#Dallas with Catholic mom you are so important to me

[youllneverseeonascreen]

Thinking of Dallas Winston with his St. Christopher pendant. Dallas who once upon a time had a mom, a dad, maybe a grandparent. Who had a memory of when he first got the medal. How old was he? Was it before or after his first night in jail- either way a kid is still a little kid. Dallas who might’ve been able to remember parts of the story and why the guy mattered at all. Why he still remembered it years later. Dallas who rarely took it off unless cops made him for the night. Dallas who would just say the thing just made him look tough if anyone asked him. Dallas who would absentmindedly hold and yank it at night while staring at bucks ceiling with music and trains and footsteps being too loud.

Thinking of that Ethel Cain line “God loves you but not enough to save you”

[crossovereddie]

you’ve done this before but i love hearing people talk about things they love so… what characteristics made you fall for mickey and eddie? what characteristics do you share with them?

I’m about to pour my heart out but it’s gonna be a jumbled mess oops.

Before I get into personal things about each character a general fact you need to know about me is I always have a soft spot for misunderstood characters who clearly just need/want to be loved. Blame that on me getting emotionally attached to Dallas Winston the first time I had to read The Outsiders for school.

Let’s start with Eddie first.

First off, holy hell who the fuck let you be that hot mister this is a fire station please contain yourself. Then Bobby introduces him as Eddie DIAZ from TEXAS and okay that’s all I gotta know I automatically stan so hard because I too am a Mexican who grew up in Texas. The he says he’s got a silver star and if you know anything about war and the military then you automatically know he’s seen some shit and okay trauma we love to see it in our fictional characters. Then Buck starts giving him shit and he’s so patient and you can tell he’s thinking ‘lol we’re about to be some of the most important people in each other’s lives just you wait’. He’s so good at his job. He’s so smart. He’s sweet. He’s a dad???? A SINGLE dad????? To the sweetest kid???? I’m a goner (so is buck). We get to see how much he’s struggling then the way he hugs Bobby just confirms to me that Eddie doesn’t really have a good relationship with his family. He’s never had people selflessly HELP him who weren’t obligated to. Then Shannon comes back and we see how forgiving Eddie is. Too forgiving if you ask me 🤭 He lets her back in bc it’s what Christopher asks for. Everything he does is for Chris. Then tsunami happens and Buck is there and Christopher isn’t. Y’all know how easy it would’ve been for Eddie to get angry at Buck? How he could’ve definitely blamed him? It happens all the time irl. But no. I don’t think he ever once blamed Buck. Not even before he sees Chris. Then he takes Chris to buck. He TRUSTS buck to take care of him. This man is so kind y’all idk what to tell ya. Eddie Begins really made sure there’s no going back for me now. We see him struggling to be a parent at first (me too my guy. completely different reasons but I struggled with being a parent too.) But he always loved his son. Then my suspicions are confirmed: his parents are shitty. We get to also see that Eddie would give his life to save others, in the flashbacks and with the little boy in the well. But he’s a fighter and he fights each time to come back home to his son. All he wants is to be a good father to his son. He wants Christopher’s happiness over everything. A parent who loves their child unconditionally and would do anything for them? I HAD NO CHOICE BUT TO ATTACH MY SOUL TO YOURS. In conclusion he’s the best dad, unbelievably kind, loves people so well, and we grew up the same. (Then there’s the whole I think he’s actually gay and deeply in the closet bc of culture and catholic guilt so relatable<3)

Eddie’s was longer than expected so I’ll put mickeys under the cut. It’s not as long surprisingly

Now Mickey

Oh my sweet Mickey. I thought he was so funny at first. This shrimp thinking he’s tough (and actually is)??? Sign me up. Then wtf he’s gay????? HERES MY HEART SIR. Then ofc we get into the whole he’s closeted because of his psychotic homophobic dad. Scared enough to contemplate murder then going to juvie just to stay alive. Then s3 happens and you can really see how much he loves Ian and just how homophobic terry actually is. Mickey is just a fucking kid. He’s a teenage boy still. He’s a tough Milkovich yeah but he’s fucking SWEET. He just wants to be with Ian. He just wants to be HIMSELF. (This I can very much relate to. My mom’s not terry bad but she still hates that I’m not her perfect little straight catholic daughter and lets me and everyone else know it constantly). Anyways then we actually see just how good Mickey is and by this point I’m in too deep and just keep falling more and more in love with who he is. Hes a family man. When he considers you family he has your back no matter what. He’s so loyal. He loves people even when they don’t show the same love to him. He’s compassionate even when people don’t deserve it. He’s so fucking KIND. THIS MAN IS CINDERELLA JFC. But probably the main reason I love him so much is his unconditional love for Ian. He doesn’t ‘love Ian even though he’s bipolar’. He just loves Ian and that includes stable Ian, manic Ian, depressed ian, paranoid ian, medicated ian, unmedicated Ian. He just fucking loves IAN, all of him no matter what. He doesn’t stay and take care of him out of obligation. He stays and he learns and he educates himself and he tries and he cares because he loves him. When Mickey Milkovich loves you there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you. I hate to give shameless this compliment (bc really it’s all Noel and fans and the few writers who cared) but Mickey Milkovich is the best fictional character that’s ever existed I won’t be taking criticism at this time.

[blueinkedfrost]

Heathers - Bud Dean

Bud Dean has about three canonical personality traits - explosives obsession, exercise/fitness obsession, not a very good parent. Four personality traits if you count his and J.D.'s sarcastic roleplaying exchanges as a trait. Everything else is absolutely conjecture.

Bud's other important trait is that, for a character who has 2.5 brief scenes in the movie, he's a real spotlight stealer. He's extremely interesting! This is why he tempts people to conjecture about him.

In terms of defending Bud, he's not the worst character in the movie! He only killed one person and a memorial oak tree, and in both cases was legally acquitted of responsibility. He's not a very good parent, but none of the other adult characters are particularly good either.

And, very importantly, what is 'Bud' a nickname for? I think his full name should be Burton, as it makes a nice little reference to Ira Levin's A Kiss Before Dying, which you should definitely read without spoilers.

Here are my Bud conjectures, in the order that we get information in the movie.

The first thing we learn about J.D.'s home environment is that he moves around a lot but there's a Snappy Snack Shack in every town.

J.D. I've been moved around all my life. Dallas, Baton Rouge, Vegas ... Sherwood, Ohio. There's always been a Snappy Snack Shack ... Keeps me sane.

This early in the movie, 'Keeps me sane' just sounds like hyperbolic banter. Later we realise that J.D. has some very serious issues, and Snappy Snack Shacks as his one source of stability in an unstable life were not an adequate means of support. When Veronica comments on J.D.'s motorbike, he explains a bit more of his background:

J.D. Yeah, just a humble perk from my dad's construction company. You've seen the commercial, right? "Bringing every state to a higher state".

Then it's Veronica who says the company name and Bud's name, 'Big Bud Dean Construction'. So the background here is:

Bud's business causes him and his son to move around a lot - we'll figure out that the constant moving and having no friends has a negative effect on his son's mental state. Maybe Bud would've been a better parent if he'd sent J.D. to boarding school. It seems like Bud prioritises his work over his kid, although in his defence he needs to earn a living. 

The company's clearly doing well enough to have popular T.V. ads. Bud's very competent at what he does. 

Naming your company after yourself makes you a self-made man with a high opinion of your creator. (It's not even just 'Bud Dean Construction', it's a boastful 'Big Bud'.) In contrast, Veronica's family, established in Sherwood, might have inherited money, as her parents seem to lead pretty leisurely lives.

We meet Bud in person when he walks in on J.D. and Veronica watching television (Veronica quickly removes her hand from around J.D.'s shoulders). Comparing Bud's physical appearance to Veronica's father, he has a lot more grey in his hair; it's possible Bud's meant to be older, although different people go grey at different rates and he is very physically fit.

Bud and his son communicate by putting words in each other's mouth. This roleswapping exchange is offputting, and an indication of the chaos that surrounds J.D.

J.D. Hey, son, I didn't hear you come in. BUD. Hey, Dad, how was work today? It was miserable. Some damn tribe of withered old bitches doesn't want us to terminate that fleabag hotel.

This exchange makes me conjecture that Bud's on the more misogynistic end of the Heathers spectrum, although this movie sets the bar pretty low (J.D. has the dubious distinction of 'only male character to show a vague awareness that date rape is wrong'). Veronica says 'bitch' too and she'd probably identify as a feminist, but Bud uses particularly vivid, imaginative language to denounce these women - tribe of withered old bitches, then later the judge told them to slurp shit and die. (Which the judge probably did not literally do.) This combined with the backstory on Bud's wife and Bud's dismissive attitude toward Veronica makes me think Bud doesn't think much of women.

Bud and J.D. then talk over an anecdote in "fucking Kansas", where Bud was arraigned but acquitted for illegally blowing up the Memorial Oak Tree with thirty fireworks attached to the trunk. Bud is willing to break the law and clever enough to get away with it, and doesn't care much for trees, environmentalism, or history. J.D. repeats the story as if Bud's told it many times before.

Then there's a nonverbal exchange that's quite interesting. Veronica offers to shake Bud's hand and he refuses, walking on a treadmill and giving her a perfunctory wave instead. He's clearly very interested in exercising and not very polite to her. Veronica leaves in a hurry soon after.

J.D. Veronica, this is my dad. Dad - Veronica.

VERONICA. Hi. (Bud refuses her handshake.)

J.D. Son, why don't you ask your little friend to stay for dinner?

VERONICA. I can't, uh, my mom's making my favourite meal tonight. Spaghetti, lots of oregano.

After the role reversal conversation and the handshake refusal, Veronica seems to find Bud offputting and leaves quickly. Since Veronica later asks J.D. 'Do you like your father', she doesn't find Bud likeable. However, in Veronica's second encounter with Bud, she's sarcastic about him within his earshot ('the beaver's home'), so she probably doesn't find him particularly scary or threatening.

J.D.'s last line before Veronica leaves is this tantalising beginning of a reveal, that Veronica is completely disinterested in asking for more information about:

J.D. How nice. Last time I saw my mom, she was waving from a library window in Texas. Right, Dad? BUD. Right ... son.

There's an earlier script version that gives more information about Bud's attitude here:

J.D. The last time I saw my mom, she was waving out the window of a library in Texas. Right, Dad?

BIG BUD DEAN stops rowing to grin a You-Think-You're-Tougher-Than-Me-But-You're-Not smile to J.D.

BUD. Right, son.

Bud literally killed J.D.'s mother while he watched, but instead of thinking that some kind of emotional support might be appropriate, he sees mentions of her death as a tough-out contest. Bud probably wins that contest, and along with it a 'bad parenting' prize. The way J.D. brings up his mother's death makes it feel like an unhealed wound - J.D.'s poking at the scab, trying to get some sort of reaction out of his father that he doesn't get at all.

In Bud's second appearance, J.D. and Veronica are again in the living room. Veronica threw the photo of J.D.'s mother at him in frustration, not knowing what it was. Bud walks in with a videotape, gloating over how We beat the bitches ... the judge told them to slurp shit and die. He shows the video of his deconstruction job.

BUD. I put a Norwegian in the boiler room. Masterful! And then, when that blew, it set off a pack of thermals I stuck upstairs. Some days it's great to be alive.

Bud has a high opinion of his own talents (warranted - he clearly did a good job of demolishing the hotel) and loves destruction. The video seems to be much more for enjoyment than analysing his work; he watches it and laughs. Deconstruction is a job that clearly someone has to do, and lots of people like explosions in moderation - but, for Bud, he loves them. While watching the video, J.D. clearly also starts to feel excitement and consider how he could blow up Westerburg High School. Like father, like son.

When Bud leaves, Veronica asks J.D. a question.

VERONICA. Do you like your father?

At that point in the story, Veronica's disturbed about the three murders J.D. planned and she's also noticed Bud's love for destruction - it's plausible that she asked that question hoping for a definite 'no, I'm not as destructive as my father'. She doesn't get that definite no.

J.D. I've never given the matter much thought. I liked my mother. They said her death was an accident, but she knew what she was doing. She walked into the building two minutes before my dad blew the place up. She waved at me, and then ... boom.

(The camera zooms in on the picture of a light-haired woman casually dressed on a beach, in sunglasses. The sunglasses probably symbolise 'we didn't need to find a stock photo that looked like Christian Slater'.)

Since Bud literally pulled the trigger on Mrs. Dean, it's tempting to take the way she died as symbolic of It's-Just-Possible-That-I-Might-Have-Had-Some-Issues-With-My-Husband. The death was ruled an accident; she would have walked into the building of her own will; Bud probably didn't know she was there. If Bud was a decent or semi-decent spouse, then forcing him to literally kill her was a shitty thing to do. (Similarly, Martha's method of committing suicide would've been horrifying to the car driver, but in Martha's case, she didn't know that it would be one specific driver.)

While it's not spelt out, it's easy to picture Bud as an awful or abusive spouse. Ruling Mrs. Dean's death an accident was probably quite lenient from the coroner, considering that Bud was responsible for securing the demolition site and could have been considered negligent. In this real life example where a person was killed in a demolition (it's a very sad story), the contractor's responsibility was certainly considered. In some religions, there's a stigma against suicide, which means that ruling a death accidental is considered kinder to the family. Maybe the Deans are (nominally, anyway, as they don't seem remotely devout) Catholic.

(By calling her Mrs. Dean, I'm even making an assumption that they were married, which also isn't explicitly stated - but it's a pretty safe assumption.)

J.D.'s line on whether he likes his father is I've never given the matter much thought. I liked my mother. His mother was the better parent of the two, with J.D. feeling affection for her but indifference to his father. I think J.D.'s line reminiscing about his mother is a genuine emotional moment from him. Not long after this, J.D. shoots the radio playing 'Teenage Suicide' for no obvious reason. He's an impulsive character, but also a pretty calculating one, so it's hard to understand what motivated him there. Unresolved anger from reminiscing about his mother's death seems a convincing explanation.

Bud's final brief scene in the film actually shows him in a relatively positive light. While J.D. is building the bomb to blow up the school, Bud knocks on his son's door. He's not seen, only heard.

BUD. Hey, pop, I need some help with my homework!

J.D. Not right now, tiger, I'm a little busy.

Bud tries to reach out and engage his son; his son asks him to back off; and Bud respects J.D.'s boundaries and does so. (Of course, in this particular case, obviously things did not end well.)

And then J.D. goes off and tries to blow up the school with a trigger in the basement and packs of thermals in the gym. Veronica says the line Like father, like son. She literally means that the bombing style is the same. But it's really tempting to extend her line to mean more. J.D. displays a lack of empathy and concern for human life. Could those traits be inherited from his father? Bud doesn't show much empathy and concern for his son, and doesn't seem to have any friends or any interest in remarrying. Bud's exercise habits are solitary exercise, on his personal machines (not even at the gym with other people around!). Bud shows some grandiosity in his opinions about himself, such as calling his company 'Big Bud Dean Construction' and his interpretation on exactly what the judge told the protesters. It's tempting to read Bud as the 'sociopath who succeeds in business' stereotype - someone who channels his love for explosives into mostly legal channels, is willing to break the rules (see also the Memorial Oak Tree), and doesn't care for other people's feelings.

In a movie that uses a lot of colour symbolism, Bud's colour scheme greatly varies - a red and grey tracksuit in his first scene, (bright) blue and black in his second, unseen in his third. He prefers casual clothes or exercise clothes. Red is used to symbolise power (Chandler's scrunchie); grey seems pretty neutral; blue is Veronica's colour, symbolising intelligence; black is J.D.'s colour, symbolising destruction. Power, intelligence, and destruction pretty much fit Bud's character, although it's weird to see him in blue as he and Veronica hardly have anything in common. The photo of Mrs. Dean shows her in light colours, perhaps showing that she was more vulnerable and weak.

In terms of what I like about Bud, I really like his competence and his sarcasm. He's obviously good at what he does (blows up hotels, runs a successful company, keeps physically fit). He's clever enough to blow up a memorial oak tree without getting caught. His exchanges with his son show that he's rather verbally apt. Bud seems to be doing exactly what he wants to do in life with no inner angst whatsoever, which is a lot more than most Heathers characters can say.

Overall, how terrible a parent was Bud? It's pretty open. In the suicide note for Heather Chandler, J.D. contributes Suicide is the logical answer to the myriad of problems life has given me, which you can imply that he was also using to talk about himself. 'Myriad of problems' sounds like there might be more to J.D.'s issues than 'My mom died and I move around a lot', but that's a major conjecture. Bud clearly gives his son enough pocket money to support a motorbike, a smoking habit, and a convenience store habit, as well as way too much access to weaponry. Bud's not very emotionally supportive, and rather neglectful; his son stays the night away from home on at least two occasions (before killing Heather and before killing Kurt and Ram) without Bud apparently caring much.

Given J.D.'s issues, it's tempting to blame his father to a greater or lesser extent. However, J.D. is seventeen, not seven, and responsible for his own actions. J.D.'s penchant for killing other people's bullies seems like it might tie in to past bullying he experienced himself, where if he went after his own tormentors it would be too much like admitting weakness. It's believable enough to assume his father was one of the people who hurt him, whether by action or neglect. J.D. seems to mind when Heather Chandler targets Martha and when Kurt and Ram target the nerd at the funeral, in a twisted way of showing empathy; J.D. also has some feelings for his mother and for Veronica, despite how dark he becomes. Bud isn't shown to care for anyone at all.

Through Bud's exercise obsession, he's physically tougher than his son, and he seems more emotionally callous as well. No wonder he survives the movie where his son doesn't.

Go Team Bud?

[yespoetry]

Monica Rowley: #NotTrump Series

Some Advantages of a Nervous Breakdown When The Nation State is Turning Corporate Feudal in Front of Your Eyes and the Debate is Now Kleptocracy or Kakistocracy or Both

                                                “I have lived in important places, times

                                                When great events were decided…

                                                     Till Homer’s ghost came whispering to my mind.

                                                He said: I made the Iliad from such

                                                A local row. Gods make their own importance.”

                                                                                     Patrick Kavanagh

See you in the holes of America. Poetry must be written.

But also be sure to read the writing on the red hats

MOTHERFUCKERS, this is

the death of THE NATION STATE, which let’s face it:

good for the imperialists and colonizers and the rich, but the rest of the world

NOT SO FUCKING MUCH.

You can write with abandon.  You can fuck meter.  You can sit your fat ass prepositions all over the white space of this page because covering the white is turning out to be preferable and maybe even necessary. 

Eat hallucinogens. 

Epic poetry is now back in — you’ll need your imagination. 

The Poets must be verbose now. The current leader, the spearhead of this 9-5 serfdom, is winning brevity with his 140 character ruling decrees. 

Terseness is something to leave behind. 

(A lot of my male friends will not like this stance,  but you and I both know those men that object

still resist a female lead; and you’ll take this longwinded bitch

in a foxhole over their sparse verse any day—

well not any day— actually not most days, 

but you will on the day the shit hits the fan). 

WE ARE GOING TO BE IN CRISIS. 

I am one shitty poet,  but turns out I am also a good-ole-fashioned,  write-that-new-Amendment,  type of suffragist,

civil rights teacher-reader

poet of a patriot.

Seems politics are starting to loop back around to needing my type of poetry. 

I am with you in the holes of America.  I read too much history.  I have too many facts

to not WARN you, 

that this time—  actually— it is different. 

Things won’t really ever be the same again:

And I, for one, blame it on white women

who cared more about marriage than democracy.

 November 9, 2016: Some Thoughts For My Students and My Niece Annabelle

Today your mother, my sister, texted me.  Your mother told us, all six of her siblings,  when you woke to hear the news:

Hillary lost, Trump was King,  you cried your eyes out, and she told us when she assured you it would change in four years, you asked if you would live to be seventeen. 

*

My beloved sophomores, so bright and young and new, I am sorry I missed our classes today. 

You see, I have been waiting for a woman president all my life. 

My mother likes to tell the tale of my first feminist moment:

riding in the back of a brown-paneled station wagon,  I argued with a minister’s son,  I was all of five. 

I told him God didn’t have to be a man.  My mom recalls I then yelled up to her for support. She said, she hadn’t 

really thought of it until then. There are more stories of how 

I got to be waiting for a woman to be president all my life. 

Suffice it to say, I thought it would happen this time. So, on Tuesday, at five p.m.,  I let work know 

I would not be in on Wednesday.  Surely, I would be too hung over from shots of whiskey victory. I wasn’t.  

The sexual assailant won,  not the woman with thirty years experience. 

I was not hung over from booze,  but I was battered in grief. 

*

I am so sorry to all of my Muslim students, friends,  and their families. I thought, 

knowing the Know-Nothings and Nativists the way I do, that history 

could not repeat itself again. I, being raised Catholic and part of an Irish clan, 

assumed we were past those days when we elected the first non-Wasp man. 

I am sorry I did not know better.  I am sorry I believed in everyone so much.  I really should have guessed this.  I mean, that Catholic president, was shot in Dallas dead, cold, assassinated and such. 

*

I know most of my black friends, co-workers,  and past lovers aren’t shocked. I was so sure this moment, 

the suffragists’ moment was coming,  I did not want to listen to your worry about this Tuesday— your doubt and anger. 

I assumed there simply was no way the evening’s winner would be

endorsed by the KKK.

My naivety and privilege let me think this could never be true; it was as if I believed

my own experience was the thing that would drive voting that day and I am so sorry I did not listen to you. 

*

I want to speak to all the victims of sexual assault. 

Yet again, you are not believed and we had another lesson in how rape culture is taught. 

I wish this were not the case,  what will it take for people to believe that powerful men do rape? 

*

I think about all the workers in Nevada, the Latinx hotel employees I do not know.  You showed up in numbers and turned

that swing state blue. 

We all should have followed your warning, you know Trump all too well— You work in his establishments and cannot

unionize in his hell.

I have a sad message to the Syrian children hoping to come here. 

We elected a man who is scared of you,  and I regret to say, there is no chance you will be allowed in. 

*

I suspect almost all of the indigenous people fighting for water could say how they knew this was coming, if I really think about it,  quite frankly, this is nothing new:  de rigueur actions from Americans’ politics and politicians, even Obama is slow in helping you.

*

This bigoted assailant will now try to regulate love, and who can marry whom; but don’t worry too much:  we all can go buy guns. 

Dear would-be Madam President, I apologize to you.  I’m sorry you won the popular vote but not the electoral too. 

I apologize to all my white friends who warned me that Trump could be our fate. 

I argued with your profusely, I did not take your stance. 

If you knew this was the outcome, why did you do nothing to stop it?

(I wonder how you cast your ballot, which of them are you)

To all the American white people.  I hope you don’t rule again for years.

* 

But, I am mostly sorry to my sophomores, so sorry I did not make it to school November 9th.

I did not come to let you know it would be okay.  I’m not one for lying to children anyway.

I am sorry I was missing.  I will be there tomorrow. 

We will read Tagore and Yeats. 

Will you please forgive me? 

I am still crying, as ridiculous as that might be, and although an adult, it feels like I am still riding in the back of that station wagon on my way to preschool

very unsure about the rules of this world

and wondering when women will have their shot.

Okay, Annabelle, my tenth graders? 

I leave it now to you.

Monica Rowley teaches amazing high school students in Brooklyn, noting that they are far better than she is at trigonometry and pentameter. She loves sharks and tigers, Gilgamesh, and Ramprasad Sen's poetry to the Goddess Kali. She is the oldest of seven, and her siblings are her best friends. She considers this turn of sibling luck the best fortune she could have.  Monica has been the recipient of several grants and awards, including one from the National Endowment for the Humanities. If you would like to read more of her poems, check them out on Brooklyn Poets’ The Bridge or in the upcoming issue of the Irish literary journal, The Ogham Stone.

[bountyofbeads]

Brett Kavanaugh Fit In With the Privileged Kids. She Did Not.

https://www.nytimes.com/2019/09/14/sunday-review/brett-kavanaugh-deborah-ramirez-yale.html

Wow.

"During his Senate testimony, Mr. Kavanaugh said that if the incident Ms. Ramirez described had occurred, it would have been 'the talk of campus.' Our reporting suggests that it was."

"At least seven people, including Ms. Ramirez’s mother, heard about the Yale incident long before Mr. Kavanaugh was a federal judge. Two of those people were classmates who learned of it just days after the party occurred"

And there is also another alleged incident of sexual assault: "A classmate, Max Stier, saw Mr. Kavanaugh with his pants down at a different drunken dorm party, where friends pushed his penis into the hand of a female student."

"Hey, so while we're talking about all the ways that #KavanaughLied, let's figure out who paid off his mortgage and credit card debt?"

"You know, because there's still the possibility that person could have business before the Supreme Court. Or maybe already has." Matthew Chapman @fawfulfan

Brett Kavanaugh Fit In With the Privileged Kids. She Did Not.

Deborah Ramirez’s Yale experience says much about the college’s efforts to diversify its student body in the 1980s.

By Robin Pogrebin and Kate Kelly | Published September 14, 2019 | New York Times | Posted September 15, 2019 9:48 AM ET |

Ms. Pogrebin and Ms. Kelly are reporters with The Times and authors of the forthcoming book, “The Education of Brett Kavanaugh: An Investigation.”

Deborah Ramirez had the grades to go to Yale in 1983. But she wasn’t prepared for what she’d find there.

A top student in southwestern Connecticut, she studied hard but socialized little. She was raised Catholic and had a sheltered upbringing. In the summers, she worked at Carvel dishing ice cream, commuting in the $500 car she’d bought with babysitting earnings.

At Yale, she encountered students from more worldly backgrounds. Many were affluent and had attended elite private high schools. They also had experience with drinking and sexual behavior that Ms. Ramirez — who had not intended to be intimate with a man until her wedding night — lacked.

During the winter of her freshman year, a drunken dormitory party unsettled her deeply. She and some classmates had been drinking heavily when, she says, a freshman named Brett Kavanaugh pulled down his pants and thrust his penis at her, prompting her to swat it away and inadvertently touch it. Some of the onlookers, who had been passing around a fake penis earlier in the evening, laughed.

To Ms. Ramirez it wasn’t funny at all. It was the nadir of her first year, when she often felt insufficiently rich, experienced or savvy to mingle with her more privileged classmates.

“I had gone through high school, I’m the good girl, and now, in one evening, it was all ripped away,” she said in an interview earlier this year at her Boulder, Colo., home. By preying upon her in this way, she added, Mr. Kavanaugh and his friends “make it clear I’m not smart.”

Mr. Kavanaugh, now a justice on the Supreme Court, has adamantly denied her claims. Those claims became a flash point during his confirmation process last year, when he was also fighting other sexual misconduct allegations from Christine Blasey Ford, who had attended a Washington-area high school near his.

Ms. Ramirez’s story would seem far less damaging to Mr. Kavanaugh’s reputation than those of Dr. Ford, who claimed that he pinned her to a bed, groped her and tried to remove her clothes while covering her mouth.

But while we found Dr. Ford’s allegations credible during a 10-month investigation, Ms. Ramirez’s story could be more fully corroborated. During his Senate testimony, Mr. Kavanaugh said that if the incident Ms. Ramirez described had occurred, it would have been “the talk of campus.” Our reporting suggests that it was.

At least seven people, including Ms. Ramirez’s mother, heard about the Yale incident long before Mr. Kavanaugh was a federal judge. Two of those people were classmates who learned of it just days after the party occurred, suggesting that it was discussed among students at the time.

We also uncovered a previously unreported story about Mr. Kavanaugh in his freshman year that echoes Ms. Ramirez’s allegation. A classmate, Max Stier, saw Mr. Kavanaugh with his pants down at a different drunken dorm party, where friends pushed his penis into the hand of a female student. Mr. Stier, who runs a nonprofit organization in Washington, notified senators and the F.B.I. about this account, but the F.B.I. did not investigate and Mr. Stier has declined to discuss it publicly. (We corroborated the story with two officials who have communicated with Mr. Stier.)

Mr. Kavanaugh did not speak to us because we could not agree on terms for an interview. But he has denied Dr. Ford’s and Ms. Ramirez’s allegations, and declined to answer our questions about Mr. Stier’s account.

Yale in the 1980s was in the early stages of integrating more minority students into its historically privileged white male population. The college had admitted its first black student in the 1850s, but by Ms. Ramirez’s time there, people of color comprised less than a fifth of the student body. Women, who had been admitted for the first time in 1969, were still relative newcomers.

Mr. Kavanaugh fit the more traditional Yale mold. His father was a trade association executive, his mother a prosecutor and later a judge. They lived in tony Bethesda, Md., and owned a second home on Maryland’s Eastern Shore. As a student at a prominent Jesuit all-boys school, Georgetown Prep, Mr. Kavanaugh was surrounded by the sons of powerful Washington professionals and politicians. He was an avid sports fan and known to attend an annual teenage bacchanal called “Beach Week,” where the hookups and drinking were more important than the sand and swimming.

Ms. Ramirez grew up in a split-level ranch house in working-class Shelton, Conn., perhaps best known for producing the Wiffle ball, and didn’t drink before college. Her father, who is Puerto Rican, rose through the Southern New England Telephone Company, having started as a cable splicer. Her mother, who is French, was a medical technician.

Before coming to Yale, Ms. Ramirez took pride in her parents�� work ethic and enjoyed simple pleasures like swimming in their aboveground pool, taking camping trips and riding behind her father on his snowmobile. She was studious, making valedictorian at her Catholic elementary school and excelling at her Catholic high school, St. Joseph.

She and her parents took out loans to pay for Yale, and she got work-study jobs on campus, serving food in the dining halls and cleaning dorm rooms before class reunions.

She tried to adapt to Yale socially, joining the cheerleading squad her freshman year, sometimes positioned at the pinnacle of the pyramid. But Ms. Ramirez learned quickly that although cheerleading was cool in high school, it didn’t carry the same cachet at Yale. People called her Debbie Cheerleader or Debbie Dining Hall or would start to say “Debbie does … ” playing on the 1978 porn movie “Debbie Does Dallas.” But Ms. Ramirez didn’t understand the reference.

“She was very innocent coming into college,” Liz Swisher, who roomed with Ms. Ramirez for three years at Yale and is now a physician in Seattle, later recalled. “I felt an obligation early in freshman year to protect her.”

There were many more unhappy memories of college. Fellow students made fun of the way she dropped consonants when she spoke, but also ribbed her for not being fluent in Spanish. They mocked her knockoff black-and-red Air Jordans. They even questioned her admission on the merits. “Is it because you’re Puerto Rican?” someone once asked her.

“My mom would have preferred me to go to a smaller college — looking back at it, she was right,” Ms. Ramirez said. At Yale, “they invite you to the game, but they never show you the rules or where the equipment is.”

It wasn’t until she got a call from a reporter and saw her account of Mr. Kavanaugh described as “sexual misconduct” in The New Yorker that Ms. Ramirez understood it as anything more than one of many painful encounters at Yale.

Ms. Ramirez also did not see herself as a victim of ethnic discrimination. The college campuses of the 1980s had yet to be galvanized by the identity and sexual politics that course through today’s cultural debates.

Years after graduating, however, she started volunteering with a nonprofit organization that assists victims of domestic violence — the Safehouse Progressive Alliance for Nonviolence, or SPAN. She became a staff member for a time and continues to serve on its board. Gradually she embraced her Puerto Rican roots.

This awakening caused Ms. Ramirez to distance herself from the past. She fell out of touch with one Yale friend — who had asked Ms. Ramirez to be her daughter’s godmother — after the friend’s husband made fun of a book she was reading on racial identity. The husband, a Yale classmate, was one of the students she remembered being at the dorm party that difficult night.

“If I felt like a person in my life wasn’t going to embrace my journey or would somehow question it,” she said, “I just let them go.”

Mr. Kavanaugh’s confirmation hearings were wrenching, as he strained to defend his character after Dr. Ford’s searing testimony. Thousands of miles away, Ms. Ramirez, who was never asked to testify, also found the hearings distressing. Her efforts to backstop her recollections with friends would later be cited as evidence that her memory was unreliable or that she was trying to construct a story rather than confirm one.

Ms. Ramirez’s legal team gave the F.B.I. a list of at least 25 individuals who may have had corroborating evidence. But the bureau — in its supplemental background investigation — interviewed none of them, though we learned many of these potential witnesses tried in vain to reach the F.B.I. on their own.

Two F.B.I. agents interviewed Ms. Ramirez, telling her that they found her “credible.” But the Republican-controlled Senate had imposed strict limits on the investigation. “‘We have to wait to get authorization to do anything else,’” Bill Pittard, one of Ms. Ramirez’s lawyers, recalled the agents saying. “It was almost a little apologetic.”

Senator Sheldon Whitehouse, Democrat of Rhode Island and member of the Judiciary Committee, later said, “I would view the Ramirez allegations as not having been even remotely investigated.” Other Democrats agreed.

Ultimately, Senator Charles E. Grassley, Republican of Iowa and chairman of the Judiciary Committee, concluded, “There is no corroboration of the allegations made by Dr. Ford or Ms. Ramirez.” Mr. Kavanaugh was confirmed on Oct. 6, 2018, by a vote of 50-48, the closest vote for a Supreme Court justice in more than 130 years.

Still, Ms. Ramirez came to feel supported by the very Yale community from which she had once felt so alienated. More than 3,000 Yale women signed an open letter commending her “courage in coming forward.” More than 1,500 Yale men issued a similar letter two days later.

She also received a deluge of letters, emails and texts from strangers containing messages like, “We’re with you, we believe you, you are changing the world,” and “Your courage and strength has inspired me. The bravery has been contagious.”

College students wrote about how Ms. Ramirez had helped them find the words to express their own experiences. Medical students wrote about how they were now going to listen differently to victims of sexual violence. Parents wrote about having conversations with their children about how bad behavior can follow them through life. One father told Ms. Ramirez he was talking to his two sons about how their generation is obligated to be better.

Ms. Ramirez saved all of these notes in a decorative box that she keeps in her house, turning to them even now for sustenance. One person sent a poem titled “What Is Justice” that has resonated deeply with her.

“You can’t look at justice as just the confirmation vote,” she said. “There is so much good that came out of it. There is so much more good to come.”

This essay is adapted from the forthcoming book “The Education of Brett Kavanaugh: An Investigation.”

[lbsurratt]

Big Family Christmas

We are already a month in to 2018. Where does the time go? As I write this I am figuring out our grocery list for the next two weeks. We have increased retirement savings, adjusted to tithe fully, and are currently on a smaller budget than last year due to me stopping work in August. We have a raise coming in December, 11 months away. I have already said no to two things because we do not have the money set aside. Charge it, you say? We have no debt besides our house and plan to keep it that way. Plus we just recovered from the three ER visits between July and November for our 3-year-old (she is auditioning for Bride of Frankenstein). I really started trying not to bust budget starting this past fall. And I am mostly succeeding. Christmas was no exception.

Christmas was extra special this year because our eldest daughter turned 10 December 26. What, a 10-year-old? It makes sense as we have six kids, but still. It is also the year we have been seriously penny pinching. We want to minimize our things, not be bursting at the seams. I had a budget for us because we do not save up all year to spend thousands of dollars on one holiday. We save up for trips and events, not toys. I had about $100 to work with.

*St NIcholas Party at church

As September and October rolled around this year I started to ponder Christmas. Our girls have so many things. Things as in dolls, puzzles, LEGOs, books, clothes, things. What could they possibly need for Christmas? We have family that wants to buy things, we want to give something, oh, and St. Nicholas may stop by. We don’t want our girls to only want material things, but at the same time you want them to get some nice things. You also want them to understand the true meaning of Christmas and not just a commercialized holiday. What to do?

*Christmas carols at St Joseph Retirement Home, Dallas

Here is our December. I actually sent out Christmas wish lists end of November or beginning of December. I let the girls choose just a few toys because we don’t need much. We also included practical things like new sleeping bags for our camping trips, cardigan sweaters, watches, new books, and memberships. There was enough for a few ideas for the grandparents, aunts and uncles. I decided to make our gifts to the girls. 

*Laying wreaths at DFW Veterans Cemetery

We started with Truth in the Tinsel again, Advent crafts left by our Christmas angel. We did about 10 out of 24. Not bad but not as many as I wanted to do. This kept us busy during the first two weeks of December. We had two Christmas parties, one for our homeschool co-op and then the homeschool group at church. Treats and fun activities. Score! St. Nicholas came by December 6 and left candy and gingerbread houses for the girls. Score! We made cookies but ate them all. Score for us! December 13 was the Feast of St Lucy, which we didn’t celebrate because Lucy is in public Kindergarten and she is exhausted every day. As in she takes a nap every day when she gets home from school. Maybe next year. Fail! But she got money from Grandma and Grandpa to pick anything she wanted at the shop at church. Score for Lucy! The girls also sang Christmas carols in Latin and English at the Catholic nursing home in Dalllas. The same morning we headed to the DFW Veterans Cemetery to lay wreaths on graves. Double score and community service! We also saw the Bachelor Blue Christmas light display in Cedar Hill that won awards on TV. Cold but fun and festive, so Score!

*Gingerbread houses from St. Nicholas

Somewhere in these weeks I got a cold that would not go away. My making Christmas gifts turned into a true deadline because I did not feel well enough to stay up late Loom Knitting my project - six cupcake dolls and six cowl scarves in matching yarn. Also, Greg was out of town for two weeks. I am used to being solo, but solo and sick do not mix well. I managed to make a Christmas letter and get pictures printed to send out our 80 Christmas cards. We got 33. I need to shave my list, but that means not sending cards to extended family. What to do. 

*Bachelor Blue Christmas

Before we knew it we were traveling to San Antonio for Christmas with the few cookies we still had left and some large garbage bags containing mystery things in the back. I spent the last week before Christmas finishing up six dolls and managed to make three out of the six scarves by Christmas Eve night. We went to Saturday evening Mass and Christmas Eve Mass to meet our obligations, and had great meals that Greg’s mom made. Christmas morning came and St. Nicholas left large presents in white garbage bags with color coordinated bows. Each girl has a color, per se, so the bags were lined up in birth order with their color. E is blue, C is orange/red, J is purple, L is green, K is pink, and B gets whatever is leftover. Yellow or White? 

*6 completed dolls and 3 cowls, made in colors they like and to match winter coats

And guess what? All that wondering if the girls would have a great Advent and Christmas? We received almost everything on their lists (need a smaller list), to include the sleeping bags and the few toys, cardigans, books and a watch. St. Nicholas brought huge character pillows which are on their beds. And the girls loved their dolls, made with matching scarves (which I finished within a few days) that they have worn in our very cold season. We did it again a few days later when my parents came to visit. 

* K’s pillow is as big as her

But the most important part of the season was spending time with family, eating way too much food and sweets, and going to Mass as often as possible. I really liked Christmas and New Years being on a Monday because then we went at least two days in a row if not three. And don’t worry, our now 10-year-old was spoiled on her birthday with lots of note cards, writing paper, stamps, a purse from Hawaii, clothes, a Wonder Woman ice cream cake, brick oven pizza, and the new Star Wars film in 3-D. 

* Ready for Star Wars in our new sweaters and scarves, plus one doll along for the ride

Our best memories from this Advent and Christmas were eating good food, spending time together, and discovering new things. I can do Christmas on a tight budget and have a great time. Ask me again when I need to plan a $2000 wedding in 15 to 20 years. 

* Family portrait Christmas Eve