Gabby Giffords as an Inspirational Role Model

The courage and dignity shown by Gabrielle Giffords over the past year as she struggled to cope with the results of her horrific shooting were repeated this week as she made the announcement that she will step down today from her position as the United States Representative from her district in Arizona. It was inspiring to watch her smiling face and listen to her halting but strong voice declare her thanks for the support of her constituents and her pledge to return to the people of Arizona.

Photo courtesy of Gabrielle Giffords Congressional Office/Handout/Reuters

When Gabby Giffords was first shot, we blogged here about how the country would react to this crime by a mentally ill gunman. We had some suggestions for getting support in such times of crisis and for managing the stress that comes from an uncontrollable event like her shooting. You can look back over those posts and try on some of the tips we outlined there.

In addition to killing six citizens at the town hall, wounding another 12, and forever changing Gabby's life, the shooting also generated partisan finger pointing, ironic since Giffords had been rated as one of the most bipartisan, centrist members of Congress.

Gabby has been an exemplar of self-respect in her determination to progress in her healing. It is humbling to see her commitment and perseverance as she continues on her road to recovery and rehabilitation.

As you talk with you family about the role model she embodies, you can focus on some of her beliefs, attitudes and actions. Gabby has been:

Determined to move forward
Hard working in her rehabilitation
Optimistic in her outlook
Realistic in her goal setting
Steadfast in her beliefs about reconciliation
Appreciative of the support she's received
Grateful for her friends and family
Loving to her husband
Loyal to her constituents
True to herself
Committed to living a full life

These are all qualities we hope to emulate ourselves and instill in our children. We wish Gabby the very best of luck on her difficult but inspiring journey and support her words today, I will return, and we will work together for Arizona and this great country.

Part 4 - Thelma’s Legacy

"What do you do, Mrs. Ryan?" Mrs. Huntley asked.

These people looked as if they spent most of their time inspecting the leather bindings on their books. What could she say, that if she had a big winner in the ninth she was going to buy a microwave?

"I manage my investments." Joanna looked over at her mother as she said this and smiled.

Dinner proceeded with bursts of conversation, then silence. Thelma lost track of exactly how many glasses of wine she had drunk, but still felt that she could focus adequately.

She was staring into a large black and white photograph of a bald man with a mustache. He smiled benignly.

"Who is that man, and the man in the large poster near the door?" Thelma asked Clive.

"Lenin is by the door, and that's Freud, across from you," Clive said, as if any dinner guest of his should not have asked the question.

Thelma stared at Freud. "Are you a communist, Clive?" Thelma asked stiffly.

Joanna started and then said, "Mother, really, people can like Lenin without being communists."

"Mother Ryan, that is an interesting question." Thelma knew right then that there would be nothing interesting about it.

"One's political persuasions are so rarely truly probed." I bet we're going to probe this one, Thelma thought.

"Political inclinations do relate to one's sexuality, one's economic status--," he went on.

Mrs. Huntley, who seemed, at least to Thelma's wine soaked eyes, a tad juiced herself, suddenly said, loudly, "People rarely entertain like this anymore. Do you entertain, Mrs. Ryan?"

A silence fell.

"No Mother Huntley, I don't much these days, not since my husband died." There was a pause. "I'm afraid that people might pour wine down my organ."

Mr. Huntley giggled, and Joanna, who had learned to expect anything out of her mother's lips, said softly, "Mother has a small organ that my grandfather gave to us. He was a missionary in Ethiopia."

"How lovely for you. But why would anyone pour wine down it?"

"Wine leads to that sort of thing, I think," Thelma muttered, conscious that she was now not sure where the wine was leading her. She had reached a state where she was a little shaky, where every word called for concentration and energy, so that lips would form them without slurring.

After dinner, drinks were served, and Clive bustled about, talking all the while of ideology, politics, poets, poetics, hermeneutics, a word that made Thelma want to grind her teeth. In fact, maybe she had made some funny noises with her teeth. Thelma was at the stage in her drinking in which she thought of doing things and then wondered if she had actually done them.

"Estate planning is crucial, really, and something mother and I have worked on together, as a team," Mr. Huntley went on. "We are quite a team," and he patted the fat bump on top of her stomach.

"I'm leaving my entire estate to Joanna," Thelma said proudly, and then realized that her estate would probably be the organ and the Oster blender she had had for twenty-five years.

Clive laughed and said, "Oh don't do that, Mother Ryan, we will just have to take them to the dump."

No one laughed but Clive, who experienced his wit as immediate and incisive. In the silence, though, he felt shock, not applause. Joanna went around to Thelma's chair. "It was just a joke, Mother," she turned slightly toward him, "He didn't mean anything by it."

Thelma laughed self-consciously, but then felt the kind of rage rising that she knew was very dangerous. She looked back at Joanna, in her black stockings and sensible beige skirt. So sweet, so serious, a young woman of purpose, of intellect, and very kind. In her drunken state Thelma was inordinately proud of the wonderful beauty of this fine girl, this person of substance.

How in the world had she sprung from the besotted loins of Frank and Thelma Ryan? Another wave of rage swept over her, and she knew she was descending into the madness that exists only over the edge, down into the bitter dark gall that ran inside, burning her, heavy, like molten lead. I can't lose her, not to them, she thought. She knew she was going to do it, she felt herself thinking of doing it, and then she did it.

She picked up the crystal wine glass and hurled it against the wall, where the brownish liquid splattered like dark blood.

Thelma heard someone yelling, it must have been herself; "You are not good enough to fuck my daughter in the ass."

Join us tomorrow to find out how Anne's story ends.

Now that the election process is complete, president elect Obama and Sandwiched Boomers are still faced with the enormity of the tasks that lie ahead - a deep financial crisis, two wars, terrorism and an environment in peril. Parents continue to ponder, how will I pay the mortgage and grocery bills, manage my kids’ college tuition and health insurance?

In his speech Tuesday night, Obama acknowledged that 'the climb will be steep' - but as a people together we will get there. He made encouraging statements: I'll listen to you, especially when we disagree. Victory is only the chance we have to make a change. Now the real work begins – with a new spirit of service, patriotism and sacrifice.

This is the time to manage our expectations. And wait, at this history-making moment, to find answers to many questions: Will there be a seismic shift in American politics? Is this when we will put the dark stain of racism behind us? Will Obama deliver on his promises and reach across party lines? Can this be the election that inspires a generation of public service?

Last night, 'Yes we can' became 'Yes we did' as Barack Obama was elected the 44th President of the United States. This is the triumph of the American dream, Sandwiched Boomers. It's is what other countries have admired about our country, as a place where all things are possible. And now it's safe to say to our children and grandchildren, that - with hard work - you really can be anything you want.

John McCain made a gracious concession speech, urging the Republican party to get behind this transformational event and find ways to come together. And Barack Obama made a commitment to heal the divide: "For those whose vote I didn't win tonight, I hear your voices, I need your help, I'll be your president too."

This was the election over hope and fear. Now the question is how realistic are the expectations and will they be met? Obama faces daunting challenges and seems to recognize the gravity and magnitude of the work that lies ahead. He said last night that it won't happen in the first year, perhaps nor in the first term.

What do you think? Will the country maintain it's enthusiasm and go from cynical, fearful and doubtful toward the promise of a better day?