​You might think that in a lesbian family, Mothers' Day is kind of a big deal.  Two moms, right?! But having come out later in life, I never got to experience first-hand that lovely, two-mom relationship I often admire with some envy when I come across a young family lead by two women.

My co-parent didn't arrive on the scene until my kids -- who still have a regular relationship with their dad -- were 6 years old. (They're 13 now!)  

​And although they often joke that she is the best "Second Mother" (not "second best", they explain) around, and even tell her that she is the only step-mom they have ("no questions asked", as one kid affirmed in writing in his mothers' day card to her this morning), she is, still, after all, "just" a step-parent, with all the self-imposed guilt and other emotional drama that entails.

In terms of my relationship with my own mother, that also comprises its fair share of emotional drama: Orphaned at 21, I don't have any instagram-worthy photos to share of my beautiful adult relationship with my mother, because I don't have one. 

So I'll spend today's blog post instead sharing my reflections about some observations I had the unique opportunity to make this weekend, while attending a Girls CAN Fly event at a nearby airport.

Canadian Aviation Pride, an organization I volunteer with, had been asked to set up a booth in the hangar.

We did our usual assortment of pre-made rainbow airplane necklaces to sell, and also set out other beads so that kids and their families could make their own necklaces, rainbow or otherwise, before or after their flight. This afforded me the opportunity to observe how families would "help" especially their youngest children with a self-chosen task.

With so many colourful beads on display, most children wanted to string their own necklaces, and it was remarkable how many parents simply could not let their 3-, 4- and 5-year-olds do the fine motor practice until they worked it out.  Each necklace included a chain and 6 beads, and barely a child got to the third bead before a well-meaning parent took over the task and just did it for them.

The first steps to the learned helplessness I witnessed so very often in my middle school classrooms!

Watching a child struggle with a task is hard, no question, but with encouragement and time, most children can complete many "difficult" tasks on their own or with limited support, and the research shows that it is actually good for them to engage in this struggle.  

The other thing that amazed me was how many of the parents basically vetoed their kids' choices of bead colour, style and placement in order to make the necklace as they (the parent) thought it ought to be, rather than how the child herself envisioned it.  I kid you not, I witnessed one parent keep telling his kid to choose different beads than she was choosing, because that would "look better", and watched in amazement while another dad fully removed four of his daughter's six beads, and replace them with different ones, to make a pattern he thought looked better!

It's easy to watch and judge, of course, and so I spent the rest of the weekend pondering my own influences on my kids... of course I want to guide them and expose them to things I deem "valuable", but am I making sure to honour their individual choices as well, even if they differ from my own?

Working so much with the Kindergarten Program this year in my new job, I am well familiar with how important it is for teachers to support students' development of their own identities as learners.  I wonder how well I have done with this as a parent?  I am determined to renew my commitment to developing my own children's resilience, strength and confidence!

Anyone in the know when it comes quadricycles in the GTA has heard by now that (after 32 years) the Toronto Island Cycle Rental is going out of business.  Just this past week I read that they would be selling off their inventory -- including over 40 quads -- over the Easter weekend.

On a whim, I decided we had to have one!

I mean, really, who wouldn't jump at the chance to own a little piece of Toronto Island history?  And hey, we live right on the lakefront cycle path -- what an opportunity!

Even the kids were game to contribute a significant chunk of their own money, and once I had convinced my partner and our family friend that we'd be able to actually get the thing home and not get stuck and kick it into the lake after the first km pedaling back, I began planning my strategy.

Easter weekend begins on Good Friday.  Lots of people off work; there was bound to be a line-up!

After a bit of googling, I discovered that there seemed to be some sort of a pre-sale the Sunday before, weather permitting, from 2-4 p.m.  I vowed to be there promptly at 2 p.m., cash in hand.

I knew that the older quadricyles that were 4-seaters were going for $800 - 1000, and that was our budget (there was also a handful of new ones, a year old, for $3000, but that was too rich for our blood).

The Early Bird

Imagine our surprise, then, when we arrived at the ferry dock an hour beforehand and were greeted by the sight of multiple disembarking passengers already riding their "new" quads off the Wards Island Ferry (winter schedule still, no Centre ferry yet) and into the city!!!  

How had these people found out about the secret pre-sale and snuck their way in early?  Outrageous!

Undeterred, I led the way onto the boat, the dog (we had elected to bring her along) eagerly sniffing to the air beside us, delighted at the unfamiliar but not unwelcome smell of adventure.

Hope Fades

Alas, as we got off the ferry at Wards, we observed an additional quantity of the much-coveted rachity old machines now belovedly being pedaled by their jubilant new owners, and my heart began to sink.  Maybe we were too late, I worried, doing some quick mental calculations about what we had seen, and how many -- roughly -- I knew there to be for sale.

My fears were confirmed when I chatted with a single rider in a faded canopy-covered two-seater who pedaled slowly past me down the way as she confirmed that the only rides still being peddled up the path were three of the newer 4-seaters at $3000 a piece, and several single bikes.

Having come this far, we marched on towards Centre, where my informant's facts were tragically upheld.  

After looking longingly at the $3000 machines (there were only two left now), and briefly considering a splurge, I defeatedly slumped onto a bench along the path across from the bike shop, next to my partner and our doggie, and watched other hopefuls equally disappointed as they eagerly approached the stand and then became aware that their whimsical dream was not to come to fruition today.

Lunch, Playground and Ferry

By now, the boys had also arrived on the Island (they'd come down and met our friend after a morning commitment elsewhere in the city), and my partner, our dog and I walked back along the path towards the Wards Island Ferry Docks to meet them for a quick stop at the pirate playground and the picnic lunch we were supposed to have enjoyed while pedaling back on our new and unusual treasure.

We then joined other early spring island visitors for the ride back to the city, quadricycle-less, but $800 richer than we would have been, had our venture been "successful".

We took some comfort in knowing that at least the dawg had fun!

Some might say we dodged a bullet, and I agree that after the initial excitement of riding with friends around the neighbourhood bike path, a quadricycle would likely have become an underused toy, challenging to store and maintain.  

​But I would be lying if I said I wasn't just a wee bit sad about not getting one!

My kids have their first "part time job":  Recently accepted as part of an ongoing nutrition study at Ryerson, Alex and Simon have committed to trekking downtown for the next several weekends to spend 4 hour stretches at the nutrition lab. 

When I was their age, I was pushing a coffee cart around the basement of a smoky bingo hall... Instead of drawing coffee, the boys are drawing blood samples -- their own; 2-3 drops every 40 minutes or so -- and filling in mood and hunger surveys over the course of their 4 hour visit each week to be analysed by a team of researchers.

The monetary compensation for their efforts is comparable to my bingo hall coffee cart adventures, if one accounts for inflation.  Only, while I would try and sneak a chocolate bar here and there, they actually get fed breakfast and an all-you-can-eat pizza lunch as part of their "work".  These are the kind of perks of the job I did not experience until a few years later, when my Sunday mornings were spent opening the breakfast shift at my local McDonald's!

It's intriguing how much money drives their desire to participate; when I was 12, I was still deep into my sticker collection.  My minuscule paycheques primarily supported my junk food addiction and visits to the just-emerging dollar stores in the neighbourhood to buy new stickers or sticker albums. Theirs will be dedicated towards more lofty goals: Simon is saving for his own computer, and Alex wants a "Toronto Marijuana Leafs" jersey. Whereas I wanted a part time job less for the money and more for the social aspect of things (all my "cool" friends were getting jobs), it was the idea of a big chunk of coin at the end of the study that prompted Alex and Simon's interest in giving up large portions of their "free time"!

Although Alex was less resistant than Simon about working on his journal daily while in Cuba, the gig was up when we got home.  The working copy of the journal was all I ever got out of him!

Thankfully, he did manage to capture quite a few details of the trip enroute, for example, his write up about La Habana, below...

There was also his commentary (albeit brief, i.e. "fine") about being unplugged:

(For the record, I do NOT "yell" at him "all the time" -- or ever, really -- to get off his device, lol!)

There was also his recount of the snorkeling adventure at Playa Coral...

His review of the resort was Trip Advisor worthy!

On the plane ride home, Alex summarized the trip nicely, but skipped the parts he decided he wouldn't be doing.  Oh well, at least he's an honest writer!

During our recent stint in Cuba, I asked my two kids to complete a reflective journal each day.  Simon, who had been the less delighted of the two about this prospect, wowed us all with his write up on return.  In addition to typing several pages worth, he requested feedback and willingly returned to the project to to make changes based on that feedback.  

His final results are below...

First Impressions

When we first got to Cuba, I saw a lot of green (plants and shrubbery). Because of these plants, I smelled extremely fresh air. However, during the trip I got used to it so I didn't notice it as much, but when we got back to Toronto, I could smell the difference. In Toronto, the air smells more industrial. Saying this though, I have to remember that the taste of the food in Cuba was a bit bland but the food at the resort was terrible. All the food was hard, bland, soft, etc etc... . They even ruined chicken!

One thing I noticed was that there were many different races. There wasn’t really one noticeable majority because there were many colours of people, black, latino, white; you name it! I was surprised by this because I thought all the Cubans would be Latino.

Our Resort

So those were my first impressions on Cuba but let me tell you more about the Resort. Our room was pretty cold (colder than the air outside). Unfortunately, we didn’t realize that we could just change the temperature of the room until over halfway through our trip . Uggh!

The room had two double beds and a cot that the cleaning staff brought in for one of us to sleep on. The walls of the room were dark blue.

The pool was cold so we didn’t really swim in it other than the first day. However, never mind the pool, because the beach was almost perfect(the only problem was the salt water). I quote Alex when I say “the beach was very salty and it was disgusting to accidentally swallow water. There were also lots of straw umbrellas and plastic chairs to have relaxation at its best.”

I already talked about how bad the food was so never mind that, however, let me talk about the lobby. The lobby was very big. To plant a good picture in your mind, let me describe how it looked. It had three levels, the main level which has the front desk, washrooms, cafe, gift shop, entrance, seating area, and other smaller details. The second level has a stage for the band (which was one of the best ones I’ve ever heard) and seating area. The third level has two restaurants, a bar, and seating area. The place didn’t have a roof but rather a huge, green covering un attached made of stone and wood with beams supporting it. The lobby also had a green ramp coming down from the third level all the way down to the main level (the ramp also opened up at the second level) and a lot of potted plants.

La Habana

Before we got there I thought the city would be really old because Mom kept saying “Havana is an old historical city.” However, when we got on the tour bus going to Havana, I learned some real facts. I already knew that it’s the capital city but I didn’t know that the city is home to three million people which is about one fourth of the country's eleven million residents.

When we got there, i realised that the city was crowded and LOUD! Forget New York, this is the real city that never sleeps. People were up partying all night.

Soon enough we met our host. They had a really nice house (they were probably pretty rich for Cuban standards). Everything was neat, tidy, and they even had a balcony with a nice view of the street below. I thought “Yes, Score” until they showed us the rickety spiral staircase behind us. At the top of those stairs was our place (the place ended up being nicer than, or as nice as, theirs with three beds spread across two bedrooms, two balconies, other living necessities, and a microwave that might explode at any moment so no need to worry). Dam!

The Town of Varadero

Other than Havana we also visited the town of Varadero although, we did not stay there overnight.

While most of our rides to places cost money, we ended up getting a free ride there after haggling with our bus driver (we did give him toys, hygiene items, and clothes though so it wasn’t exactly free). When we got to the town of Varadero, the first thing we did was buy my friend Muneeb a mini Baseball Bat tourist item because he loves bat sports. Then, we walked around an industrial part of town that my Mom said was allegedly a residential area. Heh, heh, No! Next, we went to a local art market (really it was just kind of a tourist market, in fact, the whole town was infested with tourists). After that, we rode in a taxi shaped like a helmet to one of the local beaches and swam in the clean and clear water there. The taxi was one of my favourite parts of the entire trip partially because of all the fresh air in my face as we zoomed through the streets. Finally, we took an old fashioned taxi car home, which we payed for (something different about Cuba compared to most places is that most of the cars there are old fashioned and most of the people who own cars there are cabbies because very few people have a car there).

Other Fun Activities

Some other things we did were snorkelling and seeing a dolphin show. First, I’m going to talk about snorkelling. This was the first time I've been snorkelling. I really enjoyed it. We saw lots of fish and various different colours and types of coral. Our guide even showed us a starfish! He also gave us a sea urchin but in return we gave him clothing. One thing I didn't enjoy about snorkelling was that I had to keep my legs super stiff in order for the coral and sea life to not rub against my legs.

While Alex and I were Snorkelling, our Mom had her own adventure. Allegedly she bought herself and our driver a pin encalada then watched us snorkel.

Later, we went to a dolphinarium to see a dolphin show. The dolphins did cool stuff like dancing and balancing things on there nose. They also jumped through hoops, shot basket balls, and gave high fives to the trainers. All of that aside though because the star of the show was a little baby dolphin that kept smiling, laughing, and overall just being bad.

Life without Internet

It was very difficult for me not to have internet for two reasons.
First of all, I couldn’t watch youtube or do a lot of things I like to do. However, my second reason was that I felt like I couldn't show my Mom my full potential for documenting our trip. As it is I type as slow as Molasses but writing, OMG! I was being sloppy with my work because I felt that it would be bad anyway. I’m hoping that after reading this my Mom will see my full potential (I know she does, but it will still feel good to complete this).

All of that aside though, what I did like about not having internet was that I was more observant because I wasn’t just thinking about getting back to my screen. I felt like I enjoyed this trip more than any I’ve ever gone on before.

To conclude this part, I would like to say that I think people should take a break from internet for a straight twenty-four hours every two months.

Last thoughts

Before I end off this article I would like to give anyone planning on going to Cuba a huge tip. GO SOON because times are changing. The leader of Cuba Fidel Castro has just passed away meaning anything can happen (including the price of things in Cuba) so go now!

​When my mother and grandmother used to travel with me a hundred years ago before the omnipresence of smartphones and social media (heck, the Internet was not even a “thing” yet!), we’d pack our bags and head out of the country for two weeks or longer.  

The only contact we’d have with the folks back home was a postcard here and there, and sometimes maybe one long distance phone call just to let everyone know we’d arrived safely or something. There were no Facebook updates, Instagram photos or Twitter hashtags - people back home simply had to wait for the in-person update when we got back home at the end of the trip.  

The payoff for this was that while traveling, we were fully immersed in the moment, conscious of the experiences we were having and the people we were having them with.

Unless you want to spend silly amounts of time and money surfing ridiculously slow internet the lobby of your dilapidated hotel, Cuba offers an opportunity to go “old school” for your vacation, as ubiquitous and accessible wifi is still an emerging concept here.  

And that’s just what we did, my boys and I.

Alex and Simon and I left our devices at home when we headed out the door to the airport at 3:30 a.m. last Friday morning, and I’m grateful that we did so.

Withdrawal Symptoms

I should preface my praises for disconnecting with an admission that I had some pretty significant anxiety the first 48 hours without my smartphone.  

For starters, feeling for that little key to the world in my pocket at all times has become almost a subconscious habit. I literally would reach for my iPhone multiple times a day: While standing in line at the airport, while waiting for the hotel shuttle bus to arrive at the airport, and at many other times once at the resort, just to check email, texts or update my Instagram feed. It was a surprise to me every time at first that the phone wasn't there!

Another thing I missed was the ability to look things up in a flash:

• Does the Delfinaro in Varadero violate animal rights? (maybe)  
• When was the “Special Period”?  (1990-2005-ish)
• How far is it from our Casa Particular to the Malecon  (about a block, as it turned out!)

With the exception of the latter fact, which we were able to find out fairly quickly by looking at one of the maps in our Lonely Planet Cuba Guide  and by simply walking around after checking in with our Casa owner, all my “need to know” questions had to wait until I could find someone  to engage with who spoke enough English and knew more about Cuba than where the nearest bar was at the all-inclusive resort.  Or wait until our return to Canada and the relatively fast, free wifi we enjoy here.

Finally, being out of text, phone or email range from my partner for a full week was a bit unnerving at first, since we’d never been apart for any length of time without some sort of digital access before. But “absence makes the heart grow fonder” as they say, and in the end, it was probably a good and healthy thing to have such a clearly demarked break from one another.

Time

Being without my phone also meant having relatively little idea of what time it was, most of the time. Our resort lobby had a clock, as did the living room in the Havana Casa Particular where we spent a night, but other than that, we basically had to gauge what time it was by estimating the passage of time since our last confirmation, or checking -- in the morning and early evening -- by how bright it was outside.  

That was a bit of a strange feeling at first, since I am so used to living by the clock (10-o-clock meeting, 2 p.m. deadline, 6 p.m. dinner, “family time” 7:30 - 8:15, kids’ tuck-in at 9, and so on).

But it didn’t take long to let go of the stringent schedule, and just respond to our mental and physical sense of what we “should” be doing at different points throughout the day.

Freedom

Being free from daily reminders of all the lunacy going on in the world due to limited access to news of the latest racism, homophobia and misogyny in governments nearby was a welcome break.

After the initial awkwardness of feeling like we had to constantly know what time it was and whether anyone had texted us or updated their Youtube or Instagram feeds in the past three minutes, things started to get a whole lot better.

I began to read the book I had brought with me, and got so into it that I felt compelled to read aloud sections to the boys.  They in turn became fascinated by Trevor Noah’s coming-of-age tales from Apartheid South Africa and demanded I keep reading more.  This became a daily ritual, at the beach, by the pool, in the hotel lobby…
​
Cards were big, too: On the bus to Havana, in the brief moments we spent in our hotel room during transitions, and under the shade of our beach umbrella, the boys played everything from 21 to Crazy 8s to President, and I was obliged to join them.

We played more cards this week than in the past 12 months!

The best thing about being disconnected was that the daily digital distraction of the device was replaced by an ever-increasing, in-the-moment appreciation of the sights, sounds and other sensual flavours all around: The azures and aqua-marines of the Atlantic mesmerized me, and not just for a moment while I grabbed my phone to snap a photo to post on social media.  

Nopes, not having the temptation of my digital device at my fingertips for a week meant I had the freedom to just stare out at the ocean and enjoy the view for a full ten minutes, or an hour, or all day, as I basically did at least once during our time in Varadero.  It also meant that I would often glance up from my book, rather than being sucked in by the endless labyrinth that a screen and internet access provides, and enjoy magical moments that my 12-year-old twins were sharing with one another in the ocean, on the beach, doing card tricks, or engrossed in a good book together.

Vacation Photos

One facet of leaving my phone at home that had made me particularly nervous was the absence of a camera. But once on vacation, the boys and I quickly adopted the habit of capturing moments in our memories by pausing and holding our hands up to our face and making a “click” sound whenever something especially wondrous caught our eye.

We also spent some time each day completing the travel journals I had prepared for them ahead of time, though truth be told, Alex and I were considerably more enthusiastic about and committed to this little project than Simon was.

I am hoping to blog my own travel journal notes when I have some time over the coming week, so that the wonderful memories don’t fade too far into the mental abyss -- while more comprehensive than photos, memories do tend to have a far shorter lifespan than digital images!

I recognize that the Internet provides access to a global network of knowledge and perspective, and that these things often translate into power, and in general I am in strong favour of access as a fundamental human right in the 21 Century. Nevertheless,  given our privileged position as westerners not living below the poverty line in a country where we have the luxury of consistent access, I feel that our brief hiatus from the world wide web was a beneficial one for us. The peace and reduced sense of urgency facilitated by the absence of constant connection to the outside was a feeling I'd not had in a long time.

All in all, I am in favour of such regular unpluggings, and am thinking of practical ways to make purposeful internet and social media breaks a part of our family’s regular routine.

  So we're going to Cuba, and we're not taking any electronics.

The last time I was in Cuba was a hundred years ago, before the Special Period, and certainly well before smart phones and ubiquitous wifi (which is not so ubiquitous in Cuba anyway).  I was about 12 years old, and I survived. Imagine!

So now I have two 12-year-olds who are virtually connected most if not all of the time.  Given Cuba's limited (emerging?) connectivity and our short time (one week) there, we've decided it's best if we just go digitally naked for the week.  In an age where one's personal digital devices is not only one's phone and wifi connection, but also one's map, alarm clock and camera, among other things, it's a pretty significant decision.

​That being said, I'm not about to give up the opportunity to document our experiences, despite not having a camera or the ability to blog or post to Instagram in real time.  I've made a lovely little workbook for the kids and for me to journal our adventures...

Truth be told, when I shared this little gem with Alex and Simon, it went over like a lead balloon.

"But we're supposed to be on VACATION!", Simon lamented.  

He was particularly unimpressed with the suggested learning goal and success criteria I had noted on the inside cover.  Their 7-year-old selves would have loved it, but their adolescent selves were not so easily bamboozled by fancy fonts and bold borders on clean, white printer paper.

Alex, at least, succumbed to the colourful cardstock and little sticky note tickets I introduced to sweeten the deal, and even got into the spirit of crafting his little workbook, posing obediently for a photo.

Simon was not so easily swayed, and the activist in him continued to protest in any way he could; three guesses which of the three booklets below is his!

For all his groaning and complaining, though, I know he's excited about the trip, and I'm willing to bet my bottom CUC that he'll jump on board within 24 hours of our 4 a.m. airport arrival on Friday and get on with the journal-ling.  (In between swimming in the pool and the ocean, that is!)

#TeacherMomAF

P.S. Want to make your own travel journal for your kids or a student in your class who will be away?  Download the word doc below, and customize the text to suit your needs.  If you want to take it to the next level, arrange the pages so that you can print back to back and have a self contained booklet!

​Our friend is in Washington.

Almost lost this friendship, we did, after the Trump election...

An ex-pat American, this friend is politically liberal, but the Trump election tried the best of them, it did. Many a liberal, especially (though not exclusively) of the white, straight, able-bodied male persuasion was challenged to understand the mindset of the very people they professed to support, stretched to come to terms with what it really means to be an ally.  

I know our friendship was not the only one tried at this time.  The media was full of stories of lost or shaky friendships as a result of this particular election.

Eventually we had dinner.  And a conversation.  And as our straight, white, able-bodied friend noted that while he supported LGBTQ rights, he would probably not wear the "Teaching with Pride" rainbow t-shirt I had given him last summer out and about (because he just "didn't want to bother answering people's questions"), he began to see that those of us who can't leave our proverbial t-shirts at home (because it's who we are in our sex, gender, skin colour, sexuality, physical ability, etc.) are sick to our stomachs with fear and disgust over the apparent mainstreaming of racism, homophobia and generalized bigotry that this election has shone a spotlight on.

Our friend started to see how those of us who were suddenly and forcefully being re-oppressed might feel a little impatient with those alleged allies who still didn't "get it".

What to do?

Our friend wondered what he should do to demonstrate his sincere support, and offered to make a donation to the Women's March, to help support those who needed to pay for travel expenses and lodging while there.

His thinking reminded me of a song by 1980's Christian pop icon Keith Green, who himself was fed up with people always sending money instead of acting themselves, and who insisted that Jesus Commands us to Go!

The Women's March is for Everyone

At first, our friend didn't understand that he could and should go to the march in Washington.  Surely a straight white guy like him didn't belong there, he insisted.  But in time, we convinced him that his presence would be very much welcomed and needed.

Yes, he was only one person, but so was every other individual person who was going to  ultimately make up the more than half a million people that formed the Washington crowd (plus millions at sister marches and rallies all over the world)!

Yes he was a man, but women and children needed to see men who were not misogynistic pigs supporting them, and their mothers, and their sisters.  Ditto for the "but I'm not black/gay/disabled" arguments.

Besides, we told him, it would be a great chance to him to reconnect with a long lost cousin and meet an internet friend from the Chess server who lived in the area.

And so, with a little more convincing (and considerable paper chasing -- it turned out his American passport had long expired, and his current Canadian passport was of little value in crossing the border), the old man finally bought an overpriced, last minute airline ticket and got going to his Motherland.

Those of us who stayed behind rallied together and got the man a pink pussy hat to take with him on his adventures.  It's the least we could do.

First, a Little Sightseeing

Eager to get first-hand accounts of the happenings, we sent along strict instructions for our friend to update us with regular texts and photos.

He did not disappoint.

Arriving the day before the inauguration, he wandered about Washington, taking photos and sending his observations like a good little tourist...

​First came  an excited text and photo of the recently completed National Museum of African American History and Culture, behind which there was apparently "some tall pointy thing" to be seen.

Then this photo and caption:

Our friend was also excited to discover that he was not the only man wearing a pink hat, as the next text proclaimed that he had just "spotted a guy walking north along 17th St wearing a pussy hat"!

Following this came a series of three photos...

Saturday morning came photos and commentary about the journey to the march.

We the People

Soon after this, the text texts stopped, ​save for a quick observation that "thousands of people are wearing pussy hats".  Indeed, both the photos that followed, and an Internet search on the Women's March revealed an encouraging sea of pink.

In attendance at the march were many celebrities, including Angela Davis, Michael Moore, and of course, Gloria Steinem.  As the latter urged towards the end of her 10-minute call to action, "Make sure you introduce yourselves to each other and decide what we're gonna do tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow."

These marches were only the beginning of the revolution.

​I'm glad you were there, Rick!

So, it’s Christmas holidays, and I finally, finally have three minutes to myself to catch up on some blogging. ​