Author Archives: Missy Comley Beattie

Somebody’s contradicting the contradiction of someone else. WTF’s going on here? The more I know, the less I know or the more I think I know the more I realize I’m powerless to understand. Continue reading →

I fold the dinner napkins and place them on the dining table. This life, my life, is just as it was yesterday and the day before. Continue reading →

As I approached the grocery’s checkout lane, a magazine cover’s words greeted, “51 REASONS FOR HOPE.” Hmm, hope. The pessimism I feel, not only about the present but also the future, shaped my reaction, “I can think of at least 52 reasons for despair.” Continue reading →

In the interest of research, I watched Matt Lauer’s interview with war criminal George W. Bush online. When the former tool of Empire told Lauer, another tool of Empire, that a free press is indispensable to democracy, I recalled journalist Helen Thomas who was moved from her front-row seat at White House press conferences to the back because the Bush administration didn’t like her confrontational questions. Digging around, I found that Thomas called out the Obama administration’s press handling: “ . . . we have had some control but not this control. I mean I’m amazed, I’m amazed at you people who call for openness and transparency . . .” She continued by adding that not even Nixon tried to control the press as much as Obama did. Continue reading →

In 2003, I was living in NYC. The George W. Bush administration was manipulating intelligence, stating a case for the invasion of Iraq—a war in which 4500 U.S. troops died, including my nephew who was killed in 2005. No one knows the number of Iraqi casualties, but it’s estimated that this could be as high as one million. Continue reading →

During the days leading up to choosing HER, HIM, someone else, or nobody, I’d have serious this-can’t-be-real thoughts. They persist. Friends and family are experiencing the same. Continue reading →

During a flight, I usually read a mystery, for time zooming. My sister Laura, a crime/drama addict, provides recommendations. She says, “If someone isn’t murdered on page one, I’m not interested.” She’s kidding (maybe), but the books she praises have multiple plot developments, and just when you’re certain you know who did what, there’s a whiplashing twist. Continue reading →

I love peanut butter—peanut butter on a banana or with blueberries. I may have invented the combo of prunes and peanut butter, although I don’t have a patent, and speaking of peanut butter, inventions, and patents, I was consuming creamy peanut butter when I read that Rep. Steve King, Iowa Republican, asked what nonwhites have done for civilization during a panel discussion led by MSNBC’s Chris Hayes on Monday, the first day of the Republican National Shit Show (RNSS). Continue reading →

I’m waiting for a call that could be either good or bad news and the longer I wait, the more anxious I become, knowing that the longer I have to wait makes it more likely that the news will not be what I want to hear. I’ve avoided this particular caring for someone, this caring enough that you engage in exactly this—this worrying and waiting. I should have run when I could’ve although that would have meant choosing solitude. As a neighbor said about my reluctance to take a chance: “If you want to make an omelet you have to break some eggs.” Continue reading →

According to this article, Obama’s advice to the graduates was admonitory. Though he never mentioned Donald Trump, his message was: Do not elect Trump. His seriousness was palpable, with the addition of “as I can be” to his customary “let me be [as] clear.” Continue reading →

“Smile,” she said, “no one wants to be in the company of someone who’s sad.” She performed happiness confidently, although once during lunch at a crowded café, she looked at me, began to cry, then loudly said, “Cancer is so fucking terrible.” Her son died in 2006 and when I met her in 2009, she was grieving, like me. I was Brailing my way, wondering if anything ever would be normal for me again after my husband’s death. She and I became friends. Continue reading →

We, The Sisterhood, watched The Railway Man the other night. Tears rolled. No spoiler alert here. I’ll just tell you that the movie’s adapted from the book, same title, a true story—one of wartime torture, devotional love, and redemption. Continue reading →

Maybe it wasn’t the lure of adventure motivating my decision to sell the condo. Remember my telling you that when someone asks where I want to live, I say, “Nowhere.” I’ve been examining the simplicity (or complexity) of that response. Continue reading →

I’m embarrassed to admit I’m watching CNN. It’s just that Laura and Erma have this huge-ass TV that consumes a wall in their living room. They’ve left with the cats for a couple of weeks and despite my affinity for a good portion of aloneness, I miss their yacking, miss hearing Laura say, “Is that not pathetic?” She asks this repeatedly when she and Erma watch ballgames as I sit nearby, trying not to talk too much. Yes, I do talk too much. Continue reading →

I can commiserate with Heidi and Ted Cruz, on their knees for two hours. As they sought God’s will. Okay, I wasn’t on my knees that long, nor was I seeking God’s will. I was simply trying to clean the drawer beneath the oven. Condo closing is March 1st and even though the real estate agency’s sending a cleaning crew in, I’m embarrassed to leave the grime I found when I opened the drawer to remove baking pans. Continue reading →

This man with whom I corresponded believes Sandy Hook and the Boston Marathon were staged and that those involved, even the children, are “crisis actors”—employed by a government whose aim is seizing guns, passing gun control laws, and creating a climate of fear. I asked about hospital staff, those who treat the injured and the spokesperson that provides information about a patient’s condition. His answer, “Crisis actors.” Continue reading →

The latest Donald Trump controversy is a call to bar the influx of Muslim immigrants into the United States until “the nation’s leaders can figure out what’s going on.” Continue reading →

I have to compartmentalize to be happy, placing my small, personal world within its own zip code, one unrelated to the community in which I reside. Joy and equanimity arrive throughout the day—time spent with family and friends, phone conversations, email exchanges with several people who’ve become friends, music, reading, watching a series or movie on Netflix, and running. (This morning, my feet danced the gorgeous autumn leaves.) Continue reading →

A few months ago, I broke a vow to avoid talking politics with neighbors and anyone I meet at social events. My infraction invited this: “Don’t say that to me. If you feel that way you should leave the country.” The woman nearly stumbled, appalled by my lack of patriotism. Continue reading →

You probably read The New York Times article detailing the sexual abuse of boys by U.S. allies in Afghanistan and were sickened to learn that it is U.S. policy to disregard what is called bacha bazi (“boy play”). Even when it takes place within sight or hearing distance on military bases. Continue reading →