"RICH PEOPLE HAVE RIGHTS TOO!"

RICH PEOPLE HAVE RIGHTS TOO!

I swear there are more doctors than golf courses here; Hospital this, Medical that, Rehab for this and that; the street names read like a Who’s Who in right wing celebrity politics. Gerald Ford Drive, Frank Sinatra Drive, Gene Autry, Bob Hope. I’m not sure it’s legal to even turn left.

“I’ve been through the desert on a horse with no name….” (Sing along if you remember the tune.)

Bob Hope, old ski nose. Considered funny, lauded for entertaining the troops, a supporter of the politics of empire that brought us the Vietnam War. I wanted the troops to be brought home. He wanted to cheer them up before they went back into battle. For that he has been much honored.

 My parents were friends of the Hopes. I remember Dolores as being genuinely gracious. Bob I remember for being at the Academy Awards, when “Broken Rainbow,” a film Maria Florio and I made about Navajos facing relocation, was up for “Best Documentary Feature.” We’d brought two Navajo elders with us to the Awards ceremony. They who had almost never been off the reservation, whose English was limited, recognized Bob Hope in the crowd. He was the only face they knew and they asked if they could meet him.  I approached Mr. Hope, mentioned my parents’ names, and indicated my guests. He looked them up and down, at their velvet blouses, turquoise necklaces, cotton skirts and moccasins. Where I saw indigenous integrity, he saw ethnic poverty; he put his famous nose up in the air and walked away. They were crestfallen. I was embarrassed.

We won the Oscar, and when one of the elders joined us up on the stage and said “Thank you for helping my people,” there was, I swear, an audible gasp from the audience. She had spoken from a depth of soul that most people had never heard.

The film was about corporate America’s disregard for the rights of indigenous people, about relocating traditional Navajo to make way for coal mining. No congratulatory note arrived from Bob.

Driving down Bob Hope Drive to get to the rally and demonstration against a secret meeting of the Koch brothers and their mega-rich supporters, it makes me feel physically sick to see the deification of people unworthy of honor. The myth- makers clearly know what they’re doing, and that people, in general, have no clue as to what these mischief-makers were up to. Look at the deification of Ronald Reagan- does anyone remember what he actually did?

“I’ve been through the desert on a horse with no name. It was good to be out of the rain….. In the desert you can’t remember your name…Unless the street signs remind you, and your name is Autry, Sinatra or Hope.

It’s raining in LA today.

Here in  Rancho Mirage, it is a beautiful morning, but flashing blue lights on police cruisers are already signifying that something is happening. Police are assembling, preparing to protect the Koch Brothers and their invited guests from demonstrators soon to assemble. Sharp shooters are taking up positions on the roofs, reminding me that we are in the parking lot of a shopping mall, reminding me of recent gun horror in Tucson.

This demonstration is organized by “Common Cause” and “Code Pink” and other groups determined that our democracy will not be bought and sold without protest. The Supreme Court, with its conservative majority, has just ruled that unlimited and undisclosed corporate (and union) funds can go into political campaigns, that corporations are PEOPLE, just exercising their free speech. The implications are staggering.

Justices Scalia and Thomas have attended such meetings. Eric Kantor is at this one. If Bob had lived to see this day, he would have hopped in his golf cart (accompanied by his doctor, no doubt), and puttered on down to join them.

The Koch brothers have given millions of dollars to elect candidates who would gut the EPA, and dismantle the Clean Water Act. Hiding behind Constitutional Rights and Putting America Back to Work, their money and strategy is directed at removing any hindrance to profit, environmental and health consequences be damned. But, as the LA Times editorialized, “Rich People Have Rights Too.”  Don’t we know!

“Our Democracy is Not for Sale,” scream the signs we carry.

(The demonstration and the Koch brothers’ secret meeting has been well documented.  Please look to Alternet, ReaderSupportedNews, and other progressive sources for detailed discussion.)

The desert was a sparkling jewel as the afternoon progressed. Leaving the protestors, I headed for Palm Canyon to pay my respects to the Cahuilla people, the first occupants of this magically beautiful land, who were here long before the restaurants, shopping malls, spas and casinos, before the Lexus and Bentley dealerships. Before the pavement.

 The early people and their descendants have warned us not to take the earth and its bounty for granted. May their words be heard, may greed diminish, and Common sense prevail.

Prayers offered, my eyes reflecting the jewels I have witnessed, of water and rock and palm, I head back up Bob Hope, turning right, inevitably, on Country Club Drive, in search of my favorite golf course. I turn left, at last, onto Desert Willow.  This day is almost too beautiful to bear, and I’m just in time for a ‘twilight’ round.