The Redstar Perspective

Greetings from Santiago!  The wedding was yesterday - beautiful.  In this Catholic chapel on a univ campus in the suburbs of downtown Santiago, but actual chapel looked like an old CA mission.  The vegetation/flowers, etc. set up were amazing, the staff was abundant and the food was good, if WAY too fancy for me.  Fran’s Chilean friends and family are very stylish and smart - the M.A.S. called them the cognescetti.    Many architects and urbanists, so we have no shortage of conversation, which is good.  The only drawback to the wedding was that the reception was outside from noon to 6, and SO hot.  Really really hot. The M.A.S. looked very glamorous.  We are having a nice time.

The only drawback is the weather here. It is SO dry.  My throat is always so dry, and my hair is gross, copious amounts of conditioner do not do it.  It’s all about the ponytail this week.

We are headed to the beach house this afternoon, today we will explore Santiago a bit uintil we head out later in the day.  I am wearing a big red hat that I love but the M.A.S. thinks makes me look eccentric, like one of the elderly ladies who wears purple.  But what does he know! 

Happy New Year!

Weboy here - As you can see, the lady just can’t take a vacation.

One thing Red asked me to do - and I am happy to take this up - is to warn you away from Miami International Airport. For such a major city, Miami’s airport is a surprisingly low-rent affair. And, more than most airports in the post 9/11 world, Miami has had to do a lot of catching up in terms of security and border patrol.

Keep in mind that MIA is the main embarkation point for much of Central and South America into the US, as well as the Caribbean. Much of this has to do with the dominance of American Airlines in the airport, and the large Hispanic population already there (I remember being surprised in Costa Rica to discover that the most comprehensive English-language paper in the region was the Miami Herald).

So Miami is just frustrating - poorly laid out, and with added security, luggage laden walks can stretch interminably. International Customs paperwork (Passport review) is handled on a third floor mezzanine above the airport - but Customs Baggage Check is in the basement. Thus people on my return flight from Curacao (which was hours late) who thought they could still make their connections nearly died when they realized all the procedural hurdles between them and their next flight. And, thanks to the reconfigured space, one had to return through the main security checkpoint to get back to the gates, creating additional delays as American tries to hold flights for connections.

Don’t get me wrong - I think Post 9/11 Security is crucial. And I love to fly - I am willing to accept the trade-offs needed for increased security at airports, and I think more travelers should get themselves better educated about what needs to happen at security checkpoints. But Miami is a mess. And there’s nothing reassuring or safe-making about their security process. And the lack of amenities (which Red helpfully pointed out, close at around 8pm when she was flying at midnight) is just mystifying - though it’s clear Miami was never designed to have service at the gate areas, but only in the main terminal. That’s changing. But all of it is a good indicator of two things: one is that for all it’s boasting about being the “American Riviera,” Miami thinks surprisingly small about its basic services; and the other is that Miami is a reminder of just how many problems remain on the Homeland Security front - in terms of airline security, immigration, and anti-terror efforts.

But I’d be happy if they just had a nice Chinese place near the gate.

Per usual, trying to figure out how to use the foreign language keyboard.  Hoping this time her boyfriend hasn’t fallen asleep and thus locked her out of her room. 

Ola!  Buenes Noches!  From Santiago, Chile! I see you’ve all met my guest blogger - NYC Weboy.  As he dropped me off at Logan (not too many can pride themselves on providing a turquoise company car!), I thanked him for assuming my identity while I was gone.  I have no doubt he’ll keep the place clean and the martinis flowing, the latter purely in my honor.

I need sleep, and no more cervesas and pisco sours, and I will shortly pursue that.  But first I had to say hello.  Chile is cool so far; anything can outshine the Miami Airport, that’s for sure - what a dump.  Place shuts down at 8:30 pm - no food, no People magazines, etc. - despite numerous flights taking off - and being delayed - well after midnight.  Also, it’s a gateway to the U.S. from Latin America, and the primary food is Pizza Hut and/or Uno’s - 50g of fat per individual pizza serving, no doubt.  Welcome to America.

We took off after midnight.  I slept a heavily medicated sleep on board, and we survived through arduous customs/immigration lines only to learn at check-in to the hotel that we’re missing a document, and there will be “paperwork” waiting for us when we return to the Santiago airport (SCL) on Sat.  We rented a car, it was delivered to us on empty; we speak no Spanish so got no directions to the hotel, but the M.A.S. was a fabulous navigator using multiple maps out of the travel book, and I drove my usual Masshole style and we arrived in style, if a bit sweaty.  It is SUMMER here.

We lunched, slept, have a terrific junior suite deal at the very cute hotel orly in providencia, santiago - it’s Brookline or Cambridge or something - and had a terrific dinner with the American hipster crew who has arrived for our friend Fran’s wedding.  It’s all Brooklyn fashionista here, all the time.   I am doing my best to maintain my UES style, which is not all Ralph Lauren all the time, but some upscale mall version of that.  Hopefully Wesley can dissect.

The wedding is tomorrow; I forgot the lovely earrings the M.A.S. gave me - in an effort to not bring any valued jewelry abroad, so we had fun shopping at South American downtown malls tonight buying me a new, tackier, bejeweled pair.  And a big red hat for when we head up to the beach on NYE.  I will be in touch again, but I don’t know when.  It’s cool here.  It’s urban, a cuidad (anyone who’s ever ridden the NYC subway knows that word).  I assumed I knew Spanish, living in NYC for all that time, but I don’t speak a word of it.  Joke’s on me.

Miss you, and be nice to Weboy.  He’s sharp and smart and on to you, and John Edwards too.  That’s a big photo op to live up to, such an announcement from the L9W.

 

Weboy here.

So, before Red left on her trip, I kind of mentioned John Edwards announcing his decision to run for President (big surprise), but I didn’t get a chance to engage her in the part I found a little disturbing: his decision to make that declaration in The Lower 9th Ward.

Since Katrina, Edwards has made an admirable effort to volunteer time, energy and support to Katrina relief. He’s been down there on several occasions and he’s encouraged others to get involved. On the day he declared, he helped yet again with cleanup efforts.

So why do I find myself a little, well, dismayed at the politics of it? Well, maybe it’s the way RedStar has posted so often and with such energy on the situation in NOLA. Maybe it’s those pictures she sent me documenting the destruction and the slowness of the cleanup process.

But I think mainly it’s that I hate to see Katrina and its victims become props for the Presidential race, especially when the basics of cleanup, rebuilding and sorting out the public policy issues involved are still such a struggle. I am not questioning Edwards or his intentions here - I believe he is sincere in his attempts to make “Two Americas” and a renewed commitment to addressing poverty central to his campaign. But when Hillary goes there, or McCain goes there (or Obama even), what then? When little progress is still being made, what can we say? Who can we ask? Who, after all, will bear responsibility, not for how we got here, but where NOLA is going from here?

I firmly believe that a big part of the 2008 election will be facing up to a number of issues we haven’t dealt with up to now; and I’ve laid out a number of them over at my spot. But the point of these problems is that they are big ones that have languished for a while now, and solving them will be complex and take fresh approaches and new coalitions, and not the politics as usual. Katrina and its aftermath won’t be fixed with a photo op, and the manual labor of helping a few folks dig out will only go so far. I look forward to hearing Edwards offer up something comprehensive on moving forward in NOLA. Without it, he’s just a pretty face in a nice photo op.

Hello. I am Weboy.

Red has graciously supplied with the keys to the kingdom (queendom?) and the use of a company automobile; not a bad arrangement, if you ask me.

So here I am. What can I tell you about me? Not much - I am trying to be the Zorro of Cyberspace, so I try to keep a lot of personal details out. Some people believe they can call me Wesley, but I can neither confirm nor deny. Once, I was a New Yorker; now I am a New Yorker in Exile.
What I can tell you is that RedStar and I share a love of Grey’s Anatomy, similar political views, a tangled work history, and, usually, the Most WASPiest Night of the Year. I can also tell you that I love to write about film, that I have some strong views on a variety things, and that I have created a monster called the Worst Song Ever.

For the next couple of weeks, I will try to keep the place tidy, dust occasionally, post on the topics I think Red would talk about herself, and try to maintain two sites at once. My plan is for very little cross-posting, because I think things should be distinct. We’ll see how that, and my sanity, holds up.

Please feel free to e-mail me (nycweboy-at-nycweboy-dot-com) your thoughts and suggestions. I am very customer service oriented. And try not to break anything - Red will kill us if she finds out we had a party without her.

NYC Weboy has graciously agreed to guest blog while I’m away.  As you all should know, he has taken the blogging world by storm.  I don’t know how frequently he will post here, but I’m sure it will be entertaining.  Give him some love. 

As for any other takers, they will be a surprise.  Keep your fingers crossed.

 

Oh, and the redemption of the Izzie-Denny storyline is Alex holding her at the end while she cries.  That works.

 

And I’m out!

 

Commercialism, as wonderfully summed up here by a Jewish author on Christmas Eve day.

After reading this the other night, I thought to myself for the first time, if I can’t relate to the rest of the U.S. as a liberal, lefty Northeast intellectual, maybe that’s ok.  Because this sh*t, I just don’t get.

But emptying the wallet as the primary demonstration of Christmas cheer - this woman’s speaking my language!  (This isn’t a language I love, but I’ll save the holiday hostilities for another time, another place.  Anyway, it should come as no surprise to anyone who reads the RP that I speak fluent NY Times or SATC, for whom the essay’s author is a former writer.)  Furthermore, as an armchair urban activist, I cracked up at this thirty-something’s indulgence in heading home for the holidays.  Right now I’m on my mother’s couch in fleece pajamas, my eyes shiny behind my glasses from yesterday’s make-up, waiting for my stepdad to fix the dvd player in the living room so we can further zone out with The Break-Up (I tried to rent videos last night that the other half of the M.A.S. would never hope to see - in addition to the Jennifer Aniston/Vince Vaughn lovefest, I got Take the Lead with Antonio Banderas, The Devil Wears Prada, and the predictably pretentious The Squid and The Whale).  If I were at my dad’s house, I’d be watching crappy TBS movies on his huge, HDTV flatscreen (actually he’d probably have football on), in a set of flannel pjs, with a handful of either peanut m&m’s, chips ahoy or oreo’s out of the cookie jars on the counter. 

Meanwhile, the M.A.S. is on location in Virginia, getting ready for evening services at the National Cathedral with his family.  What are the odds I’ll be out of my pj’s by then?  (Though I could be enticed with a glass of this.)

I’m also recovering from a wracking head cold, and two days of seeing friends in NYC.  It was a weird trip, in that I felt disconnected from the city in a way I hadn’t before.  Could have been the preponderance of chain stores everywhere - I know, this is old news for urbanists and/or New Yorkers, but it seemed everytime I turned a corner there was a new outpost in my line of vision (Dunkin Donuts on the corner of 26th & 3rd, the new Sephora on Broadway in Lower Manhattan, the Applebee’s down the street through the front window of my cab, etc.); or the tourist routes that I took past Ground Zero, and through Times Square and Rockefeller Center from a downtown breakfast and midtown lunch with working girls K and Leah, respectively.  It could also be that of the five friends I did feast with - including WAY TOO MUCH BBQ for dinner fri night with the High Drama set - not one of them lives in Manhattan, and only two live in NYC.  My conversations of babies, families, homeownership and work could have been about anyone, anywhere, other than the relevance of the cost of living in the Tri-State area.  I did have one classic NY moment, when my cab driver got out of the cab after me to ask me to dinner.  Go urban single gal go!  “No thanks,” I cut him off, gathering packages around me and heading inside.  Ew.  Inside to friend Steve of the High Dramas’s Gramercy apartment, which, also in NYC fashion, has an average indoor temp of about 85 degrees.  It might feel warm and cozy if it ever got cold outside again. 

With a terrible cold for the last few days, I had a lot more time to spare in NYC than usual, barred as I was from visiting new moms and their susceptible little kids.  Armed with my camera phone, I took a little Xmas tour through the city b/w meals.  I leave you with these photos (I particularly LOVE the oversized-chandelier-as-decoration) as I sign off for the holidays. 

Best Wishes for a Wonderful Christmas, Holiday, etc. etc. etc. to all!

(Leah and I think the NYSE tree is nicer than the Rock tree, don’t you?)

 

 

 

To you and yours, from the M.A.S.!

Check out the first holiday production by the M.A.S., a fabulous tree with ornaments of mardi gras beads (Thanks K!), choir ladies singing, and a range of NYC and Bloomingdale’s centric baubles.  A whole series of vacation-oriented gifts for him (more to come on the M.A.S. Abroad 2007 in a later post), and a variety of items for my kitchen for me (yes, I am the perfect stereotype of the single gal who has no use for her kitchen, with the exception of storing shoes in the oven) and a beautiful pair of earrings from Barneys (my better half in the M.A.S. has excellent taste, if I do say so myself!). 

And in a few hours I kick off my 2006 Holiday tour - NYC, Connecticut, Massachusetts.  Checking in with friends and family to celebrate the season.  Presents are wrapped and in shopping bags by the door; all that remains is to get off this couch and turn off Dr. Phil and get out of these pj’s. 

Merry Christmas Everyone!!

I know, I’m a few days late…I’m a bad Deis grad, and a bad Honorary MOT!

But I’ve been wrapping up - and celebrating the end of  - the semester.

In the spirit of the season, forgive me! 

So,

Happy Hanukah!

From my Community to Yours.

 

This was a lovely image as I stumbled up the sidewalk last night, laden down with Nordstrom boxes from the Providence mall.  Love the upscale department store, the quality of the items, the quality of the service.  Makes the prices feel worth it compared to waiting endlessly at shabby Macy’s for the salesperson who never materializes, leaving you to wonder if you can’t just find something better elsewhere exhibited by a person who actually turns up to assist you.  (I was wrong to buy in so quickly to the overall department store renaissance, vs. the fortitude of the luxury retailers.  The veteran Wesley correctly tells it like it is.) 

I hate Providence Place, like I hate Cambridge Side Galleria.  Pay-to-park (I’m sorry, didn’t I just give you all my $$ inside?), tall and narrow three-story malls that make you feel like you’re always walking from the dept. store anchors back to the escalators in the middle, or to the food court tucked in the opposite corner 2 flights up from where you’re standing outside the Gap.  Is there anything more depressing than sitting alone in a food court, gulping a lemonade or diet coke with a nasty $8 faux panini?  Gross.  Too late I discovered the Nordstrom cafe hidden in the children’s section, with ample, leafy salads just calling to my now slightly nauseated self. 

But I took care of just about everyone for the holidays.  While buying myself a pair of shoes, the checkout guy noted that I must “really love a lot of people,” I had so many packages.  I told him my friends “keep bringing babies into the world.”  If only it weren’t so fun buying kids clothes, I might be bitter about this.    Plus, it’s a feminist challenge each time in these stores to find some gender “appropriate” clothes without succumbing to the shackles of pink v. blue. 

But this week, we’re all about the blue:

Happy Hanukah!

One of my favorite topics, ever since a dear friend’s in-law referred to me as a “white do-gooder.”  In the pale flesh, at your service. 

Check out my latest post at TPM Cafe on 21st century modes of philanthropy, the feature article in the Time’s Sunday Magazine this week.  (I was motivated by the shorter celebration of “for-profit philanthropy” in the Time’s 6th Annual Year in Ideas.)

Happily, this post has generated some discussion at TPM.  I feared I was nagging people to death about poverty, so it’s a pleasure to see that folks haven’t tuned me out entirely.  Of course, this only confirms what the M.A.S. has long known, that people find some of our preferred topics of conversation “depressing.”  (Even as others remain staunchly in our camp.)

I get it; I exhaust myself.  I finished up the semester this wednesday, and discovered a new show - Bones - in my 4 hours in front of the tv that night.  (Fabulous drama loosely based on forensic anthropologist Kathy Reich’s work and life.  The show opened with a nerdy anthropologist defending his PhD thesis.  Somehow it is campy and entertaining celluloid fluff.)  Spent most of today on my mom’s couch watching Season 2 of Grey’s Anatomy; overdosing on tv and movies is my favorite post-semester ritual.  As I get ready for bed with a few episodes of Sex and the City, I silently curse the M.A.S. for souring me somewhat on this show (he finds it trite and, I believe, insulting to women).  If that’s the case, he’s got a lot to overcome in me; this show, along with my friendships such as the ones it depicts, got me through the pre-M.A.S. years. Lucky bastard.

(Meanwhile, this show is WAY underrated.)

From the government’s “annual feast for number crunchers,” the 2007 Statistical Abstract of the U.S., my favorite stat highlighted in the NY Times:

In 1970, 33,000 men and 2,000 women earned professional degrees.  In 2004, that distribution was 42,000 men and 41,000 women.  Does this mean that by the time my friends K,K,S,J,T,L, and N are running international companies and NGOs, the debate on female CEOs will be a thing of the past? (Of course, I’ll have appointed several of them to Cabinet positions by then, but it seems they’ll have plenty of young women to replace them when they relocate to DC.)

Other than that, there’s some tired debate on social capital in here, and an amusing notion of bloated American giants roaming the earth from the armchairs, thirsting for the world’s water and entertainment supply.  Also, turns out I never should have turned down that post-b school job offer from Bristol Meyers, as the pharma industry is where the job growth is. 

Also, pay no attention to those other gazillion blogs out there; there’s only one you need to turn to everyday. 

 

 

 

At NYU-Stern’s 2001 Graduation, I shared the podium with Paul Voelker, former Fed Chairman who Alice Amsden - a senior stateswoman economist in my department describes as the guy “who pulled the plug on prosperity” around the world.

Good times, those Reagan years.

Who’s with me on this one?

(or: Bush’s Listening Tour)

Dubya is in a bad relationship.  Hot in that exotic way, a pretty little rich girl, she’s a bad girl and she’s got him captivated.  His obsession is ruining his other relationships, and costing him a fortune.  It doesn’t look good for this poor sot.

Recently, his buddies tried to stage an intervention.  Cornering him at lunch, they told him he had to get out.  But he couldn’t believe it, and has since switched tables, searching for some peeps who will tell him this relationship can make it.  The gossip around campus is deafening.  The poor fool.

Meanwhile, if he does come to his senses, looks like this little lady will have to hit the road.  The other guys around town are on to her ways, and aren’t too likely to fall prey to her flirtations.  Not to say they’re not suckers for the other beguiling, mysterious vixens in her crew…

 

and one from MIT would know!! 

Researchers confirm what generations of hetero women have long known…

http://www.nytimes.com/2006/12/10/magazine/10section4.t-1.html

From the NYT’s 6th Annual Year in Ideas (which I never realized until now was more or less a celebration of the best research or most promising trends in society - must make this list!), a brief discussion of how rising economic inequality is affecting virtually all Americans save the absolute wealthiest (the top .1 percent, or 1/1000 families).  The M.A.S. and I were discussing how my research on poverty is based on a philosophical perspective that the poor’s problems aren’t that different from our own, just at a different scale.  I keep contending that they’re in fact becoming more similar to our own challenges as time passes.  It’ll be some time before I’m in the NYT’s Annual Ideas list, but I’m pleased - though not as much as I am troubled - to see this phenomenon captured here. 

Meanwhile, at the other end of the spectrum…

 

 

For all of you ambitious daydreamers doodling ideas in your notebook on this cozy Sunday morning, some words of wisdom from famous female entrepreneurs.  I find this stuff fascinating not only for the gender lessons within, but for my own aspirations to invent the new poverty alleviation strategy for the 21st century (this being the last “big idea.”)  To me, entrepreneurship is a certain spirit people possess more than anything; one entrepreneur here calls it a “lifestyle.”  Another says “optimism” is mandatory, and from what I’ve seen from entrepreneurs, that’s certainly true.  You have to believe in ever expanding market opportunities, and you have to be astute enough to identify them and know when to leap at them.

That’s the most telling lesson in this article (covering all types of business from real estate to make-up to scrap metal) - most of the women interviewed advise the rest of us to silence the internal doubt and fear.  Research bears this out - the gendered fear of failure that is one aspect of women’s lower entrepreneurial success (along with narrower access to resources, which these women also cite), and it’s remarkable how many of these entrepreneurs described having to learn to listen to their gut and to be willing to take risks.  As one senior entrepreneur notes, “the only difference between chairwoman and charwoman [cleaning lady] is the letter I.”  From there it’s merely overcoming stereotypes - internally and externally held - about women being financially and/or business savvy.  No small obstacle, but one that’s more easily tackled if we believe in ourselves. 

That sounds trite, put that way, but sadly, there’s too few high-profile business women and entrepreneurs, so finding some support in role models, mentors or female peers is difficult.  One woman acknowledges the importance of a supportive husband, and I might add, one who knows how to share in care-giving and family responsibilities.  The M.A.S. and I watched a totally overdone-in-true-Jerry-Bruckheimer-fashion movie on the pathbreaking, martyred Irish journalist Veronica Guerin last night, and her husband - painted as the primary parenting figure of their child - was martyred right along side her for his uber-supportive role as directed by Joel Schumacher.  These women are fortunate to have such partners; studies on high status women in science show that they are typically married to partners of equal professional status, whereas men are more likely to be married to women with lesser profile or demanding careers.  (My own gender research bears this out.)  As I’ve talked about in the past, striking an equitable or alternative domestic distribution of labor is hard enough, especially among high status, dual career couples.  I’m intently watching the approaches of my married women friends, most of whom earn as much or more than their partners.  It’s either a changing world out there, or I live in some alternative universe.  Welcome to Redstar Nation?

An official view and update on the public housing battle in NOLA from the Washington Post this morning.  At this meeting, my friend Rachel thought she saw tears from C. Donald Babers, the federally-appointed administrator in charge of HANO (Housing Authority of NO).  The Post presents him in a much colder light:

“C. Donald Babers, the federally appointed administrator running the Housing Authority of New Orleans, did not respond to that question in tersely approving the demolitions…The meeting, the last of a series of required “consultation meetings” with residents, appeared to be a formality. Babers thanked each person for his or her comments but made none himself. Nor did he answer any of the questions put to him. Residents called the process a sham.”

As you know, I agree, and I can hear long-time resident Stephanie Mingo’s comments as re-printed here:

“You are hurting people. You are killing people,” she said. “I don’t know how y’all can sleep at night.”

This article - like so many - brings up the sordid history of mixed-income in New Orleans, reminding us of the failure in redeveloping St. Thomas into River Garden to preserve housing for low-income families.

They point to the former St. Thomas project in the city:

“which was originally designed to house approximately 1,500 families. Its demolition, in 2002, has been followed by the construction of 296 apartments, 122 of them for low-income families. When the project is completed, it is supposed to have 1,100 new residential units, but critics say far too few of the poor displaced by the demolition will ever be able to live there.”

More instructive of the post-Katrina affordable housing climate is this article from yesterday’s Time-Pic, describing one former St. Thomas resident’s attempt to get into an River Garden apartment set aside for her prior to Katrina.  Turns out HANO employees were now living there:

“The apartment had been rented to someone else…in violation of a 2003 contract between public housing residents and HUD…leaving Corner out in the cold until lawyers were able to get her an appearance before a federal judge. Corner had all the documents she needed and clearly qualified for River Garden, her attorneys and the court documents have shown.

HANO and River Garden, which is managed by Historic Restoration Inc., leased 44 of 63 apartments reserved for public housing residents to HANO employees after last year’s hurricane season. While HANO employees found refuge at the newly constructed apartments, Corner and other public housing residents were forced to sleep in less comfortable digs.”

One thing I just learned from these articles was that despite being only 50% full (~5,000 units), NO public housing had a waiting list of 8,250 names.  So in reality, the relative loss of affordable housing in NO is much greater than I realized.

I’ll leave you with this quote from State Rep. Cedric Richmond (D) about the “underlying logic of the new developments” that pins “residents’ misery on the concentration of poverty in New Orleans:”

“It was always concentrated. Because you can’t get people to make beds and clean hotels if you educate them well and they expect a decent pay.”

See ya, ladies!

Make way for Madison, Emma and Isabella.

For data geeks like, me surrounded by pro-creating friends on all sides, the annual release of the top baby names is sure to provide at least 20 minutes of fun on a Grey’s-rerun Thursday night.

It’s pretty amusing actually to see the trends: Aunts Phyllis and Joan popping up in the 1940s lists (which means they were trendsetters, since I think at least one of them was born in the 1930s), and all the Amy’s and Laura’s we’re friends with today. (Meanwhile, Linda held steadfast to the Top 100 way beyond its due.)

Mostly, this 20 minutes of fun revolved around how poorly the M.A.S.fared in trying to guess these names. He really showed his age in guessing Robert and James, top choices in the ’70s. And when I read “Logan” to him, #10 on the 2006 boys list, he responded, “Airport?” We’ll have to wait for the list of top middle names for that one!

(I’m pleased in my quick survey of all these lists to see that my name never made the cut!)

PS: Here’s another fabulous name timewaster: Guessing the gender of a person’s name. Especially useful if you need to assume an alter ego and flee the state.

Sincerely,

M-J Grady