Friday, November 30, 2012

It's the Ground Game, Baby! (Going to a Swing State to Campaign and Partying with the Dems)

Click here for An Open Letter to President Obama.

Yay! The election’s over and Four More Years! Four More Years! Which of course inspired me to write an Inaugural Poem for Obama #44 (try to guess where I sneak in the #44 in my poem! The answer is (will be in the Crib Notes explaining the poem!) Check out Other Inaugural Poems from great poets like Robert Frost for J.F.K. and Maya Angelou for  B.O., yeah! (And remember to Friend me on Facebook to get the poem out!)


For almost half in this country, it’s nothing to celebrate. My sister even felt labor pangs when Obama won again (yay!) but they subsided and my godson was born a week later. The labor pangs were from stress, not a good kind when she wanted Romney to win. Luckily, there was no talk of politics when I visited my sis for the baptism. It helps when you stay in a hotel and rent your own car. (Hotel my idea, car rental my mom’s.)

The week before the election, I wanted to head over to Nevada to do some campaigning, but had to finish some work before I could. Had to make sure that I had enough to cover my bills while taking some time off. For weeks, Obama For America had urged me to make a donation, even as little as five dollars, they said, but I hadn’t even that amount to give since everything was going to bills. Finally, a few days before the campaign, I had mustered enough to cover my bills while away in Nevada, with a few bucks, i.e., five dollars, left over to either donate to Obama For America or buy a fruit smoothie from Burger King (my serving of fruits and vegetables for the day). Burger King had a buy-one-get-one-free coupon I wanted to take advantage of but if I did, I wouldn’t have anything to contribute to Obama For America. So, I did the conscionable thing and donated five dollars. The very next minute, I got an email from Prez Obama asking: Ssal, thank you for your generous donation of Five Dollars, but we still need your help! Can you help with the campaign by making some phone calls? Why, yes, Mr. President, I can!

So, I hopped into my car with some buddies and headed over to Sin City in the great Swing State of Nevada. Some of them were already there, dutifully making phone calls and urging people to vote! Regrettably, I did not have much time to help with the campaign, but it was great fun! So many people hung up on me, yelled at me for bothering them with phone calls night and day for months (sorry, this is my first time calling, Mr. Hinks), and a few thanked me for my service (makes it all worthwhile!).

The Democratic headquarters in Las Vegas was smaller than I had imagined but evidently much bigger than the Republican base. According to my friend, the Democratic office was organized to my tastes, cluttery and haphazard. However, if you read the news, the Democratic Party was super-organized compared to the Repubs. So, I flicked away a used piece of Kleenex tissue (ew) crumpled on the desk at which I was assigned, grabbed a soda, and went to work.

The list I was given were the dregs of the potential Dem voters. That is, the high probability voters had already been contacted (half a dozen times) and we were scraping the barrel bottom for every last vote! Some of them must have recognized my vote because as soon as they picked up the phone and before I could greet them with “Hello, my name is Ssal with the…” click. Somebody made some monster noises on the other line, so I called back just to be sure (of what, I don’t know), and sure enough, he made the same monster noises and quickly hung up on me.

But it was for the cause, and I called through almost a dozen sheets of names and numbers, marking each one per the party’s directions, indicating if I made a real human “contact” or not. If I spoke to someone who was a relative and assured me that the person I was trying to reach had already voted, that still did NOT count. Can’t trust ‘em. Gotta’ talk to the man himself. The only way to have an accurate vote count. (That’s why Romney or many in Romney’s party thought he was going to win on election day. Go figure.)

After taking a pizza break, I started dialing again. Yikes, I got a rush job that I didn’t really want because these few days were supposed to be devoted to campaigning. Unfortunately, it was a big job and I couldn’t turn down the paycheck, so I finished up with some more campaigning until close to 9 p.m. (can’t call people past their bedtime anyway) and headed off to Starbucks to download some info to start my ill-timed project and worked until the wee hours of the morning.

Election day! We headed back to the office to make more phone calls; by the afternoon, it was more crucial to give rides to the polls. I was assigned a phone in an administrator’s office (that sounds grander than it is), so in between making phone calls, I kept getting phone calls. I was directed not to answer them, so avoided them, but once when I picked up the receiver to make a phone call, after dialing, I hear not ringing tone but instead get: Hello, I need a ride to vote. Bingo! I always wanted to get voters to the polls and help the disenfranchised! Actually, these people were not disenfranchised, only did not have a car and they were too old and sick to walk or ride the bus to their polling place.

The first person we picked up was a Vet. Bum knee still in a cast. Thanks for your service, dude. It’s sad that these people don’t have anyone nearby to help them to the polls, (other than the Democratic Party, of course of course!). Disabled people often get isolated, so we cheerily drove him to the elementary school that was his voting location and walked him in to vote! My first ride getting people to the polls! So exciting! If you want to do something really worthwhile in life, say, in contrast to going shopping on Black Friday, this is the thing to do! I almost cried walking Dave the Vet back to the car and helping him out of the car when we reached his home. He had a cat that missed him and that was all. Waiting for him to enter his house safely, we headed back to the office to pick up another voter who wanted to practice his right to vote!

The next person was in tears. She had been waiting for hours because no one wanted to pick her up. The address information this lady gave was not showing up precisely on Google Maps. Sometimes people don’t give us the correct info or something is lost in translation when speaking over the phone. Either way, all our drivers were busy ferrying other folks to the polls, so I volunteered to find this lady. I didn’t know that her residence was not in the best part of town, the part that people avoid after dark.

Undaunted, a friend and I went out in search of her place, like the knight in Edgar Allen Poe’s “El Dorado” (that’s why I write poems like Poe--see other pages and posts--, love his work). By the time we finally found her apartment, she had just been picked up by some other volunteers, good for them! Except I wish things had been a bit more coordinated because we spent almost an hour looking for her while a few other people were waiting.

Finally, we picked up a voter who ten minutes before the polls closed. He had MS and could not drive to his polling place. Agh! Fate was not kind for he typed in the incorrect address into his phone and we ended up circling the area before we finally found his polling place. They were packing up! Poor fella’ he had never missed a voting day in his life. What would his mother say, he asked? At least he tried, we consoled him. Because every vote does count. . .

By the time we dropped him off, everyone was heading to the Mandalay Bay. The Republicans were gathering at the Venetian, owned by Billionaire Akin who pledged up to 200 million to making Obama a one-term president (aren’t there better reasons to campaign? Like campaigning FOR someone because you believe in their principles instead of AGAINST someone because you don’t like them? I can imagine if the person was very hateful, like Hitler, but really, guys). I didn’t even think of bringing a nice outfit, so made do with a lavender skirt and lavender sweater (really, I was a bit too purple-pink that night) and a pair of boots. Was going to wear my coat because I get cold easily when one of my friends reminded me that it was almost 70 degrees outside.

Walking from the parking garage of the Mandalay Bay to the North Convention Hall ballroom, you could feel the excitement. People were laughing and wearing Obama signs. I had checked my phone on the way to the Mandalay and the reports showed Obama breaking away in Ohio. By the time we got a blue wristband to enter the ballroom, the jumbo screens showed CNN, ABC, and CBS calling Ohio for Obama with 280 electoral votes, the crowd broke into deafening cheers, all over the country, I suspect. (Fox was a little behind the curve with this one, as you might have seen, tee hee. Carl Rove was stuttering his protest about how Ohio could still be won, tee hee.)

We waited for the speeches but unfortunately, Romney’s concession speech was interrupted by a local who had just won and was giving his acceptance speech in the ballroom, which was being broadcast live. At least we saw Obama’s speech, which was thrilling for the crowd. Someone raised their iPad to record the jumbo screen. That was one of the nights when you really felt that “God’s in his heaven, All’s right with the world.”

Talk about a high that you didn’t want to end.

You mean no more polls? Where do I get my morning fix of election polls and stories? I bookmarked the 538 Blog, CNN’s polling center, Real Clear Politics all on my Bookmarks tab. They replaced all my other important tabs, such as you know, Macy’s and wow, I can’t even remember what I used to have bookmarked. For me for months, there was nothing BUT the election. What do I do now?

We were smiling through and through for days, beaming our smiles right from our hearts.

If you read all the post-election analysis, the consensus of why Obama won is pretty simple: It’s the ground game baby. But this runs a bit deeper. When the Supreme Court decided the election ion 2000, I and so many others were indignant, downright fuming! I had followed the Gore-Bush election avidly as well, but for some reason, knowing that it was close, didn’t prompt me to help with the campaign. Maybe it was Gore, good but not inspiring.

With Obama, you just feel the love. So when pundits say that Obama won because of  super-sophisticated ground-game of unprecedented numbers, they’re right. People like me traveled from all over the country, “flew in for 10 days” one man we met in the elevator of the Mandalay Bay because “he would die” if Obama lost. That’s the kind of people Obama inspired. The just left their jobs, took vacation days, traveled to Swing states, and made phone calls, registered voters, anything for The Cause. No one but Obamaman could inspire such love.

Too bad that higher-than-a-kit feeling had to end. But the steady serenity we feel now is a pretty good substitute.

Four more years! Yay! 

Which of course inspired me to write an Inaugural Poem for Obama #44 (try to guess where I sneak in the #44 in my poem! The answer is (will be in the Crib Notes explaining the poem!) Check out Other Inaugural Poems from great poets like Robert Frost for J.F.K. and Maya Angelou for  B.O., yeah!


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MY OTHER WRITINGS

What I Said When I saw Salvador Dali's Metamorphosis of Narcissus at the Tate Modern 

Princess Boo Wakes Up on theWrong Side of the Bed


Thursday, November 29, 2012

The Sectarian Part III: Story of a (Somewhat) Lovable Religigo



BUYING SKIN WHITENER

INT. DRUGSTORE   DAY

LAKE (V.O.)
But it wasn't only her dress and speech that Luzy-Ann strived to conform to local standards, it was her look as well.

Luzy-Ann is browsing around a drugstore.  She picks up a bottle of lotion labeled, "Skin Brightener: Works on all skin types."

CLERK
May I help you? 

LUZY-ANN
Uh, yes. 

I see you've found our new skin-enhancing product.

LUZY-ANN
Yes, I have.  I'm--intrigued.  How does it work?

CLERK
(secretively)
It has black licorice in it.

LUZY-ANN
(grateful for the insight)
Oh--black licorice!  Really!

CLERK
(rubs some on her hand)
See how nice it rubs on.  You only have to use it every time you go out.

LUZY-ANN
Kind of like SPF.

CLERK
Well, yes, as a matter of fact, it has that too.  Lots of it.  Let's see, it says here on the bottle: SPF 25.  That should be enough for you--Oh!

LUZY-ANN
That's all right, I understand.

The Clerk hands the bottle to Luzy-Ann to help another customer.  Luzy-Ann continues reading the bottle.  She decides to purchase it and takes it to the checkout counter.  

CLERK
I'm sure you'll love it.  We've had some colored folks come in and buy it.  Since you're lighter (magnanimously), well of course, it should work even better on you.

LUZY-ANN
One can only hope.

The Clerk smiles and places the whitening lotion in a bag. 

CLERK
Thank you Luzy-Ann and come again now.  Let me know how it works.  I bet I won't even be able to recognize you when you come back.  You know what I mean.

They both laugh.

LAKE (V.O.)
My sister understood so well, that she not only did she take great pains to "whiten" her skin, change her dress and speech, but alter the workings of her natural mind as well.


INT. BEDROOM   DAY

Luzy-Ann dons gloves and hat and preens herself in the mirror.

LAKE (V.O.)
It all coincided so well with her efforts to appear a lady.


SUNDAY SCHOOL

INT.  CLASSROOM   MORNING

LAKE (V.O.)
Therefore, my sister excelled in Sunday school, which I did not.  Subjects about sex were particularly disturbing to my sister.  We were talking about the roles that chastity played in so much of the Catholic dogma one day. 

NUN MARGARITA is standing in front of the class.  She is teaching Sunday school where Luzy-Ann and Lake go. 

A boy named GERALD raises his hand to ask a question. 

GERALD
Why is contraception not allowed?  It's not like it's abortion or anything.  You're not killing anything because there's no conception.

NUN MARGARITA
Because the union between a man and a woman is holy and it is sinful to interfere with God's will.

GERALD
But what if you weren't going to get pregnant anyway?  Where's the interference?

NUN MARGARITA
Since we don't know that ahead of time, it is against the natural will of holy matrimony.

GERALD
I don't buy it.

NUN MARGARITA
Well, it is taught by the Church and the Pope himself. 

GERALD
The Pope!  But if you no play the game, you no make the rules. 

Nun Margarita blushes.  Lake laughs and raises her hand.

NUN MARGARITA
(grateful for the diversion)
Yes, Lake?

LAKE
Why can't girls be priests?

NUN MARGARITA
Well, because the church doesn't allow it. 

LAKE
Why don’t they allow it?

NUN MARGARITA
Because that was the way Saint Peter set up the church. 

LAKE
You mean he wanted only men leading the church?  Why, because they're better?

NUN MARGARITA
One should not assume to be able to divine the purpose of God.

LAKE
Saint Peter did.  Doesn't it strike you as fishy that a man set up a church ruled by men?  If women can vote now, why can't they be priests?  Black men can become priests, can't they?

Nun Margarita looks visibly uncomfortable.

LUZY-ANN
(hisses)
Lake!  Quit it!

LAKE
(not deterred)
Why do some who touch a holy person or saint get well, but some don't?  Why don't they all get well if the person's really holy? 

NUN MARGARITA
Miracles cannot be explained.  We should just be happy that some happen. 

LAKE
But they all believed because they came to be healed.  Don't people who don't come get healed anyway?  So you can not (emphasis) believe and still get healed? 

Gerald laughs audibly as do some other students.

LAKE
(continuing)
Has anyone done a study on whether the believers who touched a holy person got cured a higher percentage than the believers who were lazy and stayed at home?  and did both of those categories of believers heal miraculously at a rate higher than nonbelievers in general?

The class laughs.  LUZY-ANN glares at Lake.  Lake whispers to Gerald.  He raises his hand. 

GERALD
When two countries are going to war, and they both pray against each other, who wins?  The better side or does it depend on god's mysterious ways again?  If that's so, why pray at all? 


INT.  PRESBYTARIAN/EPISCOPALIAN?? CHURCH   DAY

LAKE (V.O.)
Despite Luzy-Ann's obedience, secretly, my sister was yearning to exercise her oldest sibling syndrome.

Luzy-Ann is sitting in a pew, arms on the back of a pew, her chin on her hands.  She watches longingly, a female deacon preaching in the pulpit.

LAKE (V.O.)
But my sister found that this forbidden fruit was just another way to practice her humility.

Luzy-Ann sighs.


WATCHING THE PRIESTS

INT. CHURCH   DAY


LAKE (V.O.)
Not being able to be a priest was not the only forbidden fruit that my sister enjoyed being denied.

While she is walking down a staircase, Luzy-Ann is watching two priests talking together; she has the hots for priests. 

Not paying attention to where she is going, she trips down the stairs.

LUZY-ANN
Whoah!


NO DATES FOR LUZY-ANN, NO DATES FOR ANYONE

EXT. OUTDOOR EATERY   DAY

Luzy-Ann is in the center of a group.  She and some friends are having a snack outside.  They are seated at a table.

LAKE (V.O.)
My sister studied the way the townsfolk talked and wagged their tongues.  Soon, there was no one better than my sister for spreading the news.  She learned well that offense was the only defense. 

GOSSIPER
I heard that she not only snuck out at eleven, but that she didn't come back until four in the morning. 

LUZY-ANN
Four!  Did her parents find out?

GOSSIPER
Not yet, though I don't know how they couldn't.  Everybody knows about it and frankly, I feel sorry for the poor dears.  I mean, if my daughter stayed out all night and got drunk and nobody knows what she did all night except--
(whispers to the girls)

Mary-Ann and Luzy-Ann laugh. 

LAKE (V.O.)
My sister had the loud tittering laugh of so many females who were socially behind, that is to say, unmarried and so did not understand the nature of many jokes that one knows about from being in the know, knowing someone, that is. 

Bobby-Lee and his friend walk by the group of girls.

BOBBY-LEE
Hey, LUZY-ANN, looking good.

Luzy-Ann ignores Bobby-Lee.

BOBBY-LEE
Hey, you still sore about the second grade?  Didn't you know, I picked on you because I liked you?  That's what all the guys did in that grade.  How else we supposed to talk to a girl?

Luzy-Ann looks dubious, but not at him.  

BOBBY-LEE
I mean, you were always the prettiest girl in school.

MARY-ANN
Are you going to the dance Saturday?

BOBBY-LEE
Depends, you going Luzy-Ann?

LUZY-ANN
Maybe.

BOBBY-LEE
Sure to there then.  See you girls.

The boys walk away.


PRAYING FOR A MAN

INT. CHURCH   DAY

Luzy-Ann is kneeling at a pew in church.  She is praying fervently.

LUZY-ANN
Dear lord, I love you and am your humble servant.  Please help me find a loving man, who will do your will and follow your way.

LAKE (V.O.)
It was not that she used praying as a means to try to get what she wanted that was so like her, it was the fact that she didn't recognize that she was getting less particular the older she got, so that her increase in the number of times a man asked her out per annum, was owing to her more flexible standards more so than divine intervention.  Of course, this would be devoutly denied by her and all such old maidens.  Yet, who knew, maybe god did counsel her to be more tolerant? 


INT.  DANCE HALL  EVENING

A geeky guy, GEORGE, talking to Luzy-Ann at a dance.  She is not interested.  Luzy-Ann ignores him and focuses her attention on JANIE. 

LAKE (V.O.)
It was this lack of action that left a void in my sister's life, and even with the superfluous amount of praying that she did, she still found time to inquire into other people's lives.  She had a great authoritative look, that she used to disapprove of people.  I think it was the same one that her teacher, the one who punished her for beating up Bobby-Lee and Billy-Joe, used on her.  This look was always given in the strictest moral situations, or as her look would suggest, in immoral cases where fun was to be strictly prohibited, particularly if my sister could not share in it. 

JANIE
(breathlessly and expansively) 
We're going to the lake tonight.  It's gonna' be so romantic.  He's been talking about buying the old Homer place.  I think he's going to pop the question soon.
(almost squealing)

LUZY-ANN
(manipulatively)
Are you sure you should be going?

JANIE
What do you mean?

LUZY-ANN
(slowly)
I mean, the lake is a make-out spot.  Are you sure you want to be seen there?  Tales run fast in this town.  Before you know it, he won't pop any question if your reputation has been compromised, even when he was the cause of it! 

GEORGE
Uh, huh.  I agree with Luzy-Ann.

Janie looks distressed.  Luzy-Ann spies Father Denton with Nun Margarita and waves enthusiastically.  He comes over to talk to them.  Nun Margarita talks to some other parishioners.

FATHER DENTON
Good evening ladies.  Good evening, George.

LUZY-ANN
Excited
Good evening, Father.

Janie and George greet Father Denton.

FATHER DENTON
I see you're not dancing.  That's what a dance is for.  How about it George?  Why don't you sweep one of these fine ladies off her feet?

GEORGE
(laughing bashfully)
Would you do me the honor, Luzy-Ann?

LUZY-ANN
(unenthusiastically)
Love to, George.

George offers his arm to Luzy-Ann.  She takes it and they walk to the dance floor.

LAKE (V.O.)
Although my sister preached abstinence, somehow, George "I'm saving myself for marriage" didn't quite fit into her idea of a husband she could obey and submit herself to.

On the dance floor, George and Luzy-Ann pass Bobby-Lee and a flashy female he is dancing with.

BOBBY-LEE
Hi, Luzy-Ann!

But he makes not mention of a dance later.  Luzy-Ann despairs of her situation with George.

FATHER DENTON
Now there's a nice young couple.

Janie giggles.


CONFESSION: IMPURE THOUGHTS

The Sectarian: Story of a Somewhat Lovable Religigo - Synopsis (Super-Short Summary)


And here's my synopsis for the SECTARIAN: Story of a Somewhat Lovable Religigo

If you go deep enough into some places in this country, you find a whole different attitude.  Call it a mindset, or a way of life that’s so unbending, it’s almost religious.  That’s how some minorities might feel, traveling from the west coast to the deep south.   That’s how Luzy-Ann felt at first, growing up the only Asian in a small southern town, adopted from Vietnam, or some country from the Orient.  Her parents: flower children, Brent and Violet, were told they could not have children, but after adopting Luzy-Ann, “Luz” for short, Brent and Violet had a biological child, named Lake.

Discriminated against, picked on by the prejudiced children and parents of the neighborhood, frightened, made to feel “yellow”, left out if she would not fit in, morbidly exacerbating her “yellowness”, Luzy-Ann squeezes herself into the southern mold: church-going, god-fearing, clinging to the white ideal, placating the matrons of the local church until she is as sectarian as if she were a real white person. 


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Luzy-Ann and Lake both grew up in a small southern town.  No big deal.  They were the daughters of flower children Brent and Violet, who moved from California to Mississippi to care for Violet’s sick, aging Aunt Tatem.  Luzy-Ann was older and adopted from Vietnam.  Lake was younger and the real, biological child.  The real child because she really was similar to her parents, free spirited and autonomous.  Luzy-Ann, crushingly out-of-place in the Bible-belt mindset of the south, squeezed herself into a white mold that was so pristine, her “yellowness” shone through all the more garishly.  Here is the story of two sisters, whose ties ended with their last name but whose love for each other remained the same. 

When the playground bullies picked on Luzy-Ann and knocked the books out of her hand, she fought back, and was punished by the teacher.  When the church-wives commented on her yellow skin, she donned gloves and wide-brim hats, and even bought some “brightening” lotion (a.k.a. “whitening” lotion).  None of this advanced her much in the eyes of the wicked-tongue matrons of that pious town, until she figured in a vague way that she could only gain acceptance by beating them in their own devotion.  To god.  Values.  And small-town smugness. 

(In short, she becomes so sectarian )

Treatment (Summary): the SECTARIAN; the Story of a Lovable Religious Bigot

I found the treatment summary that I wrote for this screenplay/short story a long time ago. Saves me the trouble of rewriting it:


Luzy-Ann and Lake both grew up in a small southern town.  No big deal.  They were the daughters of flower children Brent and Violet, who moved from California to Mississippi to care for Violet’s sick, aging Aunt Tatem.  Luzy-Ann was older and adopted from Vietnam.  Lake was younger and the real, biological child.  The real child because she really was similar to her parents, free spirited and autonomous.  Luzy-Ann, crushingly out-of-place in the Bible-belt mindset of the south, squeezed herself into a white mold that was so pristine, her “yellowness” shone through all the more garishly.  Here is the story of two sisters, whose ties ended with their last name but whose love for each other remained the same. 

When the playground bullies picked on Luzy-Ann and knocked the books out of her hand, she fought back, and was punished by the teacher.  When the church-wives commented on her yellow skin, she donned gloves and wide-brim hats, and even bought some “brightening” lotion (a.k.a. “whitening” lotion).  None of this advanced her much in the eyes of the wicked-tongue matrons of that pious town, until she figured in a vague way that she could only gain acceptance by beating them in their own devotion.  To god.  Values.  And small-town smugness.

By the time Luzy-Ann and Lake are in high school,  Aunt Tatem is still dying by inches, energized by Luzy-Ann’s remarkable transformation into what she deems is a real southern girl.  But Luzy-Ann did not achieve her remarkable paradigm of church-goer come gossip without a cost.  Learning to ignore the bigoted snips of the townsfolk, she ignores the exhortations of her own family.  When she plans to organize an abortion protest in the same public park as a group of White Supremecists, her parents forbid her to go.  How the skinhead was able to persuade Luzy-Ann to that right-to-lifers were not much different than racists you’ll just have to read the screenplay to find out.  Yet not surprisingly, Luzy-Ann sneaks off and attends the demonstrations at the park.  Demonstration singular, for there wasn’t much of a party representing the pro-lifers, not surprisingly enough. 

When Luzy-Ann’s parents discover she is gone, they race after her.   At the park, Brent demands Luzy-Ann come home with him.  When she refuses, and Brent literally drags Luzy-Ann away, a skinhead steps in to fight for her “rights”.  A riot ensues, and Violet is hurt and killed.  Brent dies soon after.  And Luzy-Ann falls ill with bronchitis that lingers. 

Aunt Tatem dies when Luzy-Ann reaches the age of majority and she takes on the duty of raising Lake.  But with no experience behind her overwhelming sense of religious duty, and because Luzy-Ann had few to asymptotically approaching zero dates of her own, she hung around when Lake got ready for her frequent dates.  Once while Lake is getting ready for a date, Luzy-Ann discovers a tampon wrapper in the wastebasket.  She demands that Lake “take it out”.  Exasperated, incredulous, not really serious or she would have thought about it, Lake tells her goads/dares Luzy-Ann to take it out herself.  For a child who suffered the bigotry of a white small town, this was a nothing challenge to Luzy-Ann.  She tackles Lake just as her date arrives at the front door.  In six and three-quarter hours, the whole/entire town knows about the X sisters girl-on-girl action.  And for once, Luzy-Ann had more calls for dates than she could confess in one session to a Father X.

It does not help that Lake is the normal rebellious teenager, and Luzy-Ann does her best to teach and punish her.  When Lake is arrested for joyriding with a bunch of boys, Luzy-Ann comes to the jail, but decides to leave Lake there and think about what people will say when they find out that she’s been cavorting with boys.  So Lake finds out the non-limit to which Luzy-Ann will sell her out in the name of Christian values, and moves to California because she is afraid that “when they come to take me, you’ll not only let them in, but you’ll open the door in welcome…For the good of my soul, of course.”

Luzy-Ann eventually marries; a few years later her husband Stan, unceremoniously divorces her--even though Luzy-Ann tells him he cannot since they’re Catholic.  Her life in this town all but gone and her lungs deteriorating, Luzy-Ann finds that she has won the lottery, a tradition she plays whenever the pot gets over three million.  Because her cat Butterfly cannot tolerate traveling, she leaves her with a pet store who will find a home for Butterfly.  At the same moment, a boy with his puppy walks by.  The puppy chases Butterfly down and across the street and up a tree, but the puppy gets hit with a car while racing across the street.  Distraught and inconsolable, the boy asks if he will see his dog in heaven.  Luzy-Ann decides to set him straight, informing him that dogs have no souls and therefore cannot go to heaven. 

She sells the house, says good-bye to her handsome priest wistfully, buys a relic for protection on the road (Saint ______ for those of you who are interested), and surprises Lake when she shows up unannounced at Lake’s doorstep. 

Living together once again, nothing is changed except the backdrop.  But Luzy-Ann has passed her formative years and the only thing that the climate of Southern California can do for her is incite her sneering, sectarian ways.  She offers the relic to Lake, who questions its authenticity and demands that any redecorating, i.e., pinning crucifixes to the wall and altars in the living room be removed.  They don’t embarrass Lake, she just doesn’t need it, and neither do her friends, who are fascinated by Luzy-Ann almost like an iridescent insect under a microscope: small but flaming.  On her side, Luzy-Ann develops a crush on one of Lake’s male friends, not ____, the gay one, but ______.  He goes out with Luzy-Ann twice because he is amused and wants to find out if she is the real thing.  She is: with the false eyelashes, the demur puff-sleeved dresses, the matching hat and gloves, the wrap skirt that she wears at the beach on her date with ____. 

At the beach, X finally gets her to relax and even snakes in a kiss.  In her languid, unguarded moment, Luzy-Ann muses/reveries why should could not be a good priest-ess.  She’s read the Bible and has a lot to say about the gospel.  When X brings her to a charismatic church one fine Sunday, Luzy-Ann gets into the spirit but still, she has to attend a Catholic mass for it to count.  X finds out, like her former husband Stan, that she really is the tight-arsed old maid she lets on to be. 

While Luzy-Ann panicked about the few dates with X, she still had time to butt into Lake’s date: yes, he’s practicing, Lake informs Luzy-Ann, he just happens to be a dred-locked Middle-Eastern practicing Buddhist.  Yes, Lake scoured everywhere to bring him home, purpose for Luzy-Ann.  But when Luzy-Ann will not stop harping on him, Lake tells her to move out, with her lottery winnings, she can afford it. 

Lake calls Stan.  He comes to California and see

But the Southern California weather must have seeped skin deep into Luzy-Ann’s unnaturally pale skin.  She went shopping with lake and friends along an outdoor mall.  Part of the road had some construction work going on.  A construction worker was working shirtless in the hot sun.  Lake looked, X looked, and even Luzy-Ann gave a long glance when they dared her to.  A few weeks later, when Luzy-Ann is out shopping, she sees X and a girl.  Jumping out of her conservative self, she invites X over to see her new place.  X declines and when Luzy-Ann realizes that he does not want to go out on a third date, she protests “but you kissed me.”

Stricken, with her cough getting worse, Luzy-Ann attends an abortion protest at the Planned Parenthood where Lake works.  There, she meets Greg, a fanatical Christian who appears, acts overexcited at this particular rally, for some reason.  Luzy-Ann also spots Y walking into the clinic.  Y visits Lake for a consultation and leaves.  Luzy-Ann, busy-bodying in, approaches Y, and offers Y money to keep the child.  That way X can keep writing while helping Y raise their baby.  When Luzy-Ann returns to the fray, Greg is wide-eyed and glassy in anticipation.  From his ranting, Luzy-Ann believes that he has set a bomb in the clinic, but Greg will not tell her anything because he knows her sister is inside.  Torn between her moral fervor and an act of disloyalty to the cause and the safety of her sister and others inside, Luzy-Ann approaches the building with dread and a self-created thinly disbelief.  The security guard grabs her, spurning her into action.  She finds her sister and tells her that she thinks a bomb is inside.  Not wanting to panic their clients, Lake and a nurse rapidly evacuate the clinic, but not before Lake gets caught in the explosion. 

Lake gets better, but Luzy-Ann does not.  Yet she has made leaps and bounds.  When she runs into a little boy whose old dog has died, she does tell him that all good dogs go to heaven.  She also returns to the shopping strip where the construction worker is still shirtless and digging in the hot sun.  Herself, hatless with a skin revealing dress, Luzy-Ann pretends she is lost and asks for directions.  This leads to her inviting him to a drink at the bar.  When she leaves, Luzy-Ann steps backward into some wet cement.  The construction worker laughs and worries over her while he cleans her off; Luzy-Ann says that she can’t help but look up (emphasize this in screenplay). 

Sometime later, Lake wakes her young son for Sunday Mass, in memory of her sister who ___, but never stopped trying.