washwords

Spring fever, senioritis, skipping school comes easy, with it’s familiar laughter, shedding of clothes, spreading of blankets on hills, dipping of toes into pools, opening of windows.

But fall comes with it’s own maladies it seems and they are ones of coldness, layering, shuttering, shutting down.  For all around me, we are bundling, shuttering, closing down, shutting off.

Maybe it’s THIS fall. This fall with the economy plummeting, the campaigns becoming hostile and in some cases disturbing. This fall with the temperature literally changing from 80 degrees to 30 Fahrenheit in a day. This fall, with the war casualities and injuries mounting, this Fall with the flu and cold strains bouncing around from person to person.

Or maybe it’s just the people I know. Maybe it’s Washington and our obsession with polls and stats and debates. Maybe it’s my friends, one facing the prospect of losing her cat really more of a “spiritual guide,” the constant who saw her through boyfriends, and friends, and changes of cities and marriage and baby-wanting,

"habbib on the prowl," Suz Redfearn

and baby-bringing-home – Habbib.

Another friend asked recently “Is there such a thing as pre-partum depression?”

So maybe it’s us.

But me? I am getting married, I’m in love with a wonderful man who loves me back, I’m writing again (watch this space for snippets of “all the boys I’ve loved before” for my work-in-progress novella, “Red Line to Dumpsville: My Year of Dating in Washington D.C.”), getting good feedback on that writing, getting published and broadcast and awarded. I have a good job, with raises every year, and more importantly respect and friendship of peers I admire in turn.

And I’m sad, too.  And I don’t know why.

So we ride it out, we cuddle and hunker down together, we sing songs loudly,  we tell jokes and giggle. We bring friends our friends, bring love our love, bring hearts our hearts. And wait, trust in the universe, and know: this too shall pass.

My friend is in what she calls “pregrieving” for Habbib, the gentlemanly little man-cat who chose to live with her these past 15 years, with his curmudgeonly face but spirit of anything but grump. I told her what I very much know to be true, that whatever happens with Habbib that maybe he is preparing to go because he knows he can: she’ll be okay now. She got that love she was seeking and the beautiful baby, the loving husband, the security and full cup of love in the world. But sure as I am that Habbib is sure she’ll be okay, I’m equally sure that he won’t be gone, not forever, not really, even if physically. He’ll be sending her signs from wherever he is for years and years to come.

My dad does so all the time.  The year after he died I wanted to go on a trip to Spain – my mom was worried -I was just 13; we had just bombed Libya, she was a newly single parent. In the parking lot of our neighborhood drug store she saw an exact doppelganger copy of my dad’s old car: the fairly unique VW rabbit, beige. The license plate? “ITS OK.” No, I’m not kidding.

And it was, I went on that trip. Habbib may say his adieus to the the grassy patch he plays on and the laptops he likes to sleep on. We will hurt and get better and fall down again and laugh and cry and love and sometimes hate and then remember it is so much better to love. And the sun will rise and fall. And it will be O.K. Promise.

Today is Yom Kippur, the day of atonement for my faith, the closing of the 10 day period of the new year, of reflection for the year behind, of looking to the year ahead.

Truth be told, I love this time of year. I love the rituals of cleansing, purifying,  the haunting melodies,  the looking ahead and celebrating first so that filled up with love and hope and promise, you can more properly atone for sins, and reform into someone better, stronger, more authentic.

I especially love the poetry, the music of our services. I sing “Avinu Malkeinu” to myself throughout the year (no doubt especially annoying friends and neighbors this time of year) and unlike my favorite songs in English where it’s the lyrics I most connect to, focus on; in prayer, it’s the melody – the haunting beautiful notes that express better where my heart is dwelling then the actual words sometimes can.  “Our Father, Our King” the literal translation of that prayer’s title, isn’t what the song speaks to me.

Rather, it says loudly, softly, heartfully, tearfully, pleadingly, “I’m sorry.”

It says: I’ll do better. I’m working on it. I do have love in my heart of hearts, I do appreciate the riches I have.

It says: I am joyful, exhuberant, warmed by this community, even when they are strangers. I am home here with this familiar melody I seem to have always known, by the ability to sing fully, forcefully, till I’m dizzy and hoarse.

It says: Thank you. Thank you, God, if that’s what you believe in. Thank you friends and loved ones. Thank you strangers for forgiving me the sins and offenses I don’t even know I’m committing. Thank you love for finding me, thank you world for recognizing the talents and strengths I have.

And it says this: There’s going to be hurt, there’s going to be mistakes and pains and some of them are going to be your fault. And

The time is now to register to vote, fellow DC-metro-area peeps.  Do you know where / if you are registered? You should! (And if you live outside the area, but still in the U.S.,  fear not, go here for the National Mail-in Voter Registration. Several organizations (some partisan, some not) have organized electronic pages as well, including MTV’s well-known Rock the Vote. The Detroit Free Press has a great story on voter registration with links to every state’s voter registration.)

Here at home, in the hood, by which I mean the tri-state area (no, not those three states, New Yorkers, sigh)…

In DC, the  deadline is Oct. 6.
You need to attest and show proof that:

• You are a United States Citizen
• You live in the District of Columbia
• You will be at least 18 years old on or before the next election
• You are not in jail on a felony conviction
• You have not been judged “mentally incompetent”in a court of law
• You do not claim the right to vote anywhere outside DC.

In Maryland, the deadline is Oct.14.

To register in Maryland, you need to 

• Be a U.S. citizen;
• Be a Maryland resident;
• Be at least 18 years old by the next general election;
• Not be under guardianship for mental disability;
• Not have been convicted of buying or selling votes;
• Not have been convicted of a felony, or if you have, you have completed serving a court ordered sentence of imprisonment, including any term of parole or probation for the conviction.

And, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls…..

In Virginia, the deadline is Oct.6.

You need to be: 18, a citizen, and a “resident” of Virginia, the burden of proving which is determined “by the applicant.” While things such as owned or rented property, mailing address, and work status count in the evaluation of that claim (if there is any dispute) residency is ultimately determined by “where you lay your head at night” as per a court decision that included provisions for the homeless. Interesting.

More specifically…[1. See for example:  Virginia residency requirements]

Under the Virginia Constitution, a prospective voter must be a resident of the precinct where he seeks to register. In order to establish “residency”, a prospective voter must show that (1) he has an actual physical place of abode in the precinct, and (2) he is domiciled there.

To establish “domicile”, a person must live in a particular locality with the intent to remain there for an unlimited time. Sachs v. Horan, 252 Va. 247 (1996). Thus, no person can have more than one domicile or vote in more than one locality at the same time. Where a person establishes his domicile may result in consequences unrelated to voting, such as payment of taxes. The burden of proving domicile rests with the person asserting it. Each person must, however, have some place that they can vote, if they wish to be able to vote. Even the homeless may register by using the site “where they lay their head at night”.

Registrars in Virginia bear the responsibility of determining if applicants are eligible to vote in their localities. Under Virginia Code §24.2-101, registrars may give consideration to at least the following factors in determining domicile: 1.  A person’s “expressed intent”, and 2.  A person’s “conduct and all attendant circumstances”, including, but not limited to:

• financial independence
• business pursuits
• employment
• income sources
• residence for income tax purposes
• marital status and children
• residence of parents
• leaseholds and ownership of real property
• where automobiles and other personal property are registered and taxed.

If a registrar has reason to question whether a person actually resides in the precinct where he seeks to vote, the registrar should make reasonable inquiries to help the applicant make an accurate determination. No single factor or response should be determine an applicant’s domicile. On the contrary, each prospective voter should be evaluated on a case-by-case basis, weighing all of the relevant circumstances.