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April 23, 2000
Somebody get me my soapbox!
Okay, first go read what Saundra had to say about the whole sordid Elian thing. At the end, insert me yelling "AMEN, SISTER!" I couldn't have said it better. I woke up yesterday, wandered into the living room with my coffee and Pop-Tart, turned on the TV, and the first thing I saw was a special report saying that Elian had finally been taken to his father. I woke Barry up yelling "Woohooo! It's about damn time!"
The whole thing has made me angry. For the past couple of months, Barry's been hastily changing the channel whenever anything about Elian came on the news, because i would start to rant and fume if I watched. That poor little kid has been nothing but a pawn for five months -- I don't believe for a second that his relatives in Miami had anything resembling his best interests in mind. I don't think they cared in the least what was best for him. All they cared about was the fact that his presence in their home made them instant celebrities. They were worldwide news! They were heroes! They had fans and reporters and photographers watching their every move! And it all hinged on this little boy, who had already been through more than any child should ever have to endure. And instead of shielding him from more confusion and worry, they paraded him in front of the cameras, and in front of the noisy crowds gathered outside. They stuck American flags in his hands and told him to wave. They used him, and yes, I do think they abused him.
Of course the need for armed INS officers was a shame. But honestly, there was no other option. Elian's relatives had broken at least three promises to reunite Elian with his father. There was no way they were ever going to willingly give him up. I was very afraid that, at some point, one of the relatives was going to take Elian and run, go into hiding, and try to keep him from his father forever. They had no right to keep him as long as they did, and no right to play the games that they played.
This just gets me all riled up. Sorry for the rant. Other than my own righteous indignation, the weekend has been pretty quiet. I'm working today, and I'm not happy about it. Yesterday we packed as much as we could before running out of steam -- the house is looking pretty bare, and the cat is freaking out. I'm still trying to figure out the best way to get her to the new place without scaring her too much -- Barry has suggested that I get someone to give me a ride to the new apartment, while the truck is being loaded, so that I can put her in the spare bedroom and sit with her until she feels calm. What do you think?
Posted by Mary Ellen at April 23, 2000 10:32 PM