabled neighbors. That includes my friends and family who shake behind the wheel of the car and realize that they’d be more a danger on the road than off it. That especially includes those who walk to combat climate change, to try our damndest to lower emission levels, even by a smidgen. For us, it feels like survival of the fittest on these streets.

My colleague Alyssa Wolf has a project she’s working on, researching the affordability of Memphis housing. One thing she’s included on her list is a “walk-score.” How close are you to the nearest stores; how rough is the terrain outside your home; how close are you to any other city infrastructure? Let’s just say, in her research, she has found more disappointment than relief.

What else can be said? I’m mad about how MATA got its funding cut. Mad about how the trolley lines sit there, unused. I used to live in Portland before moving back home. There was a lot I had trouble with in that city, but the trolleys and rails led everywhere. Trains connected the airport to Downtown to a suburb called Beaverton, their version of Germantown. I saw a future for Memphis’ public transportation.

Instead, the Memphis City Government has decided to, on November 3rd, eliminate five major routes. One of those routes is to and from the airport (Route 28). When I was a tutor, I took Route 50 to and from the sessions. Seeing that that route was not on the chopping block was a slight relief. But my heart goes out to the people who need the Southeast Circulator (16) and Winchester Route (69) to get from the Greyhound station to Downtown. Or those who live along the Perkins Route (37) who use it to get to and from their jobs like I once did. And then there’s the sister route to 50 along Central that I’m sure a lot of Cooper-Young residents and university students could rely on to get to and fro.

I am home, yet trapped in my town. So many of my fellow citizens are. It was agreeable with the bus routes (when buses would come) at the very least, but not ideal. I have only seen my city go backwards when it comes to how well it treats its citizens and especially its pedestrians, us unlucky few who simply want a good life. No matter what our reason to stroll, whether its to go to the store, get to work, or even to enjoy the day, we should be able to do it comfortably and safely. 

William Smythe is a local writer and poet. He writes for Focus Mid-South, an LGBT+ magazine.

Categories
Opinion The Last Word

Captain Chaos

For me, Donald J. Trump died as a public figure in November 2015, the day he mocked a reporter for a physical disability. During a campaign rally. No one that morally bankrupt — clearly with an empathy tank running on empty — belongs in a CEO’s office, much less the White House. Everything that’s happened around Trump over the nine years since has been kicking a dead horse. And there’s not room on this page to review the impeachments (multiple), indictments (multiple), and improprieties (myriad) that make Trump the most dangerous candidate for president in this country’s history.

Yet here we are. A lying, racist felon is the best the Republican Party can do. And if seven “battleground” states shake down in Trump’s electoral-college favor, the 45th president of the United States will become the 47th. Should he win, make note, Donald Trump will be inaugurated on Martin Luther King Day next January. Thinking back to the public mocking of that reporter, such a coincidence is unsettling and appalling to consider. 

The question that keeps me in twists: Why? In the age of #MeToo, how has a man like Trump managed not to get canceled? What kind of standard do men see in him? And how can a solitary woman consider him an agent for their interests? The closest I’ve come to an answer: They love to break things.

Millions of Americans today don’t just dislike organized federal government, they resent it. The three branches our founding fathers drew up create a structure that has, in the minds of millions, restricted their freedoms instead of creating those freedoms in the first place. (Challenge a Trump supporter to name the three branches. It’s a cringe-worthy bar trick.) After generations of one Democrat after another, then one Republican after another, simply steering the federal ship forward — fair weather or foul — millions of Americans want that ship at least rocked, if not sunk. Donald Trump is Captain Chaos. (My apologies to the late Dom DeLuise and a very fun character in The Cannonball Run.) 

The trouble with chaos in our system, though, is that people get hurt. And people die. Whether it’s outlawing abortion, dividing immigrant families at the border, or slicing FEMA funding, human beings get caught in Trump’s ongoing performance art. (Ask the Republican nominee what FEMA stands for and wait for the head tilt.) And when he takes the lies up a notch — “They’re eating the dogs!” — human beings become targets for hate and violence. Those millions of Americans supporting Trump feel they’ve been targeted long enough. It’s time to target them. Time to target others. And yes, it’s pure racism. If you deny the notion that you’re racist, but you support a racist candidate for public office, guess what?

What would happen in a second Trump presidency? I have a prediction: Within a year of resuming office, Trump would step down or “retire.” (He’d never use the word “resign.” That suggests quitting, and he’s no loser.) This is a man who was incompetent on his best day as president and now shows decline in his faculties and whatever might have passed for mental acuity. Sharks, batteries, and Pennsylvania windmills. Those behind Project 2025 will find a way to make President Vance America’s new problem. Stormy seas be damned.

I remain a believer in decency, and I feel like our better instincts as a people will prevail. But over the last nine years I’ve learned how long, in fact, it will take to achieve that form of normalcy, how challenging it is to go from “us” and “them” to “we.” A con man managed to convert a political party into a cult, here in 21st century America. Until a liar’s again called a liar, tension will be part of this country’s political oxygen. And yes, so will chaos. 

Frank Murtaugh is the managing editor of Memphis Magazine. He writes the columns “From My Seat” and “Tiger Blue” for the Flyer.

Categories
Opinion The Last Word

I Miss Those Crazy Birds

The hummingbird swooped down and hovered above a butterfly bush, undaunted by the strong winds and rain. Almost on cue, a second tiny bird zoomed in to deny the interloper a chance at a sweet meal. The two hummingbirds performed a sort of airborne ballet, twirling and spinning in the wind, while fanning their tail feathers to make themselves look larger and more menacing.

Eventually, the trespasser retreated and the second hummer, a female, jockeyed for position on a narrow branch of that same flowering bush. She periodically rose, helicopter-like, just inches above the branch to deliver a warning — chirping and chittering — that intruders were not welcome.

Safe and dry behind the trellised wall of our carport, I watched the aerial combat take place just few feet away as the remnants of Hurricane Francine crashed and thrashed its way throughout the Mid-South. A few days later, Francine, now a low-pressure system, continued to subside. My better half Vicki and I spent a good portion of a wet Sunday morning watching the little birds swoop and twirl — more aerial combat and mid-air ballet.

“Cheap entertainment,” she said with a smile.

“Cheep or cheap?” I asked.

She laughed at my dumb pun. Two hummingbirds zipped past our kitchen’s picture window.

“Crazy birds,” Vicki proclaimed.

Crazy birds, indeed, and I miss them after they’ve moved on.

Hummingbirds as reincarnated warriors (Photo: Ken Billett)

I’ve always been fascinated by hummingbirds, who seemingly defy gravity and conventional aerodynamics in search of a meal and more fuel for their long journey south to remote tropical rainforests. But I also admire these tiny creatures for their perseverance, their tenacity, and their strength. Years ago, I participated in an expressive writing course for cancer survivors and wrote a fictional short story about an old man coming to terms with his own death. He found strength and peace in the hummingbirds and their return, year after year, to his backyard garden. The old man recounted a mythical belief regarding his tiny visitors — that the ancient Aztec people revered hummingbirds for both their colorful beauty and their powerful flight. They believed brave warriors — killed in battle — were reincarnated as hummingbirds.

Maybe our hummers come back every summer to remind me of those wonderful brave warriors no longer here, who can no longer experience a warm, pleasant June morning, or breathe in the fresh air rolling across the green grasses of Shelby Farms Park, or watch a brilliant orange sunset from the banks of the Mississippi River.

Tiny, fluttering reminders that, as the seasons change, we continue moving forward even when our journey becomes difficult.

Or, perhaps, our hummingbirds — we refer to them as “our hummingbirds” while they’re here — return each year simply driven by instinct. We make our backyard inviting to them, with several red-colored feeders and lots of flowering plants. Our next-door neighbor’s wooded backyard provides the birds with shelter and safety. For those “little daredevils,” our gardens are a convenient rest stop along their migratory path. But maybe there’s more to it than just instinct. Regardless, I’ll miss those crazy birds once they’re gone even as I deeply miss my fellow warriors who’ve fallen in battle with a terrible disease.

For two weeks, constant chirping and chittering greeted me anytime I stepped outside and onto our backyard patio. Hummingbirds zooming overhead, fluttering around the feeders, and dive-bombing one another were also constants. I was involved in a few near misses as hummers chased each other through our carport and back up to the trees. As the number of hummingbirds increased, so too did the number of airborne skirmishes. I loved every moment of it.

Our tiny guests were hungry and relentless in their search for a meal. With the days growing shorter, both the humans and the little birds knew summer was coming to an end. Soon those crazy birds would be gone, leaving behind joyful memories, until next year, when a “scout” arrives, usually in April, to check out the food supply situation in our backyard.

A week or so later, summer had officially ended and most of the hummingbirds were gone. We figured they left in a hurry as more rain and wind, this time from Hurricane Helene, made its way towards the Mid-South. The feeders sat empty, while the flowering bushes were commandeered by the remaining butterflies, along with a few honeybees.

I already missed those crazy birds.

For me, hummingbirds symbolize hope and strength. Their survival is intertwined with my own, as being a “survivor” can be difficult at times. Like the old man in my short story, I’m at peace when the little birds return to our backyard each summer. They’re tiny reminders that, even with tenacity and perseverance, the journey is never easy and we must continue to keep the spirit of those fallen warriors in our hearts. 

Ken Billett is a freelance writer and short-story author. An 11-year cancer survivor, Ken is a nationally recognized advocate for skin cancer prevention and melanoma treatment research. He and his wife Vicki have called Memphis home for nearly 35 years. 

Categories
Opinion The Last Word

Gender’s Role in Electing Presidents

Vice President Kamala Harris’ dramatic entry into the presidential race in July — including selecting Minnesota Governor Tim Walz as her running mate — put a new twist on the already gendered nature of the election. A woman was now at the top of the ticket.

Instead of Donald Trump’s and JD Vance’s misogynist manhood solely driving the media narrative, there was now a new storyline: Not only was a Black, South Asian woman the nominee; there also was a counternarrative — the egalitarian expression of manhood embodied by Walz and Doug Emhoff.

From the GOP convention theme song, “It’s a Man’s World,” to Hulk Hogan’s ridiculous tribute to old-school manhood, the Trump campaign gambled that their brand of “tough” masculinity would be a winning strategy against President Biden’s perceived “weak” portrayal of manhood. But Trump was caught up short when — just three days after his convention ended — he was facing a woman.

Into this fraught political moment comes a thought-provoking film exploring presidential masculinity. The Man Card: 50 Years of Gender, Power & the American Presidency is rich with content and context for voters to make sense of the gender politics playing out in the election. Created by educator-author Jackson Katz, The Man Card was originally released in 2020. The updated and expanded 2024 version crackles with urgency now that Kamala Harris is Trump’s opponent.

The Man Card demonstrates how presidents and the presidency have historically been linked in the American imagination with traditional ideas about men. The film exposes how the right uses one-dimensional ideas about manhood to portray Democrats as too weak to attract working-class white men. In less politically volatile times, a full-on review of the film would make sense. But writing about The Man Card weeks before the election invites viewers to assess the film through an activist, not an educational, lens. Viewers might ask themselves: What can I do to get the film into a local union hall, before groups of younger, working-class men, broadcast on community access television, streamed in battleground states?

The Young Men Research Initiative, which Katz cofounded earlier this year, is urging the media to cover the male side of the gender gap and the Democrats to reach out to young men, especially those who typically get their news from the online, misogynist manosphere rather than traditional media.

The film uses vivid archival and contemporary footage to illustrate the ways presidential masculinity is portrayed, ranging from a cowboy hat-wearing Ronald Reagan cutting brush on his Santa Barbara ranch to George W. Bush decked out in a fighter pilot’s uniform landing on the USS Abraham Lincoln to (wrongly) declare, “Mission accomplished,” in Iraq. 

For the second time in eight years, a man whose political identity is rooted in both misogyny and reductive ideas about manhood is running against a woman. Instead of a white woman, now his opponent is Black and South Asian. Plus, she’s a prosecutor; he’s a felon. The Man Card asks white male voters, especially in battleground states, how they will judge the Harris-Walz ticket. Will they throw their support behind the MAGA movement that promises to restore men’s former glory? Or will they reject long-established voting patterns and help usher in a new era, redefining the highest office in the country, and with it our national identity?

Voters have a stark choice. Trump and Vance promote a rigid masculinity infused with both misogyny and Christian nationalism. They have used bigotry and fear of the other — including bald-faced lies about Haitian immigrants — to gin up their base. Meanwhile, Harris and Walz represent an evolving expression of leadership — championing women as leaders at the highest level — more suited to the 21st century.

Until now, the loudest voices in the struggle over which version of gender and power will prevail have been those promoting traditional masculinity as the key to solving society’s problems. Among them are some on the far right who, alarmingly, believe violence is both acceptable and necessary. Meanwhile, other voices are beginning to be recognized: those of antisexist men who have worked to transform conventional masculinity over the same half-century covered in The Man Card. They’ve been redefining manhood, fatherhood, and brotherhood. Now, it’s time to add white male presidents.

To better understand the deeply gendered social, cultural, and political forces that Kamala Harris is up against, here’s an idea: Set aside an hour and a quarter and watch The Man Card. Then, take to heart Michelle Obama’s challenge and “do something.” Maybe, begin by sharing what you learned with men you know — especially young men. 

Rob Okun, syndicated by PeaceVoice, is editor emeritus of Voice Male magazine, chronicling the antisexist men’s movement for more than 30 years and is editor of the anthology, Voice Male: The Untold Story of the Profeminist Men’s Movement.

Categories
Opinion The Last Word

Memphis Is My Boyfriend: Enjoying the Mortgage

We are a family that absolutely loves Memphis! But sometimes, it’s best to enjoy our mortgage. I know that might sound a bit unusual, but it’s really quite straightforward. “Enjoying your mortgage” is just a Gen Alpha way of saying “appreciate your space” and embrace the joys of home.

This particular weekend, I woke up early, lit some soothing incense, opened the blinds, and poured myself a steaming cup of black coffee with a touch of honey. I cherished the peaceful moments before the kids woke up and my husband returned from his 16-mile run. But with kids aged 11, 12, 12, and 16, that quiet wouldn’t last long!

Photo: Patricia Lockhart

Laundry Day

Like most families, Saturdays are often reserved for chores (thankfully, now without the scent of bleach and old-school music blaring from ancient speakers). Each tween and teenager is responsible for tidying their own space, catching up on chores, and tackling laundry. And oh, laundry— what a beast it can be! Our kids have been doing their own laundry for the past three years, but we’re still very much in the learning phase. 

As adults, we might think laundry is simple, but just ask a tween or teenager, and you’ll hear a different story. “How many clothes make a full load?” “Do I really have to separate my whites from my colors?” “What temperature should the water be?” “Do detergent sheets work better than liquid?”

Honestly, those questions are valid! I stick to the basics: fill the machine two-thirds full and don’t forget the detergent. While washing and drying are straightforward, the real challenge is folding and hanging everything up. My husband enjoys putting on a good show and folding clothes until his heart’s content. Me? I’m more of a laundry mole, diving into the basket each morning to iron what’s needed. But with my husband’s high standards, the kids and I engage in a productive struggle every Saturday.

Grocery Shopping

Once the laundry is in a steady rhythm — wash, dry, fold/hang, and repeat six times — it’s time to tackle grocery shopping. In our family of six, everyone gets a night to cook dinner each week. On Fridays, we either cook together or indulge in oven pizza. To kick things off, we project our computer screen onto the TV so everyone can see the plan. With a grocery budget of $200 a week, we aim to make the most of it, enjoying a little bit of everything. We start by sharing our dinner ideas, keeping everyone’s preferences in mind. My 16-year-old has been a vegetarian since he was 6, while the younger twin prefers meat in every meal. Our 11-year-old isn’t fond of cheesy dishes, and I’m lactose intolerant. Thankfully, my husband and the oldest twin are pretty flexible with their choices. Next, we take turns adding ingredients to the Kroger Pickup list, ensuring we check what we already have on hand. At least once a month, we do a grocery inventory, which usually uncovers forgotten treasures like dried beans and random cans of tomato sauce. After finalizing our dinner items, we move on to breakfast and then lunch. If there’s any budget left, we treat ourselves to snacks, though that’s usually a rare delight!

Chilling Together

As adults, it’s easy for weekends to morph into extended workdays filled with tasks we didn’t have time for during our regular work hours. I want to teach my kids the importance of finding a healthy balance — not just by telling them, but by showing them. Chores can demonstrate appreciation for our space and future selves, but they aren’t the only way we enjoy our mortgage. Here are some fun activities we love to do together while “enjoying our mortgage”:

• Napping

• Playing video games

• Watching TV

• Baking delicious treats

• Playing library with my books (just me)

• Gardening and reviving my plants

• Building forts in the living room

• Movie marathon nights

• Doing absolutely nothing together

One twin typically engages in a social-battery recharge. Being at school all week takes a lot out of him, so he’ll often keep to himself most of the weekend. My daughter, on the other hand, is a social butterfly. She wants someone to enjoy all of her “chilling activities” with. My oldest bounces between baking and getting ahead of his studies. The other twin plays hard all day. As for me, I sit quietly with one child, do an activity with another, bounce ideas with the eldest, and play with the other twin. Sometimes I do none of the above and don’t feel guilty about it.

So enjoy your mortgage or rent, Memphis! Seek out activities with your tweens and teens that bring you closer together, foster relaxation, and spark creativity. Or recharge your own battery. 

Patricia Lockhart is a native Memphian who loves to read, write, cook, and eat. By day, she’s an assistant principal and writer, but by night … she’s asleep. @memphisismyboyfriend

Categories
Opinion The Last Word

Immigrant Stories: Anna Mashaljun and Denis Khantimirov

Editor’s note: This is part five in a five-part series focusing on immigrant contributions to our nation and city. 

Anna Mashaljun was born and raised in Tallinn, the capital of Estonia. Denis Khantimirov is from Vladikavkaz, just north of Georgia (the European Georgia), and as white Europeans their immigrant story is somewhat distinct from the other stories featured in this series, but it’s just as compelling. It intersects in a number of ways with other immigrant stories and relies on one abiding constant: Many people — most young, the vast majority talented and hardworking, from every corner of the globe — are extremely eager to relocate to the United States.

Anna grew up in Estonia but is Russian on her mother’s side, and her father is of Latvian and Polish descent. She went to a Russian-language school and speaks Estonian, in addition to unaccented English. At 18 years of age, she left Europe for the United States, where she enrolled at the University of Nevada at Las Vegas (UNLV) on a tennis scholarship. She studied marketing and finance, and America seemed like a big, scary place to the 18-year-old college student. “The food surprised me,” she says. “It was mostly burgers and pizza and … the portions were huge.” She remembers the warmth of the people she met in America at this time and was surprised to learn that even her professors at the university were friendly and approachable.   

For Denis, the early 1990s in Russia were “turbulent years.” Both his parents were professionals (a father who worked as an engineer, his mother an architect), but people in Russia struggled mightily as society transformed from a central, planned economy to the “new era,” which Denis described as “the Wild West.”   

“There was total chaos with the fall of communism,” he says, “and I was a young boy during the most difficult days, say in the early 1990s.” He remembers his first Snickers bar — which he was able to sample in 1993 as a 12-year-old. He knew when his father’s pay day was because that was when he could expect his next Snickers. “Despite the troubles, I had a relatively stress-free childhood, attended a solid school, and was a relatively privileged only child living in a transforming society.”

Thanks to a program administered by the United States government, Denis was able to attend high school for a year in East Texas, near the city of Tyler. He was given $100 a month as a stipend, and he was 15 years old during the 1996-97 school year. He remembers this experience with great fondness. East Texas was very different from his youthful expectations of an America crowded with skyscrapers, patrolled by Batman.  

“I’m still in touch with my host family from that period,” says Denis, describing the setting as “very rural” and the people “extremely warm and friendly.” He also remembers being better prepared than his American counterparts in terms of “basic academic subjects like economics and mathematics.” The kids in Texas were curious; they were never hostile or unkind, even when they asked him, “Are there TVs in Russia?”

A year in Texas as a high school student generated a strong desire to return to the USA. Denis applied to universities in the U.S. but received insufficient scholarship funding. He made the decision to stay home and study at a state school in Russia, graduating in 2004 with a degree in international economics.

Denis then worked in a hospitality management program in Switzerland. From there, he went to Arizona where he worked in a management training program at a resort in Sedona. He talked his way into an MBA program at UNLV where he received a last-minute offer after another student dropped out. “I was offered a student visa, an assistantship of $900 per month, and completed the degree. I met Anna in Vegas, delivered pizzas as a side hustle in the evenings. I remember wondering how I’d pay for the $600 radiator when it exploded from overuse in the scorching Vegas heat.”

A marketing professor at UNLV encouraged Denis to apply to the Ph.D. program at Old Dominion University in Norfolk, Virginia. Together with Anna, who studied sports management and marketing at the M.A. level, Denis completed his Ph.D. in 2015 and accepted a position as an associate professor of marketing in the business department at Rhodes College. For Denis, Memphis was and remains “real — it reminded me of Mark Twain from day one, and we all learned of the Mississippi River, and the music called the blues.” Memphis, for Denis, represents a “raw and authentic sense of America.”  

Anna and Denis moved Downtown in 2015 when they first arrived in Memphis; they were conditioned to live in a walkable city center. “We noticed there weren’t many people Downtown. Most of the families at the playgrounds Downtown were immigrant families.” They moved to Germantown after the kids (Alex, 9, and Alisa, 7) arrived. The kids are “fully integrated into their community and love it here.”

Denis and Anna fought and battled to get to the United States, then worked multiple jobs while studying to get ahead. Their type of tenacity and determination may seem unusual, but it’s the essence of a very typical American immigration story. 

Bryce W. Ashby is an attorney at Donati Law, PLLC. Michael J. LaRosa is an associate professor of history at Rhodes College.

Categories
Opinion The Last Word

The Growing Case for Medicare for All

In her debate with Donald Trump, Vice President Kamala Harris declared, “Access to healthcare should be a right, not a privilege for those who can afford it.” Her stance is laudable, and the reforms she advocated that evening make political sense in a tight presidential race, i.e. widening access to care through the Affordable Care Act (ACA) and extending negotiated drug prices (e.g., insulin capped at $35 per month) to all Americans, not only Medicare recipients. 

But such reforms only go so far in realizing the fundamental value of healthcare as a right belonging to all Americans. The reforms won’t address the inequities and structural problems plaguing our fragmented healthcare system (or “semi-system,” as political scientist Jacob S. Hacker has described it).

This past year, the U.S. experienced a national medical emergency affecting millions of Americans. Known as the “Great Unwinding,” this underreported emergency entailed the disenrollment from Medicaid of 23 million Americans, many of them children. Medicaid, the joint federal-state program providing healthcare coverage to poor Americans, had put millions of people on continuous coverage as a result of 2020 legislation passed at the outset of the pandemic. Prior to the pandemic, Medicaid recipients had to undergo regular checks on their income-related eligibility for the program, checks that often interrupted care with red tape and bureaucratic glitches (patients moving, or not getting adequate notifications, as well as confusing instructions for individuals with disabilities). Continuous coverage meant that approximately 90 million people received necessary medical appointments and medications without interruption. 

But when the pandemic-era program expired last year, states began disenrolling patients (some states more aggressively than others) with results that were highly disruptive to patients’ ongoing care. One young Florida couple, whose 7-year-old daughter has cerebral palsy and epileptic seizures, was given a 10-day notice of their daughter’s disenrollment, a notification that meant disruptions to the visits with her daughter’s therapists, as well a threat to the continuous supply of her medications. Another couple was informed that their 12-year-old daughter had retained her Medicaid coverage, while their 6-year-old son was disenrolled.

Over the course of this past year, 56.4 million people (69 percent of the people who had been disenrolled) were eventually able to have their coverage renewed, while 25 million (31 percent) remain disenrolled, many for so-called “procedural” reasons (e.g., outdated contact information, inability to understand or complete renewal packets). Overall, 25.6 million Americans lack health insurance altogether. 

These figures are unacceptable in a nation as wealthy as the U.S. — a nation that spends more on healthcare per capita than any comparable nation in wealth and size. As Adam Gaffney, a critical care physician, has noted, any short- or long-term gaps in coverage can “precipitate potentially deadly ruptures of care.” Citing recent medical studies, Gaffney explains that, “most of the benefits of modern healthcare, after all, emerge not from emergency care provided in places like ERs or ICUs, as important as that is. Rather, health is protected through long-standing therapeutic relationships between patients and primary care physicians that allow medical problems to be recognized and chronic problems carefully managed.”

For these reasons (i.e., the fragmented nature of our healthcare system, the medically harmful discontinuities of care, the unacceptable number of uninsured individuals), our nation deserves a genuine Medicare for all: a single-payer healthcare system that’s publicly financed, and that provides individuals with comprehensive care and choice in selecting providers. And, as recommended by the advocacy group Physicians for a National Health Program, the delivery of care would remain “largely in private hands.”

The provision of coverage itself, however, must not be compromised by the introduction of for-profit insurance plans, like the Medicare Advantage (MA) plans that now enroll half of all Medicare recipients. Under such plans, a private insurer is paid a fixed monthly amount for each Medicare recipient who selects the option, and the plan handles the coverage for that individual. Introduced during the Reagan administration, the MA plans were intended to provide more efficient care, but they’ve ended up being more costly than traditional Medicare, have posed problems to patients and rural health facilities because of frequent denials of care, and have been investigated for fraudulent overbilling.

In its Project 2025 blueprint for governance, the Heritage Foundation has called for privatized MA plans to be the “default option” for Medicare, and they will likely be Donald Trump’s preferred option were he to be elected president this November. He would also be likely to follow the Project’s recommendations on stripping certain key consumer protections from the ACA.

If Kamala Harris is elected president, she will have before her an array of policy options that go far beyond the reforms she mentioned in her debate with Trump. These are options that can provide all Americans, no matter what their employment or socioeconomic status, with comprehensive and continuous healthcare.

For example, there is proposed Medicare for All legislation now before the Senate and House (Sanders, Jayapal, Dingell), with 15 cosponsors in the Senate and support from half the Democratic caucus in Congress. In addition, the 2024 Democratic Party platform includes a plank calling for a “public option” to supplement the marketplace plans in the ACA. Such an option, which Harris advocated in her 2019 bid for president, would give Americans of any age the opportunity to enroll in Medicare-style, publicly funded coverage.

In recent weeks, Harris has said that although her policy positions may have changed, her values haven’t. If she is elected president, she should seize the opportunity to align her values — healthcare as a right, not a commodity — with policies that offer the best chance of realizing those values fully. 

Andrew Moss, syndicated by PeaceVoice, writes on labor, nonviolence, and culture from Los Angeles. He is an emeritus professor (nonviolence studies, English) from California State University.