Pondering power ... could Harris help redefine it?

By JoAnne Young

As I started writing this, I had no power. Literally. It was Thursday afternoon and the power in our house had been off for 24 hours, part of the citywide outage that was being restored slowly. I knew it wasn’t rational, but I was hoping the people who had the power to restore our power wouldn’t forget us. When all you can do is wait, because the power is in someone else’s hands, my mind wandered into a black hole of wondering and doubt. 

 

It reminded me how important power is, in our homes where the lack of it changes our lives in so many ways, in our streets where we must rely on the cooperation and attention of others for our safety, and in our leaders who can choose to guide us rationally through a crisis, or who can contribute to the chaos. 

 

This week, I had to rely on the basics of open windows, books, candles and pencils and paper. I had to rely on others who had the power that I didn’t.

 

This has given me a lot of time to think about power, all kinds of power that make a difference in our lives. 

 

The events in the past couple of weeks have renewed my hope that a woman could, in a few months from now, be handed a big chunk of power in this world. I, and other women I know, have been waiting a lifetime for a woman to earn the keys to the Oval Office, to have major authority in decisions that affect the rules of society, defense of our country, foreign affairs, our economy and our public services. 

 

Someone who understands feminine power – power that can be defined as empathy and patience, creativity, good communication skills, an important kind of confidence. 

 

Vice President Kamala Harris is quoted in her book, The Truths We Hold: An American Journey, with this: “Democracy just cannot flourish amid fear. Liberty cannot bloom amid hate. Justice cannot take root amid rage. America must get to work. ... We must dissent from the indifference. We must dissent from the apathy. We must dissent from the fear, the hatred, and the mistrust.” 

 

She has defined leadership. “The American people deserve a leader who tells the truth. A leader who does not respond with hostility and anger when confronted with the facts. We deserve a leader who understands that our differences do not divide us. They are an essential source of our strength.”

Harris’s entrance into the presidential race makes this so much more interesting. A recent Associated Press story noted that “Kamala Harris has range. She can grill nominees for the Supreme Court or meet with foreign dignitaries, then pivot to hosting a Diwali celebration or dancing enthusiastically alongside an Historically Black College and University-styled marching band.” 

 

She has dexterity, is good at celebrating all her identities and relating to many audiences. She’s an adroit code-switcher, someone who can deliberately adjust her speech style and expression to optimize relatability and ensure getting her message across. (Another woman who is good at code switching is Michelle Obama.)

 

In Cassandra Speaks, Elizabeth Lesser writes about the lessons of power handed down through the ages by men, from Machiavelli in The Prince, (“If an injury has to be done to a man it should be so severe that his vengeance need not be feared.”), to Sun Tzu in The Art of War (“In the midst of chaos, there is also opportunity.”), to The 48 Laws of Power, compiled by Robert Greene (Law #17, Keep others in suspended terror: cultivate an air of unpredictability. Law #42, Strike the shepherd and the sheep will scatter).

 

What would it be like for humanity today if women had contributed to the theories and stories about what it meant to be a powerful person, she asks. “What if their emotional intelligence, their relational natures, their roles as nurturers, as healers, mothers and teachers had been respected, sought after and woven into the story of power?”

 

As I finish this up, Lincoln Electric System workers have restored the power to my house – my lights, my refrigerator, my electronic connection to the outside world. And they have given me lots to think about. 

 

What if women could add their voices to the stories of slaying dragons and waging wars and bombs bursting in air? What if it could be cool to be talkative, as Lesser says, brave to cry, noble to feel and relate? Laudatory to educate children and tend the garden?

 

What if a woman, for the first time, could lead our country?  

Too much rain

 

By Mary Reiman

The force of water. It could be the title of a book. This summer it is the story of Northwest Iowa. Beginning the weekend of June 22nd.

When asked where I’m from in Iowa, I usually say Okoboji because most people know where it is. Many have been there for summer camps or family vacations. They often remember their favorite band playing at the Roof Garden (there was a dance there every Tuesday night in the summer), the roller coaster (one might use the word rickety to describe it...but that didn’t stop us from riding it), saltwater taffy or a nutty bar at Arnolds Park.  

My summer job was cleaning cottages, so I did not necessarily love the vacationers. They were messy, leaving lots of sand and trash everywhere when they headed home. 

I do remember the people. Lots of people. Traffic backed up trying to get through Arnolds Park. And boats. Boats backed up waiting to go under the bridge between East and West Lake Okoboji. 

Fast forward to July 17, 2024. In all the years I passed the lake on Highway 71, I never remember a time (especially in July) when no boats were in the water. Not one.

Last week, our family from California, Florida, Minnesota, and Nebraska came together at Okoboji. 5 miles from the farm where I grew up. Now we were the vacationers. We spent a day at the amusement park, watching the kids ride the roller coaster (it’s been rebuilt and was a favorite ride for much of the group), the scrambler (that’s way too much spinning for me), and the ferris wheel (great views of the lake from high above the water).

Our family time together was not impacted by the recent flooding, other than the bridge out on the road I usually traveled to get there. However, it was an eerie feeling, seeing the aftermath of the rains which impacted the economy of the area: the lake activities (less summer crowds than usual), the crops (those ponds in the fields were not supposed to be there covering the corn and beans) and most significantly, the city of Spencer.

Okoboji. It’s a lake. There’s water. But never this much water, and it’s almost a month after the rain came. It was the topic of conversation in every store. Less vacationers = less shoppers. No lines to get a snack. Boats sitting in the fields near the lake, instead of in the lake. The docks still underwater. The boat lifts still partially submerged.  

This picture is from Terrace Park, near the Boys Town’s Camp Okoboji. Since the docks came apart and some trees/branches washed into the lake, there was much debris being cleared before being safe for the summer boat traffic to return.

Meanwhile, Spencer, Iowa, population 11,400, is 14 miles south of Okoboji. It is where we went to buy clothes, shoes, school supplies when I was growing up. The weekend of June 22nd it also rained...and rained...and rained in Spencer. Water stretching out far beyond the banks of the Little Sioux River  which runs through town. 

The people in Spencer are hard-working Iowa families. Now picking up the pieces. I would guess some are still in shock. I am, just looking at the photos. The destruction of homes and businesses, the livelihood of so many in the community who had seen rain before, seen the river has overflowed its banks in years past, but nothing like this. Nothing of this magnitude.

As important as the boats and the lake are to the economy of the Okoboji area, it is nothing compared to the impact of this rain in Spencer. 1000 homes were completely destroyed and approximately 2,500 were damaged. Replacing, repairing, perhaps relocating. Where would you begin?

It seems that every day we see the force of nature causing chaos throughout the country. The impact on the life of a community. People persevering with grit and determination. I know that is happening in Spencer. 

I am also well aware we need water for many reasons. It is a precious commodity in this country and around the world. But in 2024, on a June weekend in Northwest Iowa, there was too much rain. 

A few additional photos for those of you who have visited the Iowa Great Lakes Region:

June 22nd, Casey's, Spencer:

Clearing out homes damaged in Spencer:

June 22, 2024 Arnold Park main street (near the Nutty Bar Stand):

July 19, 2024 Arnolds Park main street that many of us recognize:

July 19, 2024 Boat lifts on Lake Okoboji...without boats:

July 19, 2024 The end of the day:

Thank you, Mr. President

 by Marilyn Moore

Dear Mr. President,

I had planned to write this letter in four years, as you were finishing your second term as President of the United States.  Such is not to be, as you’ve announced your decision today to stand down from your candidacy for re-election and to devote full time and energy to the presidency.  That decision makes me sad.  I’m angry that you had to make it.  There’s nothing fair about it.  But you have, as you always have, weighed the complex factors of this decision in this time and in this place, and made the decision that in your judgment best serves our country.  That’s what leadership looks like, and our country is fortunate to see it and experience it and live it with you.

Thank you, not for standing down, but for standing up.  You have stood up for, spoken for, advocated for, and kept at the forefront of your thinking those persons who have been pushed to the margins by the powerful voices and policies of the past – women, members of the LGBTQ+ community, persons of color, miners and autoworkers and members of unions, service members and veterans, children who are hungry and homeless, the poor.  

Thank you for standing up for rights for women, especially reproductive health rights, and for voting rights.  Both are under attack at this time; your support has been relentless.  It matters.

Thank you for leading this nation through the Covid 19 pandemic, with regard for the science that led to the development of vaccine and with regard for public health workers and health care providers who provided care every single day.  Thank you for negotiating with all the parties that were a part of the supply chain issues – it’s lovely to not find the empty shelves in grocery stores that we confronted in 2021 when you took office.  Thank you for your support of public schools, their teachers and principals, who kept schools running and found new ways to keep students learning, during a pandemic. 

Thank you for your principled stand on supporting Ukraine when it was, and still is, attacked by Russia.  Thank you for rallying the NATO nations to join in that stance, and for restoring the United States to a position of leadership among the nations of the world, especially among the nations that are democracies.  Thank you for trying to find a way to balance the right of Israel to defend itself with the very real humanitarian needs of the Palestinians, especially those living in Gaza who are suffering from deprivation of food, water, and medical care. Diplomacy is not easy; you have not given up.  In these two hot spots of the world today, and in others as well, your deep knowledge and understanding of foreign relations comes to the fore.

Thank you for surrounding yourself with a Cabinet and a team of advisors who are smart, diverse, committed to the Constitution, and effective.  You have led them well, you have listened to them, and policies have emerged that serve the public well.

Thank you for nominating Ketanji Brown Jackson to the US Supreme Court, and for nominating hundreds of other persons to serve as judges on federal courts throughout the country.  Your nominees include women and people of color to a degree not seen before; thank you for taking steps toward a judiciary that looks like the citizenry.  

Thank you for respecting science, the science that led to the development of the Covid-19 vaccine and the science that says we must take action to halt climate change.  Thank you for respecting the natural world in which we live, for setting aside lands as protected areas to assure there will always be places in nature accessible to all US residents.

Thank you for your leadership in the passage of major legislative bills that make lives better for ordinary Americans, funds that rebuild and restore bridges and highways, systems that result in vital supplies, like computer chips, being made in the US, child tax credits and free lunches for school kids (these need to be extended, by the way, and I’m sure you’re working on it, though a Republican House makes it challenging; for a party that claims to be pro-life and pro-family, they are remarkably unwilling to adopt federal legislation that would actually help families), a few more procedures in place to try to keep guns out of the hands of those who are most dangerous, and caps on insulin.

Thank you for your compassion for those who suffer, for filling the role of Comforter in Chief with such genuine dignity.  You have called parents of children who have been killed in school shootings, you have called spouses of service members killed while serving their country.  You have visited cities and villages that have been ravaged by natural disasters and manmade accidents, assuring by your presence that those affected are not forgotten by their national government. 

Thank you for your grace and strength and courage in the past four weeks, when for some reason the national media decided to focus on your raspy voice instead of the thirty-some lies told by your opponent in the debate.  During that time, you have also met with heads of state, you have convened the NATO nations, you have answered endless questions from the press, including a lengthy late-night press conference; in other words, you have gone about the business of being the President of United States, a job that, as your Secretary or Transportation says, you know how to do, and you do it well. 

Thank you for selecting Kamala Harris as your running mate four years ago, and for supporting her today as our next president.  She is whip-smart, she is wise, she opens the door of what is possible by her very presence.  Excellent choice, Mr. President.

Thank you for letting us see the person you are – a person who loves his family, a person of faith, a person who sees the value and dignity of all God's children, a person who loves his country more than himself.  And thank you for reminding us often, as you did in your letter today, that there is nothing that the American people cannot accomplish, when we all work together.  Words of wisdom for all of us….

Thank you, Mr. President, and may God bless you and yours,

Marilyn Moore

A gloriously imperfect road trip across time

By Mary Kay Roth

I imagined an idyllic road trip with my two grown kids, Josh and Anna.  After all, the three of us hadn’t traveled together in decades – at least not without grandchildren or significant others.

This would be special. For my 70th birthday present, Josh was taking Anna and me to my dream destination: the Red Rocks Amphitheatre in Colorado.

I even imagined the blog I would write, waxing poetic, an enchanted time of reconnecting, our arms wrapped around one another singing kum ba yah.  And they lived happily ever after.

Of course, by now I should know better.  Life never goes as planned.

The truth is we drove each other crazy. 

Apparently on long car trips Anna not only tailgates, she also tends to drive 95 mph (and faster).  Josh checks our ETA incessantly – I swear every 5 to 10 minutes – and if we’re running “behind plan” and I want to stop for a rest break, both my kids extol the benefits of driving straight through. 

Umm, no. I need to stop. NOW.

Indeed, on the road, we talked about past vacations and roared with laughter.  We shared the driving, shared our dream bucket lists. And we sang our favorite songs.  But for some inexplicable reason my kids were irritated by my tendency to blurt out lyrics when I didn’t really know the words. 

And, admittedly, I completely freaked out when Josh was navigating through a hailstorm while playing Rage Against the Machine, as I felt obligated to remind him of each and every potential danger lurking on the highway. In turn, he reminded me he had been driving for 25 years.

Hey, buster, who do you think taught you to drive?

Yep, pretty much annoyed the heck out of one another.

The relationship with adult children is a curious thing. I want to call it fragile, but that’s not quite true. Perhaps the word “complicated” is more accurate, those convoluted, knotty bonds of family.  

I mean, I have accumulated such incredible wisdom over the years, yet my children don’t want to hear any of my astute insights.

These are the children I gave birth to – nurtured – adored – raised.  We took car trips across the country playing I Spy, collecting lists of state license plates, drawing imaginary lines that divided them in the backseat.

Like it or not, we are tethered, woven together in the tapestry of our family’s collective memory. My love for them runs deep into the marrow of my bones. We all three share the same sense of humor – the same political bent – the same love of books, music, travel.  We are each filled with equal measures of passion and sarcasm.  

Yet suddenly these “children” of mine are fully grown humans dancing with the ups and downs of life in their own unique ways – intent on fiercely demonstrating they are independent and capable adults.

I feel like I launched them with grace. I’m having a little trouble letting go with grace. 

Exasperations aside, eventually we arrived at a wonderfully funky Airbnb in Colorado, dined on grocery store deli food and watched a marathon of Mission Impossible movies well into the night.

Next morning, we counted down to the evening concert as we counted down aggravations. Josh led us down the wrong turn on a grand mountain hike and we almost fell off a cliff. Anna decided to pretty much isolate, buried in a book, asking for a few moments of calm in her life. 

Ultimately, I was likely the greatest perpetrator of exasperation: “Do we know which Red Rocks entrance to take?  How do we know that’s the right entrance?  Are we leaving early enough?  What if they run out of parking spaces?  Do we need to plan where we’re going to sit?  And, omg, what if it rains?”

When they thought I wasn’t looking, Anna and Josh rolled their eyes, much like they did as teenagers.  “Mom, maybe you need to chant or something.  Maybe you need a drink.”

We did indeed stand under a slight drizzle while waiting in line for admittance into Red Rocks. But clouds lifted as dusk settled over that sacred space, and we danced away the night as the place came alive with music.

Every so often, I sat back to inhale the precious evening – and to gaze upon my kids. 

They are pretty fine humans. Josh is a high school principal.  Anna is a nurse practitioner. They both have better boundaries than I do. They apologize more easily. I’m astonished I brought such cool people into the world – proud of how they overflow with both integrity and laughter. 

The morning after the concert we hit the road for home. I asked to stop for coffee and Anna whispered to Josh that stopping for coffee – meant mom would inevitably have to stop again for restrooms.

“Well duh,” I whispered right back. 

Then, pedal to the medal, Josh and Anna sat in the front seat and chatted – I sat in back, quietly bathed in sweet reverie, remembering the many past trips we’d taken together. Walking the Narrows in Zion National Park.  Looking down over Paris on a rainy night at the Eiffel Tower. Surviving a crammed laundromat on a wet camping trip to Yellowstone. Getting stranded on an island in Michigan.  Walking mountain trails. Canoeing the Niobrara.  

These days Josh and Anna are very busy critters with families of their own.  The day after we return home from this trip, Josh will hop a train to see a baseball game. Two days after, Anna will take her daughters on vacation to California.

And I’m hit hard with the surreal reality that my children have so many more journeys ahead … so many places to go without me … so many destinations they will see – that I will not.

So, perhaps the real wonder of this road trip is that two adult kids have carved out time in busy calendars for this moment with their mom – the fact that we’re returning home, still speaking to one another – the miracle that we pretty much like each other, despite our quirks.

Sometime in our last few hours on the road, suddenly and spontaneously, Josh and Anna started talking about the 2025 schedule for Red Rocks. What bands would be playing?  What days? 

“Maybe again next year,” they said. 

Maybe.

And that, my friends, is a true happy ending.  

Reflections on Milestones Reached

Since we began 5 Women Mayhem in February 2020, some of us have now written 50 blogs.  Some of us have written less, some more.  But we thought this summer was a perfect time to pause and reflect on the curiosity and mayhem of writing our blog.

By Mary Kay Roth

It all started with my dad’s old gray t-shirt. That’s the very first blog we posted for 5 Women Mayhem more than four years ago. It was about how I had stashed one of my dad’s old shirts, way back in a dresser drawer. And I can still remember how the process of writing that blog actually quieted the grief of losing him.

Since then, I’ve written about planting pansies and enduring pandemics. Surviving 50-year high school reunions and surviving cancer. Losing beloved dogs and finding my parents’ lost love letters. 

Surprises have happened along the way.

Perhaps best of all, our five bloggers have become a close family, supporting one another through blogs that made us cry – blogs that didn’t quite work (oops) – blogs that felt a little too dangerous to post (and we did anyway). 

Perhaps, just as surprising, our readers have joined the mayhem, gathering around us in a way that continues to flabbergast me every single week.

Now, whenever I’m introduced to someone new, they’re very likely to say something like, “Hey, you’re one of those Women of Mayhem.”

I can’t think of anything I’d rather be.  

(And, by the way, my dad’s t-shirt is still in the back of my drawer. And the smell of it still makes me cry.)

 ***

Why I Write 

By Mary Reiman

When I realized this month was my 50th post for 5 Women Mayhem, it gave me pause. I’ve always been well aware of why I read. I have never considered myself a writer, so had not thought about why I write. Not until this group was formed.

What have I experienced since saying yes when invited to the Mayhem? The gamut of emotions:

•       Honored to have been invited to be part of the Mayhem.
•       Amazed by the power of the written word.
•       Surprised how quickly 5 weeks fly by.
•       Anxious when nothing bubbles up as a possible topic.
•       Continually learning how to frame and focus a story. 
•       Fear the blog won’t come together coherently.
•       Relief when posted.
•       Joy when readers comment with their own reflections and connections.
•       Grateful when someone finds it worthy of sharing.
•       Finding my voice = finding myself.
•       Forever thankful for the friendships created and enhanced from this endeavor.
•       And most importantly, great appreciation to you, our readers.

 ***

On Being a Blogger

By Marilyn Moore 

It’s happened several times….I meet someone, and they say something like, “Oh, I know you.  You’re one of those mayhem writers.  I read your blogs all the time.”  And I’m stunned.  How did they find us?  Why do they read us?  A friend’s mom, visiting Lincoln from Scottsbluff, tells me she reads us every week, and her friends do, too, and they’ll be really interested to know if what I’m like in person is what I’m like on paper.  (I’m interested in that, too….) Another friend has a friend in Indiana who can’t wait to hear what I have to say about the latest political outrage (and I can’t wait to write about it.)

For most of my professional career, I wrote a message to my colleagues every Monday morning, naming it “Musings” in my LPS position and “Connections” while I was at Bryan College of Health Sciences.  I tried to share relevant information, encourage and inspire and focus on mission, occasionally entertain with amusing observations of life in a classroom, comfort and console in the hardest of times, and once in a while, when I just couldn’t help it, comment on the political happenings of the day.  I thought writing the blog would be similar, except only every five weeks, instead of weekly.

But it’s not the same.  We can, and do, write on anything…if there’s an off-limits topic, I haven’t found it, yet.  It has been wondrously freeing knowing that my writing represents only myself, not an institution, and I can opine on topics and issues and political officeholders without fear of harming either the school district or the college.  I can write of matters spiritual, patriotic, academic, and personal…and I learn something about myself every single time I write.  While at LPS and Bryan College, I was writing to a specific audience, my colleagues, the audience of 5 Women Mayhem is unknown.  It always feels a bit like stepping into an unknown space when I press “publish,” not knowing who in the great world wide web will chance upon these words and read them.

I have often said that I write to figure out what I think, and this blog, in this time of mayhem, has sharpened my thinking, broadened my reading, enhanced my vocabulary, and connected me in ways I don’t yet know to people I have not yet met.  I’m grateful to my fellow bloggers in mayhem for the journey we share, and I’m most thankful to our readers who make us a part of their online lives.

***

Seeking Flow and Mastery Amidst the Mayhem

By Penny Costello

I can’t say I consider myself a blogger. I’m more of a sporadic contributor to this blog. Sometimes I feel like I am the Mayhem in 5 Women Mayhem. I was thrilled and honored to be invited to participate in this group of esteemed journalists, educators, and communicators when we embarked upon this journey four years ago. It’s a true pleasure to be able to read their posts, share in their process, and be nourished by the heart, humor, knowledge, perspective, and passion that my Sister Mavens of Mayhem, as I like to call them, each bring to the table and the screen.

For me, this process continues to be a sometimes-arduous exercise in finding the flow from my brain, through my hands, and onto the keyboard. I can carry an idea around in my head for months, and when I eventually accomplish turning that idea into a written piece, I’m generally pleased with the result. I tend to gravitate toward stories about nature, personal reflections, or stories about my dogs and grandkids. And having had this opportunity to reflect and share about my journey of recovery from traumatic brain injury and its impact on my life, my career, and content creation process has been a very important part of my healing path. So, Dear Readers, thank you for going on that journey with me, and for your kind responses and comments.

The healing journey continues. And while I get frustrated when I hit that impasse point between my brain and my hands, I need to be as supportive and accepting of myself as my Sister Mavens are. I am determined to better understand and redefine that creative process. I’m inviting myself to continue to forge a new pathway, to access that flow and the joy that comes with being in it, and to strive for mastery and consistency in my writing endeavors.

It's all about connection, isn’t it? Connection brings a sense of shared experience, synchronicity, and belonging. That’s the spice of life, as far as I’m concerned. And I’m grateful every day for this group of amazing women with whom I have the pleasure of navigating through the mayhem, and for you, Dear Readers, for your interest, support, and feedback. Thank you!

***

Seeking Balance, Wending Through Life Together

By JoAnne Young 

We started this blog about the same time as Covid began to flash around the world. Major mayhem. Since then, the five of us have connected with you all more than 200 times. One of the greatest benefits is that many of you have connected back with us, nearly 1,100 times with comments, showing us that you, too, have known love and loss and secrets of the heart. You, too, are seeking balance in a world that wants to pull us too far this way or that way and knock us off our feet.  

You’ve had the same frustrations we’ve had with our public servants, who don’t seem to remember they are in office to serve the best interests of all of us. We know that some of you have shared your own thoughts with our elected officials. Thank you. 

I read over some of my 50 or so blogs this week and remembered how therapeutic it was to write them. Each one of them provided counsel to me as I wrote them, and again as I reread them. 

One of those, “Words to the Wise Women,” written in April, included advice from journalist and author Ben Montgomery on cloistering. I think of it often. 

Find a sect, a fortress, a coven of those who are like-minded with whom to dwell in the dark times, he said. “Find your people and take care of them. Stick with them. Genuinely love them. Learn from them. Write them letters. Swap stories on barstools. ... Nurture and sharpen one another. Do not be exclusive. Others will come in search of what you have found. Invite them in. Cheer them on.”  

Thank you for cloistering with us. We feel you. You are our community in this mayhem and we need each other. 

***

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Uninhabitable or just uncomfortable?

By JoAnne Young

 

There, I’m declaring it. Our political parties are becoming unsuitable to live in or with. 

 

This Independence Day, I’m celebrating my own independence from political parties, shooting off a roman candle to show how grateful I am that I’m allowed to register as a nonpartisan, how proud I am to be an independent voter, all because of how uninhabitable both major parties seem to me these days. 

 

We are smack in the course of human events right now, aren’t we? When I say smack, I can feel the rap on the head, the kick in the shin of politics today, just days after that debacle of a debate between the representatives of those two political parties we love/hate. Between two white men who are in their upper 70s or 80s and beholden to party politics. 

 

I am a moderate and can frequently see a little right in both sides of an issue, as long as truth accompanies it. I tire of the all-or-nothing stands on important issues. I want to live in that political gap where there is no animosity. Where there is reason and feelings for the difficulties of life. 

 

Our lack of independence from a party system is a reminder that we can’t scour the country and find the best person to sit in the Oval Office and make good decisions. Woman or man. Black- or white- or brown-skinned. Preferably in the age range of 40-70. People who will protect the rights of all people and balance the needs of this country and the world. 

 

A pipe dream of an independent voter, I know. 

 

But our numbers of nonpartisan voters are increasing, a rising tide of independents as some experts identify the trend. A higher percentage of people identify as nonpartisan than either Democrats or Republicans. According to Gallup polls, that percentage is inching toward half of voters. A panel of political analysts and strategists at the USC Dornsife Center for the Political Future said young voters, particularly millennials and Gen Z, prioritize issues over party loyalty. 

 

The growing independent voter base reflects a broader sentiment of political disillusionment and a desire for new voices and choices in American politics, they said. While many Independents have leanings, many, like me, are disillusioned with policies and initiatives on both sides of the aisle. I don’t like the fighting, the name calling, the arguing in an important debate over golf handicaps. I don’t like the influence of egos. 

 

Unfortunately, in Nebraska, we have a bit of a one-party rule, and it’s a Republican rule that dominates state government. 

 

Here, nonpartisan voters have limited power. We can’t vote freely in our primary elections. We can vote in all nonpartisan races, such as the Nebraska Legislature and Board of Regents. Then we must choose a Republican ballot that only allows voting for U.S. Senate and House of Representative candidates, or a Democratic, Libertarian or Legal Marijuana NOW ballot that allows for voting in all federal, state and county races. 

 

In the 2023 legislative session, Sen. Eliot Bostar introduced a bill (LB776) that would mimic how candidates for the Legislature are chosen. It would have allowed all voters to participate in a single nonpartisan primary election for every Nebraska election. The two candidates receiving the most votes, regardless of partisan affiliation, would advance to the general election, where the candidate who then receives the most votes would win. 

It would make Nebraska elections more competitive, Bostar said. The bill never made it out of a Republican-dominated committee and died at the end of this year’s session.

Josh Moenning, in a commentary for the Nebraska Examiner, said Nebraska’s closed primary system is equivalent to taxation without participation, taxing nonpartisan voters but not allowing them to participate fully in primary elections. Having to print multiple versions of ballots is wasteful of tax dollars. And it limits the number of qualified candidates running for office. 

 

In Lancaster County, as of May, more than 48,000 voters are registered as nonpartisan. Statewide the number is more than 271,000, out of 1.2 million registered voters. Nonpartisan registrations in Lancaster County are up by about 5,000 in the past five years and by about 11,000 statewide. 

 

I have a lot of respect for politicians with the courage to declare their independence, who avoid our country’s and our state’s rigid partisan divisions: U.S. Sen. Bernie Sanders, Nebraska senators Ernie Chambers and Megan Hunt. 

 

I thank them for their independence and encourage all of us to consider our own. 

Follow us on Facebook at 5 Women Mayhem. 

Still looking for the 'best book ever'...

By Mary Reiman

My first venture into writing a 5 Women Mayhem blog was on February 23, 2020.  I named it: ‘How and Why’ I Read.

The introduction from that first blog: “As I write my blogs, I’ll probably always include a sentence or two from the book I'm reading at the moment. They have framed my world, my story, and I hope in some way they will speak to you... I believe we’ve all found phrases that guide and sustain us.”

Today I am writing my 50th mayhem blog. Still contemplating. Still reflecting. Still putting aside the house projects and avoiding deep cleaning, because it's so much more important to read! Yes, still reading, knowing the current book might be the 'best book ever.'

‘Will you be my friend?’ That’s what I would say to author William Kent Krueger if I met him at a local bookstore. Authors are fascinating, aren't they. How do they construct their stories? How do they weave their ideas together? When they are writing, do they realize they will be capturing our attention and our hearts as we become absorbed in the lives of their characters? 

Most of Krueger’s crime/mystery novels are set in the beautiful north woods of Minnesota. He is the author of well-known titles: Ordinary Grace and This Tender Land. However, I admit that I am fixated on Cork O’Connor, the main character of his mystery series. You have many titles to choose from as Cork weaves his way from sheriff to private investigator, the protector of family and friends both on and off the Ojibwe reservations. Some would say you should read the books in order. I flip back and forth, reading whichever one I can locate in the library at any given moment. Trickster’s Point, Tamarack County, Lightning Strikes and Fox Creek, to name a few. 

Becoming Madam Secretary written by Stephanie Dray

“Miss Perkins, sometimes there's a man—or a woman— who is made for a moment. I happen to think you were made for this one.”

Frances Perkins’ story wasn’t in our American History textbooks when I was a child. It should have been. I hope it is today. Everyone should know of Frances Perkins. The first female Secretary of Labor. Long before she was chosen by Franklin D. Roosevelt for that position, she was an advocate for human rights. Besides being the first woman to be appointed to a cabinet post, she also served one of the longest terms of any Roosevelt appointee (1933–45). He trusted her. He gave her major responsibilities in spite of those who felt a woman’s place was not in our national government. Her most important contribution came in 1934 as chairwoman of the President's Committee on Economic Security, implementing the Social Security Act of 1935 and the Fair Labor Standards Act of 1938, establishing minimum wage and prohibiting child labor in many workplaces. Definitely worthy of a chapter in our history books.

The Cemetery of Untold Stories by Julia Alvarez

“Stories don’t die, they just wait in silence to be told.”

Julia Alvarez, author of many novels, including In the Time of the Butterflies and How the Garcia Girls Lost Their Accent, has again woven a mesmerizing tale focusing on a writer named Alma Cruz. A writer and a storyteller, with many stories she’s started and not yet finished. So, when she inherits a small plot of land in the Dominican Republic, she decides to turn it into a place to bury her untold stories. Literally. She creates a graveyard for the manuscript drafts and the characters whose lives she tried and failed to bring to life and who still haunt her. She wants her characters to rest in peace. But they have other ideas. 

As one reviewer says: “The Cemetery of Untold Stories asks: Whose stories get to be told, and whose buried?... Julia Alvarez reminds us that the stories of our lives are never truly finished, even at the end.”

The Paris Architect by Charles Belfoure

“In the darkest moments, hope shines the brightest.”

Lucien Bernard is an architect in Paris in 1942 who is keeping his head down, looking for more work, recognizing the brutality inflicted on the Jews in France but choosing not to act on their behalf. That all changes when he is asked to use his knowledge and skills to create hiding places. 

This book was written in 2014 and it’s a page-turner. I can’t believe none of you told me about it sooner.

The Women by Kristen Hannah

“The women had a story to tell, even if the world wasn’t quite yet ready to hear it, and their story began with three simple words. We were there.”

JoAnne Young wrote about this book last week. What we should remember ... how "The Women" reminds us. Please read her post if you have not done so already. Indeed, this is a story that needed to be told.

A Calamity of Souls by David Baldacci

“The world does not all look like we do, Robert. And if you want to live in that world you need to understand what all of it looks like. Not just our piece of the pie.”

Searching for a fair trial in 1968 in southern Virginia. A murder case sets two lawyers against a deeply unfair system as they work to defend their wrongfully accused Black defendants in this courtroom drama. Another Baldacci page-turner. 

Yes, the characters in ‘A Calamity of Souls’ were hoping for change. 100 years after the Civil War, still hoping for change. 

Speaking of the Civil War...

The Demon of Unrest by Erik Larson

From Erik Larson’s note to readers: “I was well into my research on the saga of Fort Sumter and the advent of the American Civil War when the events of January 6, 2021, took place. As I watched the Capitol assault unfold on camera, I had the eerie feeling that present and past had merged. It is unsettling that in 1861 two of the greatest moments of national dread centered on the certification of the Electoral College vote and the presidential inauguration.”

This book is narrative non-fiction. Every word, every conversation corroborated from historical documents, ledgers, plantation records. The amount of research is immense and as always, Larson brings the historical figures to life. Dissatisfaction, dissension, the call for secession. Beginning with the election of 1860 and explaining the almost daily activities, conversations, communications, strategies developed among representatives of the north and the south leading up to the events at Fort Sumter in April, 1861. 

And as I finish The Demon of Unrest, I need to take a reading break to reflect on the lessons we did, or didn't, learn from the Civil War.  

But I'll be back. I’m not sure where to go next on my reading pathway, so you can help me. If you have a great title you know I MUST read, let me know. Always looking for the next ‘best book ever’!