Amnesty International and Mary Poppins

Got a call from Nancy P. and we firmed up our plans to go to lunch and the play today. Also discussed some of our "medical issues," as the saying goes.
I started my rounds by going to the library. Took back Gore Vidal's essays (his I.Q. must have been in the stratosphere--a marvelous writer and thinker), plus a DVD on rape in colleges. Somehow, although I'm very much interested in true crime, this didn't catch my interest. Got out a new(ish) book on the Lindbergh kidnapping, about which I've read an enormous amount. Ewing, where we lived for forty years, is only a few miles from Hopewell, where the family lived and where the baby was taken. This should be interesting, especially because the "lock" on original materials--transcripts, notes, and so on--has been lifted and the author made use of all of them. Took out a DVD on the making of the Mary Tyler Moore Show. I like the topic, but can't stand the breathless, actress-y delivery of the reader, so the hell with it. When I listen to books on discs, I want the reader to maintain an even tone--I'll supply the theatrics, as I do in my head when I read something with my eyes.
Went from there to the College Methodist Church. No, I haven't gotten religion, but I had read in the paper that Amnesty International was holding a Write-A-Thon there. Volunteers write letters to officials in various countries, asking that specific political prisoners be released or receive a fair trial or escape torture, or whatever. I stayed for an hour and wrote several letters--to Iran, different countries in Africa, and so on. Also talked to the organizer, hoping to find a pacifist group. She sort of has one, but it's--well--she and another woman dress in black, stand at the Mall intersection and hold a sign urging peace.
What was bothersome about this group? Two things that I find, I'm afraid, in practically every such organization: One, the dearth of young people. I guess there were fifteen people at the three tables; almost all women and incredibly, many were probably older than I am. Two middle-aged men played and sang peace songs on a flute and guitar. Exactly one person was young, a student at Ventura College.
I stayed about an hour, then left, but before I did, I got into conversation with several people. They all brought up Trump, actually taking him seriously (as a menace, since this was a leftist-type group). I mentioned my theory that he's simply a diversionary tactic, so Clinton, drenched in blood as she is, will be elected. The second problem I see as deplorable is that people in these groups defend her and Obama (and/or Sanders), as if, if they're democrats, they must get a pass. Don't they know Obama meets weekly with the honored Fordham grad, CIA Director Brennan, and they decide who to kill? It's amazing how many people think I made this up; geez, it was in the New York Times, the news released by the administration itself.
Oh, well, at least they're writing to dictators and heads of judiciaries to try to rescue a few poor souls. I doubt, though, if the letters will ever reach the recipients; if they do, said dictators and dignitaries will show them around to their cronies for a few laughs. That's better than adding to the mayhem, I guess.
Went home to move my big pictures here and there just to get them out of the way. Found my puny little box of Christmas things. I'm not sure how they, in particular, survived the general clearing-out of what amounted to a store's worth of holiday items, but what I have left are eight members of my Father Christmas collection and the four battery-operated "candles" I always liked in the windows. Since I no longer exactly have windows, just sliding glass doors in my two rooms, I put them on the tables in the living room. Bought a pretty poinsettia plant--bright red, my favorite--and it looks nice in the dining area.
I was just finishing up when El called; she was coloring her hair and as ever, it was good to talk to her. While we were chatting, the adorable and precious baby boy Skyped from Tokyo and we both were able to see him him, Daddy, and Mommy. He was talking a blue streak and could say where he lived and so on. What an angel--seeing him topped off a good, active day.
After that, I surprised myself during my daily t.v. viewing by coming across Mary Poppins and watching it for an hour. True, the story line is trite, but I was fascinated by the bright colors, Julie Andrews' beauty, and the very artificiality of the sets. That's what happens when you don't often watch--you're rewarded by great enjoyment of things like scenery and props, rather than being jaded. It really is a marvelous--but oh, so dangerous--invention.