Archives for the month of: December, 2011

Donna Louise here working on my year-end letter which will appear in two parts. Today the Kwanzaa principle is Kuumba (Creativity)—to always do what we can to leave our community in a much better place. My review of the year satisfies that principle.


 Dear Friends,

2011 SUCKED and not in a good way. When I reviewed the Christmas/Holiday letters, spoke with friends, and surveyed a random group of strangers, the word most frequently used to describe 2011 was “SUCKED!!!”


Arab “Spring” began inTunisia (in the dead of winter) and spread across the Arab world. 2011 became “Arab Rebellion Year” with more trouble coming in 2012.


Jane Russell died. Remember her 1970’s “’Cross-Your-Heart Bra’ for us full-figured girls” commercial? Still one of Playtex bras’ best remembered ads. Or, how about her role opposite Marilyn Monroe in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes?


A 9.1 magnitude earthquake hit northeastern Japan and damaged four nuclear reactors, a “once in a lifetime occurrence” but it only takes once to kill thousands of people and irradiate the globe. Pat Robertson, who sees his god’s spiteful hand behind every natural disaster, chose to leave the Japanese alone, but tout the benefits of nuclear power. Glenn Beck filled the ignorance vacuum by saying the earthquake was God’s message to the world. They both suck, but that must be obvious.

That same month Elizabeth Taylor and Geraldine Ferraro (first woman vice-presidential candidate) died, two women who changed the world. That sucked.

On March 21, Arab Spring really became Arab Spring.


Prince William and Cate married in a ceremony viewed by two billion people who were not invited to the reception. That sucked. I’d picked out an outfit and a hat, purchased my gift (a ceramic cow creamer) and bought my airline ticket. No invitation arrived.


President Obama announced that special forces had killed Osama bin Laden  and dumped the body at sea to prevent something awful from happening. Quite what, I never understood. That sucked for the Republicans who had wanted to catch and kill him themselves. They recovered quickly and blamed the President for playing politics.

May 21, Harold Camping’s prediction of the Rapture came and went without anyone being sucked up into Heaven.  All that proved was that no one was good enough to go.


Arab Spring officially becomes Arab Summer on June 21. Actor Peter Falk died.

Whew! That’s just the first six months of 2011. From the look of things, “SUCK” may be too kind a word to describe the year.

Tomorrow:  July through December.

Donna Louise here doing some community building today to celebrate the Kwanzaa principle of Nia (Purpose)—to make our collective vocation the building and maintaining of our community. I’m taking a trash bag and my poking stick to pick up trash during my morning walk. That’s my Nia.

I’ll have lunch with a dear friend from college. She and her husband live in Chocolate Chip Cookie, Oregon where she teaches English at a state university. She’s quite a good professor and a lovely human being, as is her husband. He retired to build and sail boats in a landlocked area. I think he told me there was a lake nearby.

NOTE:  They don’t really live in a city by that name, but the city’s name has something to do with chocolate chip cookies, a mnemonic device that obviously didn’t work.

We’ll eat at a restaurant owned and operated by local people (the Ujamaa principle) before they leave for the airport to return home. I only see them once a year and it’s such a treat to spend time with them.

My Christmas solicitation letter arrived from Dr. Erricksson with a “personalized” note in it. “Dear Donna Louise, you have personally benefited from my groundbreaking work with perverts like your husband Arnold, please consider showing your appreciation with a cash donation in the amount of $100.” That very idea that he would name an amount frosted the tips of my hair.

His success with Arnie (who, by the way, was never my husband)? Ha! Curing homosexuals? What a pile of crap!

I noticed all the animals in the photo appeared a little nervous to be in that quack’s company. Stanley, Dr. E’s personal assistant, had that “ridden hard and put away wet” look, but then he cast his lot with that man.

I found the address for the Brazilian Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals and sent them the photo with a note that read, “These animals live in constant fear that their virtue will be compromised by this doctor. I don’t know what the age of consent for Brazilian farm animals is, but he’s most likely violated it. Please help these animals.” I enclosed the video of him with the Iowa farm animals. I hope I sent that one and not Arnie and me having therapeutic sex. I should have played tape to make sure. Damn!