Cold Spaghetti

Will is finally playing with Legos (well, he takes them in and out of the bin and wrecks any lego creations… but that counts!) This is a very exciting development because it means *I* get to play with Legos, too!

Will smiles holding asparagus. A wonderful care package arrived from Grampa George and Nana Nancy with lots of plastic fruits and veggies for his kitchen, a summer outfit, and rain galooshes!

Our local bookstore, Octavia Books, where we bring Will to see the Coi Fish and enjoy air conditioning during our walks, and where we have pre-ordered Book 7 for it’s July 16th release date, made CNN. Fun!

What: Go Fourth on the River. Music, food, boats, fireworks, and fun.

Where: Downtown, Riverfront, Quarter, Riverwalk.

What we did: Got seperated. Paul contacted Police, I borrowed a cell phone, called my Mom, who called Paul.

All was right with the world: When we enjoyed our Will’s FIRST firework display. A super-great fireworks show with music and “dual barges” sending off syncronized lights and explosions. Fun!

It sucked when: It took us 45 minutes to get out of the parking lot (now we know why so few people parked there.)

What we learned: Parking is no big deal on the Fourth, but consider how to leave when it’s over; crowds aren’t bad at all. And for heaven’s sake, pick a meeting spot before going out for beignets or bathroom breaks.

Will was dancing with his Tigger doll (“Let’s bounce even fasterer!”) and fell in the classic toddler way. His head, with the help of a nearby rocking chair, cushioned the fall.

He cried for a few minutes, fought off the ice we tried to put on it (“ow, ow”, he said) and then went about his happy day. This picture is about 10 minutes after the fall, to document the humongous gray and red egg growing on his forehead. (After some panicked moments, I quickly became an expert in child head injury symptoms and decided to call off the National Guard.)

In honor of his new body art, my father dubbed him: “Chief Egg-on-Noggin”.

His hair does a good job hiding the Egg-on-Noggin. But it’s time for a haircut. (We want him to look spiffy for his debut as Ring Bearer Master Will at Emily and Skip’s wedding on Sunday.) Do we cut the hair and expose the egg, or leave it wild and free? The dilemmas parents face!

PapPap and Egg-on-Noggin play around for me in their matching Michigan shirts.

It is secret to no one that I am totally on board with debt relief for impoverished countries. I am gung-ho for our MTV generation to learn about the world’s injustice, even if through the lips of celebrities.

But honestly, give me a break. The Live 8 show is patronizing. It’s white. It’s privileged. It’s a money-maker for the music industry. It’s an opportunity for celebrities to feel they are redeeming their lives of over-indulgence. Where are the Afro-Caribbean performers who have been singing about these issues for years? Where are artists from Africa? Where are their voices? Live 8 is an opportunity to share the stage with artists from the very nations that the effort is poised to “help”. Instead, they have been shut out. They were denied the opportunity to gain any celebrity, to speak their own stories, to share in the great profit enjoyed by Western artists.

So what is Live 8, then? It seems like an opportunity to use the faces of suffering African children to lift the careers of aging white men and other super-rich stars. The plight of the poorest people of the world is exploited, while celebrities can pat themselves on the back at a job well done. The continent of Africa (and the diverse, 50+ countries within) are essentialized to one bleak, sad, pathetic, uncivilized place — in need of the white, Western, “civilized” societies of the world to come to it’s rescue.

Live 8 says: “We don’t want your money. We want your voice.” What does that mean? The world is no better off than what is was at the first Live 8, 20 years ago. In fact, the numbers of the impoverished have risen, debt is higher, and in the face of HIV, re-emergence of diseases like polio and TB, the outlook bleaker. Are we ready to do what is necessary to bring opportunity to others?

Are we prepared to abandon cheap goods, Wal-Mart, Target, and the like, whose goods come from maquilas and other sweat shops around the globe? Are we ready to pay to support only fair trade coffee, fruits, and vegetables? Are we ready to forgo our bling-bling and give up diamonds, which are purchased cheaply out of the disease, maltreatment, and death that are West African diamond mines? Are we ready to bring down drug company profits, CEO millionaires, and industry monopoly? Are we each ready to give up a little of our slice of the pie?

In a world of finite wealth and resources, bringing others out of poverty, despair, and certain death means that we with excess must be willing to cut our gains. I find it somewhat ironic that the message of debt relief comes from stars like P-Diddy, Jay-Z, and other artists known for the high-count carats they shower themselves with — not from their work as humanitarians, educators on world affairs, or spokespersons for the vulnerable.

Pardon me if I choke a bit on Live 8’s efforts in international aid.