Paralleling the ground broken in New York City at Ground Zero little more than a month ago, this election year brings with it the chance to turn an inescapably grim date into a world-recognized opportunity for comment and change.

Around the world on Saturday, September 11, people will meet in public places to share ideas about what democracy, citizenship, and patriotism are today. The September Project, funded by the University of Washington and the Washington Medical Librarians Association, hosts a web site promoting libraries as the ideal setting for this event. The site proposes several activities to stimulate ideas, including shared readings, talks, children’s programs, roundtables, open forums, displays, and last but not least, voter registration. Santa Cruz County Library System in California, for example, will host a forum via 10 of its branches, where people will explore the questions: “What works well in America?,” “What needs fixing?,” and “What can we do to fix it?” Hosting libraries are encouraged to share their ideas, many of which are already available online.

A list and map of participating venues around the world are available on the web site, which I visited immediately, anticipating a plethora of hosting libraries in Los Angeles County which would mirror the activist awareness of my undergrad home, Santa Cruz. Imagine my surprise when the page opened to show that in a county large enough to eclipse Santa Cruz county many times over, only three libraries have signed on as host, all of which require more than an hour’s drive, round-trip, from where I live in Venice.

There’s still time to “take back” September 11 by signing up on the September Project web site. It’s one of the more entertaining ways we can change history.

My dear friend Mia’s death leads me back to the writing of Charles Johnson: author, philosopher, professor, and humanist.

Johnson offers solace in the form of a bonfire: his words inspire me to stay awake, aware, and involved, even when I have every reason to retreat to my bed and cover myself in blankets for an extended period of time. As if that weren’t enough, he gives the distinct impression that his process of writing is as calm and clear as his finished product.

I picked up his collection of essays, Turning the Wheel, and found connections between creativity, the quest for freedom, identity, and Eastern philosophy. In his preface, Johnson writes:

“…[M]y sense of black life in a predominantly white, very Eurocentric society — a slave state until 1863 — was that our unique destiny as a people, our duty to our predecessors who sacrificed so much and for so long, and our dreams of a life of dignity and happiness for our children were tied inextricably to a profound and lifelong meditation on what it means to be free. Truly free.”

“…As a teenager I wondered, and I wonder still, are we free now? And if so, free to do what? Was our ancestors’ ancient struggle for liberation realized in 1964 with the passage of the Civil Rights Act? Or in ’65 with the Voting Rights Act? Or are the pointed questions of W.E.B. Du Bois in his address ‘Criteria of Negro Art’ — ‘What do we want? What is the thing we are after?’ — even more urgent today, and less easy to answer, than when African-Americans were blatantly denied basic, human rights and treated as pariahs?’”

“…‘There has been progress,’ Johnson quotes Du Bois, ‘and we can see it day by day looking back along blood-filled paths … But when gradually the vista widens and you begin to see the world at your feet and the far horizon, then it is time to know more precisely whither you are going and what you really want.’”

Something happens when you break a world record. You cease to become a representative for your country, and you become a role model for the world.

This morning Lance Armstrong won the Tour de France for the sixth time. He is the only person in history to have won more than five. Moreover, he has won six consecutive Tours, after having been diagnosed with cancer eight years ago and given less than a 50 percent chance of survival.

Although many interpreted Lance’s stage win yesterday to mean that Armstrong had his sixth Tour victory already under his belt, Armstrong remained true to nature, humble and in the moment, remarking only that he wouldn’t anticipate a win until he crossed the finish line.

After his official win today, Armstrong reiterated the importance of not getting ahead of oneself and of taking each moment as it comes:

“The last laps there, I thought, ‘Ah, I want to get this over with … But then I thought to myself, ‘You know, you might want to do a few more laps, because you may not ever do it again.’ And you can’t take it for granted.”

The structure of the Tour de France ought to preclude nationalistic attitudes due to its three-week length, abundance of award opportunities, and race strategy. The American national anthem, which played this morning at the awards ceremony in Paris, served more as an homage to Armstrong’s beginnings than as a tally mark in a competition between nations. The cycling team led by Armstrong has been sponsored by the United States Postal Service and is composed of cyclists from several countries. To win the race, Armstrong and his teammates banded together, forging across France as a unit and lending each other strength and support in order to complete the 3,395-kilometer race.

There have been some resentments noted toward Armstrong, but his consistent efforts toward raising popular awareness of sports, the race to cure cancer and good sportsmanship are matched by a growing momentum of international supporters and admirers.

What do art and politics have to do with one another? Are celebrities any less worthy than anyone else when it comes to expressing political opinions?

Linda Ronstadt and the Aladdin. Whoopi Goldberg and Slim-Fast. Michael Moore and Disney. The Dixie Chicks and Clear Channel. Tim Robbins and the Baseball Hall of Fame.

An article on the First Amendment Center web site reveals that throughout history, celebrities of all political leanings have been dropped by the corporations which had sponsored them, although the current trend in the American media has been bashing celebrities who voice liberal views.

Some people believe art is only entertainment and escapism. Others believe art is a medium for a message. There are those who believe in the purity of aesthetic excellence. Still others believe that the more controversy stirred up over art through politics, the better art sells.

The latest episode, between singer Linda Ronstadt and the Las Vegas Aladdin Hotel and Casino, leads me to contemplate the First Amendment: the right to free speech in the United States. Perhaps the hotel-casino and the audience members who disagreed with Ronstadt’s opinion had the right to usher her out and to request refunds for the concert. Perhaps Ronstadt had the right to express her opinion during the concert. Certainly everyone should have been aware of the potential consequences for his or her actions.

The comedy inherent in this week’s situation results from the fact that the Aladdin Hotel and Casino will be taken over by Planet Hollywood International in the upcoming months. Hours after the news broke that current Aladdin president William Timmins had asked Ronstadt to leave and never return, Robert Earl, chief of Planet Hollywood International and prospective owner of the Aladdin, invited both Ronstadt and Michael Moore to return for a concert in the fall, after the Aladdin changes hands.

Sir Elton John has expressed the opinion that the current atmosphere in the United States is akin to 1950s McCarthyism. In an interview with the New York magazine, Interview, Sir Elton is quoted as remarking,

“There’s an atmosphere of fear in America right now that is deadly. Everyone is too career-conscious … There was a moment about a year ago when you couldn’t say a word about anything in this country for fear of your career being shot down by people saying you are un-American.”

Los Angeles-based writer Andrew Gumbel points out that perhaps these rebel celebrity headliners are less a manifestation of across-the-board censorship than they are of the extreme volatility present in the United States during an election year.

Not even Arnold Schwarzenegger can make me regret our American right to free speech.

Our California Governor made the executive decision to call some lawmakers “girlie men” at a rally last Saturday in Ontario, California. Not surprisingly, the lawmakers in question weren’t doing what Schwarzenegger wanted them to do.

Reactions to Schwarzenegger’s comment have been well-publicized, as has been their likely inspiration.

The difficulty with a remark like this remains, as always: What do we do with it?

The last line of an op-ed in USA Today got me thinking. It read: “Humor is a weapon that in politics is in far too short supply.” While certainly subjective in the context of the piece, these parting words reminded me of a truth I learned as a high school exchange student in Italy. Different cultures have distinctly different types of humor.

What Americans consider funny may be vastly different than what the French find humorous. Or, in this case, what an Austrian in office and a writer for USA Today appear to have found amusing.

In order to find something funny, you have to be able to share a perspective, or a culture. Even though the term “girlie-men” got laughs from the audience of “Saturday Night Live” when Hans and Franz used it, many Americans didn’t find it funny this time. In my case, I knew I was getting the hang of Italian culture when I started getting Italian humor. And sometimes even when I didn’t share someone’s opinion, I got a lot more out of laughing than I did out of what I had been doing before I learned to laugh like a Buddha.

When I asked my mother if Schwarzenegger’s latest had made it up to her neck of the woods, she told me about a bipartisan joke which had just aired on the Seattle news, a quasi music video that leaves both sides laughing.  

If living well is the best revenge, then laughter is the best medicine.

We all know what to do with lemons. Make lemonade.

In the stead of viable solutions, dismay has pervaded most media coverage of California’s juvenile justice system. The two most recent youth inmate suicides, combined with documented human rights violations occurring at California youth correctional facilities nicknamed “gladitorial schools”, have caught the eye and fired the imagination of the California public.

Fortunately, popular response to this coverage has been equally dramatic.

An article in the San Francisco Chronicle references a recent protest which compared Iraqi prisoner and youth offender abuse. Candid criticism voiced by former California youth inmates fuels the demands by California activists for the closure of the California Youth Authority (CYA). In the words of former San Francisco youth inmate Will Roy: “You can’t build something effective on top of something rotten.”

After months of awareness that the CYA must transform its “corrections model” currently at work, Californians are only just beginning to envision successful alternatives.

On July 1, Missouri’s youth prison program made the front page of the Los Angeles Times for its innovative, nurturing approach that yields results. Only 30 percent of detained youth return to prison in Missouri, while California is making headlines for its 90 percent recidivism rate. Jenifer Warren presents an angle in her Thursday article, “Spare the Rod, Save the Child,” as unusual as it is elegant, shifting the spotlight from what California is doing wrong toward what Missouri has done right. In Missouri,

“[I]nmates, referred to as ‘kids,’ live in dorms that feature beanbag chairs, potted plants, stuffed animals and bunk beds with smiley-face comforters. Guards – who are called ‘youth specialists’ and must have college degrees – go by their first names and don’t hesitate to offer hugs.”

The usual suspicions abound toward the application of Missouri’s program to California’s system. California’s Undersecretary of Youth and Adult Corrections, Kevin Carruth, is one such skeptic: “Everything I hear about Missouri tells me its program works great for the population they have, but our demographics are very different.”

The drama of the situation is compounded by potential financial threat looming on the horizon. Though gang-related homicides across the country have increased 50 percent over the last five years, proposed cutbacks in state and federal funding endanger California’s at-risk youth programs. California governor Arnold Schwarzenegger may terminate $134 million, two-thirds of the Temporary Assistance to Needy Family funding for juvenile prevention and probation, in the upcoming year. In addition, a recent White House proposal would cut 40 percent next year in the federal Juvenile Accountability Incentive Block Grant, from which California received $4.7 million in 2004. The grant would be eliminated entirely by 2005 if the proposal passes.

In the face of all these obstacles, Missouri’s Youth Penal System Chief Mark Steward’s words and presence must not be underestimated. They attest that a failing system can be completely overthrown and redesigned, with excellent results:

“The old corrections model was a failure; most kids left us worse off than when they came in. So we threw away that culture, and now we focus on treatment, on making connections with these guys and showing them another way. It works.”

As for Caruth’s doubts, Warren writes: “Steward said he believes that his state’s success can be replicated in California, despite the different mix of offenders.”

Time is of the essence; action is essential. The proven success of Missouri’s system may be the best tool California has to reshape a system that cannot be ignored. And thanks to alternative coverage presented by visionary journalists like Jenifer Warren, solutions emerge where only complaints existed before.

Life would be much easier if I could add my parents to my health insurance benefits.

I’m not married. I don’t have children. When I get my insurance papers in the mail, I look wistfully at the section that asks if I have any dependents. I plan to be taking care of my parents eventually, if I’m lucky and they live long enough. If what I did during the day could contribute directly to the well-being of the most important people in my life, I would approach work from a completely different standpoint.

In the United States, married heterosexual couples receive many financial and legal benefits which are denied to other equally interdependent pair relationships. As American University law professor Nancy Polikoff points out in an article for The Washington Blade:

“…[M]arriage is the wrong dividing line for these benefits. A young man caring for the woman who raised him should be able to cover her on his health insurance; two older sisters who pool their economic resources should not fear that the death of one will require the other to sell their home to pay estate taxes.”

A week ago, Polikoff spoke on an NPR program supporting the validity of these alternate types of pair relationships. It wasn’t until I looked her up on the Internet that I understood how similar the issues being debated in the gay community are to my own concerns about federal recognition of benefit-sharing in care-giving relationships.

In his article “Marriage: Mend it, Don’t End it,” Dale Carpenter argues for marriage. “No other relationship can quite replicate that signal,” Carpenter writes; relationships sanctified by marriage have both history and tradition on their side. In addition, the inherent expectation of endurance of marriage relationships gives the state motive to invest in marriage, conferring the benefits that make life so much easier.

Carpenter would like alternative relationships to receive benefits, but his fears overshadow his hopes:

“Polikoff probably assumes that abolishing marriage means everyone would get its goodies. At last, health care for all! Don’t bet on it. The more likely outcome is that standard marital benefits would be eliminated or reduced to help pay for benefits accorded to the newly recognized relationships. The social investment in former marriages would decrease, diminishing the return we all get from that bygone institution.”

A February article in The Advocate, “Marriage vs. Civil Unions? There’s No Comparison,” argues that a 1996 federal ban preventing gay couples from receiving “hundreds of federal marriage benefits” has left the marriage institution as the only tool gays could use to challenge that ban.

Some argue that civil unions are an equivalent substitute for marriage and that “all the rights and benefits would apply.” Polikoff disagrees, pointing out that while marriages are recognized worldwide, civil unions are not internationally recognized as an equivalent union. She writes in her article, “An End to All Marriage”:

Gay marriage will move us in the wrong direction if it limits legal recognition to married couples only.

Lesbian and gay marriage-rights activists counter criticism of their efforts by saying that the right to marry will provide a choice to gay and lesbian couples: Those who embrace the institution will have the opportunity to enter it, while those like me who find fault with it can simply choose not to marry.

This choice-based rhetoric contains an enormous fallacy. When the state gives one type of relationship more benefits and legal support than others, there is inherently some coercion and free choice is impossible.

The website www.relationshipllc.com, which advocates limited liability companies as “the new marriage model,” cites Polikoff as arguing that “organizing society around sexually connected people is wrong; the more central units are dependents and their caretakers.” Alternatives to marriage are growing, thanks to supply and demand. I don’t know whether the law or the economy is to thank for it.

It’s sad on the one hand to find that the issue of sharing benefits affects a significant part of our population, but on the other, it’s heartening to know the momentum is building in different camps. Our rights today are the direct result of the responsibilities those before us have taken on and followed through, sometimes with the knowledge that they wouldn’t live to enjoy the results in their lifetime. They must have hoped to leave the world a better place than the one they found.

Whether or not the question is as simple as whether to marry or not, the bottom line is the freedom to do so and choice. As Americans, we enjoy more rights than many other people in the world, a few of those being the right to travel, to relocate, to develop and share personal opinions, and to investigate and challenge the system that previous generations have set up for us.

I just spent 72 hours with 73 American high school exchange students in a hotel south of Los Angeles International Airport. Last night at 1 a.m. PST, the last of them caught their flight to New Zealand. For the first time in a few days, I headed home to my own bed.

I’d agreed to serve as a volunteer Group Leader for AFS, an internationally respected non-profit exchange service. This week in Los Angeles, AFS sent American high school students to live in Japan and Australia for the summer. In the hours before departure to their respective host countries, AFS walks students through an intensive orientation in which students are introduced to different communication techniques and behaviors which will aid them in their transition to life in their new home.

“Does this orientation really help?” one student headed to Japan asked us over dinner.

Good question. Did I remember any of my pre-departure orientation before I spent a year in Italy? I tried to remember back to 13 years ago. We were high school students stopping in New York for two days before heading overseas to our prospective host families in Italy. Excitement, anticipation, and nerves exhausted us; it was the first time many of us had ever been away from our parents. In the college dorms where our orientation was held, there were more than 50 of us, full of hormones and newfound independence, and we all had something in common: we were all giving up what we knew to be safe and familiar to spend a year of our lives in a foreign country.

I don’t remember much of what our Group Leaders said to us. No doubt they covered the intricacies of high-context and low-context cultures, non-verbal communication, and ways to better integrate into our host families and communities, just as we had with these students. Mostly I recall the students I met at that orientation, and our experiences together during that year, and how our lives have changed in the years that followed.

“Yes,” I told her. What would I have wanted to hear, on the eve of my own departure? I didn’t tell her that her time abroad would change her. The re-entry to one’s native culture after spending time in a host country is often more challenging than leaving home in the first place. How much can parents understand what their children experience while they’re away? My own time as an exchange student was difficult, as were the first years I spent trying to reacclimate to my natural home. Looking back, I found the most comfort in the empathy shared by other exchange students who became my friends, those same people I met during the orientation, with whom I shared nothing else in common.

What would it feel like to live in a nation where each citizen is as comfortable exercising the responsibility to vote as we are our right to watch reality tv?

Is there any place in the world where voting works the way we dream it ought?

Sunday’s election in the European Union may have served more to manifest what appears to be the current apathy of its citizens than their choices regarding the content of the proposed European constitution. In his article today, Thomas Fuller suggests several possible reasons behind a 44.6 percent turnout, a number arguably disappointing.

In my opinion, in this case at least, a bottom line exists. These people were not locked inside the closet and tied to a chair, their life under threat should they go to the polls. All Sunday’s turnout shows for certain is that non-voters acted as though voting were less important than going to see the latest Harry Potter film this weekend.

In this respect, the European Union is not so different from the United States. Thomas Patterson, author of The Vanishing Voter, writes that voting in our country fell to a 39 percent turnout in the 2002 November election, with a low of 18 percent in the congressional primaries. Patterson notes that studies show the voting rate among those at the bottom of the income ladder is only half that of those at the top. Correspondingly, low-income voters were recorded as 30 percent more likely than higher-income groups to feel that the results of the election would have little or no impact on their lives.

How do we get people to exercise their civic responsibility of making their political needs known to the government? Is voting outdated?

Will creating controversy do the trick?

It’s possible the prospect of losing our civil right to vote will make it more desirable. Ina Howard and Greg Palast suggest the advent of computer voting in this November’s election is likely to result in a leap backward in the civil rights movement. The “Help America Vote Act,” which Congress passed in 2002, requires all 50 states to computerize voting files by the November 2004 election. “Suspect” voters will be easy to purge from these voting lists, according to law, by our 50 secretaries of state.

According to Howard and Palast, prior to the 2000 presidential election, Florida Secretary of State Katherine Harris succeeded in removing 57,700 voters from Florida’s vote registries. The reason given for their removal was supposed status as felons and ex-cons. Closer investigation by Palast revealed that the voters removed from the registries shared two characteristics. Not only was “virtually every voter” wrongly accused of felony, many were also registered as African American.

As we learned from The X-Files, the truth is “out there.” The truth in Palast’s discovery may be a shocking revelation of our time. Will it motivate people to vote?

We’re extremely fortunate to live in a society where information runs rampant. Unfortunately, all that information may make people feel overwhelmed. It’s entirely possible non-voters are as overwhelmed by information overload as they appear to be apathetic. If that’s the case, how can we get non-voters to vote?

Perhaps it is radical and simplistic to suggest that we offer voters a little incentive. But it’s also true that, in this country at least, offering “two for one” or “a dollar off your next purchase” goes a long way. What if voters could redeem ballot stubs for five free songs burned off the Internet or a free tank of gas? Would more people vote if a ballot stub could be exchanged for a free lottery ticket and a chance to win 100 million dollars?

Thomas Patterson’s examination of the decrease in our voting population offers several workable solutions. The media networks could do their part by broadcasting the televised debates at prime-time. Campaigns could be shortened to pre-1972 status; Patterson found that long campaigns “tax voters’ attention”. Polling hours could be extended, election day could be made a national holiday, and voter registration could be made automatic. Last but not least, our schools could better prepare, educate, and register our young people for their first election upon graduation.

We are each capable of contributing to the solution. Wouldn’t it be great if we could each just manage to drag ourselves over to the polls on election day? But in case some people need extra help, we can offer a hand to our neighbors on our own, or through organizations we create or to which we belong: our nonprofits, our unions, our religious institutions, our universities.

Patterson is refreshing in that not only does he analyze the problem, he offers tangible solutions. His point is valid. Encouraging citizens to vote may seem like an insurmountable challenge, but we need to recognize the alternative. It would be more difficult still to maintain a democratic system if the majority of the people our government represents has been struck dumb.

Forget solemnity. Forget silence. If it were up to me, I’d honor Ray Charles with a good old New Orleans Jazz Funeral.

I never met Ray Charles. But I got the chance to step into his Los Angeles recording studio a year ago, thanks to a collaboration between Taylor Hackford and The Man himself.

We wrapped up production on Taylor’s feature film about Ray’s life on a glorious June morning. As the camera panned across walls… covered with every imaginable award I was struck by the ordinary appearance of the studio. If I hadn’t known better, I might have assumed this room had housed an insurance office, with clerks making minimum wage, dreaming of weekends off and backyard football parties. How could such ordinary walls have anything to do with the musical miracle we knew as Ray Charles? It’s a tribute to Ray that I forgot, for a time, that for him sound and feel were more important than sight.

Ray was older and wiser than his years,” Quincy Jones has said. “He was one of my gurus. He taught me how to arrange, how to voice horns and reeds. He was this amazing spirit — strong, brilliant, and completely open-minded. At a time when you were either in this camp or that camp, either a bebopper or a bluesman or whatever, Ray was in every camp. ‘It’s all music, man,’ he’d say. ‘We can play it all.’ And we did.”

Given the opportunity to talk about Ray, people first mention his genius and his open-mindedness. His impact on the face of music is so strong that it’s impossible to imagine what music today would be like without his voice and work. Though he began as a Nat King Cole stylist, he decided early on in his career to let his natural style lead the direction of his music:

“ …I started sounding like myself [with the song ‘I got a woman’]. All I was doing was just being natural. Before that I was trying my best to sound like Nat King Cole. I slept Nat King Cole. I ate Nat King Cole. I drank Nat King Cole. I was pretty good at it, too. Everybody was like, ‘Hey, kid, you sound just like Nat King Cole!’ That’s what stopped me. That word, ‘kid.’ Nobody knew my name. I woke up one morning and said, ‘This has got to stop. Remember what your mom told you. You got to be yourself. You got to stop this. Because you’re not doing nothing for yourself.’ So I said, ‘OK, I’m going to sing naturally.’ You dare to be different. It wasn’t like, ‘Now I am going to take country and western and put it with this or I am going to take jazz and put it with that.’ All I said was I’m going to be myself and sing the way I feel. That’s it.”

No matter how many genres he crossed, the results are unmistakably Ray.

As well known for his willingness to risk his career for his beliefs, he was famous for protesting segregation laws at his performances:

“The main problem I had once white people started coming to my concerts is that they would make the black people go upstairs. Then I wouldn’t do the concert and I’d get sued. Naturally, I lost. I’d say, ‘Look, I don’t mind playing my music for anybody, but I’m not going to play and have my people who made what I am sit upstairs.’ So I got sued a lot.”

Neither did he allow music executives’ preconceptions to limit his vision:

“I got a lot of criticism. But my mom always had this thing about being yourself. I was successful being myself so why should I worry about somebody who don’t like it? When I did the first country album, ABC said ‘You’re going to lose a lot of fans, Ray. You’re really a blues artist.’ I said, ‘I think you’re probably right, but my feeling is if I do this right, I’ll gain more fans than I lose.’ As it turned out, I was lucky. I was right again. You got to always focus on what you’re doing. You can’t let yourself slip into what other people want.”

For Ray, music came first. No obstacle could come between him and the music. True to character, in an interview with VH1, he didn’t lament the days of segregation, he praised music instead: “The only thing I can say about that time in my life is thank God for music. If music hadn’t been there to help me through all of this, I wouldn’t have made it.”

In conversations about him, the obstacles Ray overcame are rarely mentioned. He had three points against him, as far as identity and culture are concerned: extreme poverty, blindness, and blackness in the segregated South where he grew up. Ray Charles transcended them all. Maybe his legacy, in addition to his music, shows us that it’s not which identity or which culture we begin with that determines our future. Rather, these elements are only tools we are given to forge something brilliant in the world that will elevate our own life and the lives of others.

In his piece, “A Meeting with the Man,” Dave Alvin provides a little consolation for those of us who never met him, as he recalls his own brush with Brother Ray:

“I rode in a freight elevator once with Ray Charles. …Awestruck, I stood staring at Ray, who was smiling and softly humming a melody to himself. I tried to think of something original to say, but what could I possibly tell him that he’d never heard before? ‘Gee, Mister Charles, I’m your biggest fan!’ or ‘Hey, Brother Ray, what’s shakin’ baby?’ I don’t think so…

“Did Ray Charles really need some stranger in an elevator telling him how much of a revolutionary he’s been in a country so musically, culturally, and racially segregated? Or how his music represents everything many of us believe America is ideally supposed to be: open-minded, compassionate, independent, adventurous — willing to explore the new without discarding what was good in the old. I just kept my mouth shut and listened to Ray’s humming.”

A genius has left us. And, as Samirah Evans put it so well on her Bluesy Blues Show this afternoon on WWOZ, how fortunate we are that he left us so much of his music and his inimitable voice. That extraordinary gift of music he gave the world is powerful enough to turn our remembrances of Ray into a celebration of life.

At 18, I didn’t want to go to college in the first place. At 22, armed with a B.A., I swore I would never return. Now, why am I going back for a Ph.D.?

Last weekend, I went to a baby shower. The sun was out in Hollywood, and the caterers had outdone themselves. I feasted on salads and mineral water while watching babies and children in Armani crawl across the lawn and play the unceasing array of games they’re so brilliant at inventing, minute by minute.

An unexpected thought sprang to mind; I guess I had let down my guard. It was: hey, if I’m lucky, I’ll be 34 or 35 when I receive my doctorate. That’s a little old to have kids, isn’t it?

This thought made no sense. First of all, my pregnant friend, whom we were celebrating, is 36. I’ve also heard since I was first called a tomboy that women these days can have babies well into their 40s. (This, of course, is frowned upon by several of my Italian friends. It’s not natural, they tell me. It’s not fair to the children.)

Of course, even knowing it was nonsensical didn’t stop me from doing a double-take.

An only child, I’ve never given much thought to having kids.  Somehow I grew up believing my first objective would be to find some sort of occupation which would permit the things I considered necessary to existence: freedom and time to pursue creative projects and visit my dispersed family, enough to pay the bills, and the opportunity to throw myself into my work without being interrupted. Love interests and children being a distraction, I decided they would have to wait until after I discovered my ideal career. How else could I be sure I’d be able to pay for them?

Life being what it is, at 29, I’m still searching for the perfect career.

Or maybe it’s just taken me 29 years to see the writing on the wall.

As so many of my friends in the United States are getting married, having children, and buying their first homes, I’m made ever more aware I have little tangible evidence that what I’ve been doing since graduation has been anything other than a waste of time. In fact, I’ve given up my $600 a month apartment I never had time to visit, and despite the fact that I live in Los Angeles, I’m seriously considering selling my car. In addition, by going back to school, I’m abandoning an exciting, lucrative film career for a grad student salary of $15,000 a year.

Call me crazy.

Times are changing. I could argue that in Italy, children continue living with their parents into their 40s, marry later, and are still going to school in their 30s. Not so different from what I’m doing. However, as far as Italy is concerned, it remains to be seen how the European Union and the euro will change that lifestyle over the next decade.

As my decision is made known to my former classmates, I’ve been surprised by how many of us are questioning the tradition of settling down, taking on lifetime-length financial responsibilities, and taking leave of our families. At the same time, making the decision to “leave the real world” and go back to school has been more difficult than I had anticipated, and not in any of the ways I expected.

Even armed with the news that I’m not alone in the way my life is turning out as I near my 30s, I’m fighting a subtle backlash. I wonder whether it’s exclusively American. With not a little embarrassment, I remember how, at 24, I told my Italian friend, a painter, that he should start taking responsibility for himself and get a job. Five years later, he’s still living with his mother in Rome. He’s also well on his way to becoming a celebrated working modern artist, and his mother is in no hurry for him to leave.

It’s not simple for me to watch as my boyfriend sticks with his 17-year career as a camera assistant, and with his responsibilities as a father and as a son. I watch as my mother, a single career woman, continues to work with no end in sight, in order to support the lifestyle she loves, a lifestyle which is usually made easier by two breadwinners instead of one. Both of them have more responsibilities than I, and neither of them have ever looked back. Just as I have kept my responsibilities to a minimum, and not without sacrifice.

Whose world is more real, anyway? Theirs or mine?

Somehow at 18, going to college seemed like an escape from the real world. After being out of school for seven years, going back feels like I’m entering the real world, though I’m constantly aware that to others, I may appear to be making my escape. It’s a liberation to know, by past experience, that I can live on the $15,000 a year that my fellowship is offering. It won’t be easy, but it’s a choice I’m making with eyes wide open. Maybe I won’t be able to host elaborate dinner parties and take my parents on vacation as I hope I’ll be able to do one day. But getting my Ph.D. will be my first job which pays me to do what I do best, and what I would do even without being paid to do it.

I was happy to get back to the United States this time. What a shock.

Everyone who knows me knows about my love affair with Italy. I’ve made sure of it. A bad day in Italy is better than a good day in the United States. I’m having my baby on Italian soil so he/she can have it easier jumping cultures than it has been for me. Kings and queens had the right idea: the only reason to get married is to get a green card. But I’d rather die than get married. Why should I have to get married to be legal to work in Italy?

Why was I ready to come back from Italy this time? Was it my job? No. In fact, I resigned the morning of my return. Did I miss my boyfriend? No. He was there with me. Did I miss L.A. traffic? Not.

Here it comes: I wanted to swim in my smelly, ugly, cold Santa Monica Y pool. Aren’t there pools in Italy? Yes, and I have swam in them. The thing is, going to the pool is something I do day after day, so I just want it to be easy. When I compare a visit to my local YMCA pool with going to any old pool in Italy, it’s easier in the U.S. Why? In Italy, you may or may not need a doctor’s permission to be able to swim. Other times it’s just a money situation like it is here. Pay, swim. Sometimes there’s no towel at the pool in Italy like at the Y and you have to drip dry. It all depends. I can handle that for other things. But I don’t want to waste time on variables when I swim.

So you could say it was a time thing. Swimming and going to the gym take a chunk of time out of the day. Three hours gone (snap). Like that.

That must be it. After all, the whole point of the trip was to spend time in Italy together, sharing what I love most with the person I spend the most time with these days. My boyfriend.

Did we spend time together? Yes. Awake, or asleep? Well, a bit of it we spent asleep. Awake, we shopped a lot, an activity foreign to me. We ate a lot. Also an activity foreign to me. Although it’s a good habit to have, and it’s fun to do in company. We also argued a lot. An activity foreign to me. Well…

We do argue. Kind of. Most of the time we agree. In the United States that is. It works like this: Anthony states his opinion and does things his way and, for the most part, I go along with him. In a nutshell: While he likes physical comfort, I like mental comfort. He makes a lot of money, and gets more responsible things accomplished in a day than I do. I prefer to do the minimum responsible required so that I leave myself the maximum freedom to work on creative projects. Needless to say, I make a lot less money than he does. I also feel free to work on my projects. He doesn’t.

I say we don’t argue much in the U.S. because we spent a month together in New Orleans last year. Our relationship in New Orleans was easy; it was a dream. I loved it. Okay, he was working. I had just finished a job. My reward to myself was a block of time to work on short stories.

Hey, wait a minute. Now that I think about it, we really didn’t spend all that much time together in New Orleans. We couldn’t. He was doing film work, which means I spent 10 to 12 hours every day writing all alone. He would come home, we would eat or not eat, enjoy a little time together, go to bed. Weekends we spent gallivanting around Jazz Fest, flying up to NY (another story), visiting plantations, hanging out with set buddies, visiting swamps, and feeding marshmallows to alligators.

Maybe the trip to Italy was more difficult because we spent more time there together. Twenty-four seven really. And have we done that before? Not really, not since we started hanging out, and not ever for five weeks straight. Okey dokey, then.

Well, shoot. What’s ideal? What’s the solution? Why can’t everybody get along?

On the other hand, as my Aunt Shirley said this morning, it’s pretty remarkable people get along as well as they do. We build roads, we build countries. We haven’t self-destructed yet, despite the number of people and opinions co-existing on this planet.

What if she’s right?
Why do we try to push toward an ideal? (Is that American?).
What about ‘If it’s not broken don’t fix it’?

In Italy last month, we certainly heard a lot of badmouthing going on about the U.S. and what we’re doing outside our borders. What does that say about the relationship between Italy and the U.S.? Is it falling apart? Should it be fixed?

Well, can we fly there? Can they fly here? Yes. Can we learn Italian here and there? Can they learn English here or there? Yes. Can we share our products? Yes. Well then, sounds good. Not broken. Don’t fix it.

That was easy. Was it too easy?

Maybe the thing to ask is this: Should we be doing more to help them? Well, should they be doing more to help us?

Can’t we help ourselves and not expect too much from others? My friend Narayan says it’s smart to be as self-reliant as possible. That way, if others choose to help us, we’ll be appreciative rather than expecting they should, in which case we feel frustrated or offended when they don’t.

Or how about this: Can I shut up about what I love? More precisely, can I shut up about Italy? I did say we spent a lot of time together on our trip. I didn’t say how much we shared. I shared. Too much. Anthony is a saint.

It could be we share what we love to make sure that people are informed. That way, they can make choices and lead fuller lives. If we’re lucky it’s not because we want to shame them into acting, and doing what we want them to do.

I’m well aware that I sing Italy’s praises day and night. It didn’t help us in Italy. Did it break our relationship? Let’s see.

Are we still together? Yes. Do I still love him? Yes. Does he do things that annoy me? Yes. Does he love me? Yes. Do I do things that annoy him? Yes. But we also do things that are wonderful and loving and generous, too. Let’s say we appreciate each other more than we annoy each other. How do I know I can speak for him? Well, we’re still together. If at some point in the future he decides to leave me, I can conclude that I annoy him more than he appreciates me. But for now, we’re together and we like it. That means what we have is not broken. So there’s nothing to fix, right?

The real risk here is what it means to admit that for the first time in my life, I was ready to come back to the U.S. I am risking something: my identity as a trans-Italian. Maybe I don’t want people to think they’re right about me. I really am American at heart. Italy really isn’t so great. I’m just like everyone else. Whatever.

Or is it I don’t want to admit it to myself? Italy has been a big part of my identity for so long. Thirteen years now, and counting. It’s been my passion. What does admitting I was ready to leave my huge passion say about me? Does it mean my dream is dead? Am I no longer useful to people as a role model for pursuing dreams?

Who cares.  

I do love speaking Italian, and going over there. I love Italian culture. I admire their traditions of going home for lunch and taking a few weeks off every August. (These traditions are changing, by the way.) I don’t think it would hurt us to spend a little more time away from our jobs. People do have value if work is not their priority in life, you know. (Gasp!).

Regardless of how I appear, nothing changes my decision to start a grad program in Italian Lit this fall. What for? Well, because I love it. Huh? What are you going to do with a doctorate in Italian Lit? I don’t know. Use it as writing fodder, maybe. Same thing I did with my BA in Theater from U.C. Santa Cruz. (Funny thing is, most of my post-BA jobs have been in theater or film, so there you have it).