the sky set softly on the end of the day. it was chilly on the patio, though still. any wind off the lake had eased up. it had been a day.
we attended the hands-off protest here in our town. i had some trepidation before we left to go. still too close in memory are the riots from 2020. still too close are the screaming-loud trucks-with-flags driving around our neighborhood before the election. still too close is the distorted reality that we witness from people who voted for all this destruction, chasms of morality difference. still too obvious is the hyped-up aggression we are witnessing every day. too much to bear is the annihilation of civil rights, impartial justice, checks and balances based on the rule of law. trepidation seems appropriate.
but the protest was inspiring. heartening. people – regular folks – rising up for the rights and freedoms of our constitution, speaking up for our democracy.
the footage around the country – big cities and small towns all – of people – neighbors and friends and strangers – all standing together to clutch onto every filament of this republic.
and i wondered, “what now?”
for fighting fascism from this side of the election seems much more onerous than from the other side – before the election – when people needed to completely grok the far-reaching impact of their very important vote.
we have an arduous journey in front of us. and i know so many of us are already exhausted.
the sun was getting lower in the sky and was shining through the marsh as we walked past. we hadn’t hiked a long distance that day – only about five miles or so – but we had started late and it was time to mosey home and think about making dinner.
the shadows on the path ahead made me grab my camera to capture a picture. cattails.
their shadows so clear it left little doubt as to what they were, the cattails punctuated the gravel as the end of the trail led up to the trailhead. patterns across the path were spaced like college-ruled spiral notebooks or full and half rests scribed on staff paper.
throughout our hike i kept drawing attention to our shadows on this beautiful blue-sky-sunny day. they changed from a short-stumpy pair of people to two elongated-legged tall people. in every moment, clearly – people. those two people were us, but – were those shadows stamped in time – you could only tell that we were people. nothing more.
what will the shadows of this time look like, later on down the road? when the sun has completely set on a day when the values of this country are no longer upheld, how will those shadows appear? will they show the truth of all this malfeasance? what does corruption look like in a shadow? what do greedy, evil, soulless humans (and i use the term ‘humans’ loosely) look like in their shadows? can you tell they are greedy, evil, soulless?
there is no way to tell – by looking at the shadows of these cattails – the state of their inner being, the truth of the cattail. should we really wish to know we must be careful to discern their health or dis-ease by examining them more closely. we must be willing to know more about cattails and measure their well-being by applying this knowledge. we cannot simply look at their shadows – and not look at them, their environment and their impact on that environment – to determine their vigor, their fitness, their soundness, their dedicated synergy with the rest. the shadows don’t tell the story of stagnant water, dying ponds or an over-abundance of cattails toxically crowding out ecosystems, the risk of flooding or being a prime pest habitat, a dangerous breeding ground of illness.
we must be willing to look at the cattails for what they are, what they represent, how they are sharing space. we must be willing to discern their true impact – good or bad. we must look at the cattails themselves and not their shadowy shadows. anything less could kill the marsh and forever pollute the pond.
because every day brings another round of chaos, we will dedicate this week’s smack-dab to the insanity of tariffs. because our country definitely needs more corruption at this point. because our country needs to be isolationist, self-serving, narcissistic, powermongering. because our country needs the rich to be richer and the poor to be much, much poorer. because this administration is extorting the hell out of anyone and everyone – and getting away with it. because this is a time of gross incompetence and evil.
because we – personally – have so many things of value – big value, big-big-value-you’d-be-amazed-at-how-much-value – it occurs to me that if everything will cost significantly more, than – following the thread of insanity – everything we already have is worth significantly more. voila!
so let’s do a little inventory. because these tariffs “aren’t supposed to affect us” mere mortals. let’s twist that a bit (because twisting things seems to be in vogue). let’s apply these taaaariffs to the stuff we already have – so we can inflate our own [perceived] value in this time of warped economic instability. the ridiculous begets more ridiculous.
take our vehicles, starting with our brand-newest.
that makes littlebabyscion’s 2006-280,000 miles value rise a dramatic 25% based on the announced auto tariff. or – it makes littlebabyscion’s value rise 24% – if you base it on the fact that it is a japanese automobile, a toyota. either way, the real news is – drumroll – that any percentage of zero is zero.
well, that should be enough examples.
because it seems like this administration wishes to poor-us-down (in addition to dumb-us-down and bigot-us-up and extort-us-all) we will just sit here and hold onto LBS. a 25% tariff on new automobiles makes a new automobile for us – mere mortals – absolutely impossible. especially when we don’t know what we don’t know – about the coming days of healthcare and medicare and social security and student loans and interest rates and banking security and the price of a can of diced tomatoes or black beans. not to mention the fallout of ignoring climate change and spreading disease and decreasing water supply and the annihilation of civil rights.
it’s exhausting. i wonder if these people stay up at night trying to think up all the cruelest things they can do to us – the populace – the mere mortals – as well as everyone else – around the world – sans those in their chaos-club. but i know better. all this was pre-written in the project playbook and those in the bully–club are just gleefully following the plays.
if thinking this is all ok is what it takes to be in that club – or on the red bandwagon – or in the unforgivable cheering squad on the sidelines – then i’m glad i’m not in the club.
it’s empty of heart, void of soul and full of sadistic insanity.
i’m not sure why no one early in my life mentioned to me that thru-hiking the appalachian trail or the pacific crest trail – or any long trail for that matter – was a possibility. sans internet or social informant i feel like i totally missed this information and – more so – this opportunity. neither of my parents were hikers and long island wasn’t really a granola outdoorsy hiking kind of place. my spare time was spent at the water, on the water, in the water – the sound and the ocean were the guiding lights there. but what you don’t know you don’t know.
so now, here we are – in our sixties – both pretty enamored of the idea of thru-hiking. consequently, we watch the videos of many, many hikers – as you know – studying their gear and their processes, their fortitude and their bliss, their bag-meals and their tiny stoves and – for me, especially – their water filtering systems and photography methods.
one of my favorite field trips is to REI. though we are clear – and, probably, ridiculously obvious – in our lack of knowledge about likely ninety percent of the items there, we love wandering and dreaming, pondering aloud the merits of each piece of gear we see. we linger near the coffee systems and the sleeping pads, knowing that both coffee and sleeping would be paramount.
and over by the EAT sign at the store are the most amazing bag-meals – of every sort. so many options, though pricey, they eliminate our fantasy of some chef bamboo-picnic-basket-droning in our evening dinner with a tiny box of wine and wine glasses. in reality, it is more likely to find us with the tortillas and peanut butter, tuna bags and ramen – practical, inexpensive, lightweight – that are commonplace in backpacks all along the trails. we dream anyway.
nevertheless, every time we go to REI, it, once again, occurs to me that i was uninformed which in turn makes me wonder, wonder, wonder about what else i was uninformed. we immerse in learning. because it is a good thing to learn.
as time marches on in the corrupt takeover of our country, i have found there is much i did not learn before. reading historical recounting – now – that gives context to today’s grab at authoritarianism stuns me at times. “i-didn’t-learn-that-did-you-learn-that???” has come out of my mouth more than once.
i’m astounded at the connecting-of-dots and what the perspective that this country’s true history have revealed about what is happening now.
i’m disgusted by the gross efforts to thwart access to this information, to bury our history, to distort the truth of this country’s difficult and ugly path.
it is insanity to whitewash the timeline of these united states . we have much to learn from our past – so much possibility to learn from our mistakes, the opportunity to grow as a democracy, to come ever closer to the intended dream of e pluribus unum.
sweeping it all under the rug instead reveals the underlying evil intention – pure evil – for the “great again” is not really great at all. it is the elimination of fought-for civil rights, the oligarchic hoarding of money, the plundering of lawful checks and balances, the annihilation of justice, the imbalance of power, the dumbing-down of the populace, the retribution tour of a small soulless man and his rabidly-panting project-overtake puppet-cronies all hungry for bright white control.
we try to resist. these days it’s nearly impossible.
i mean, we don’t have a whole heckofalotta vices but these dang chips – well – we have succumbed.
we do try to avoid them by keeping them out of the house. if you don’t go to costco you can’t buy them. if you go to costco (a store we adore for their staunch support of diversity, equity and inclusion) but don’t costco-mosey and don’t go to the wall-o-chips, you can’t buy them. if you go to costco and actually buy them but don’t open the bag and leave it on the top shelf of the left side of the pantry in the kitchen, you can’t eat them.
yet, even with all these avoidance techniques, we have failed – numerous times – miserably. and then we think – eh – so what – it’s just a bag of chips! it’s not like a crime against humanity – which we can identify because we are seeing plenty of those these days.
so we eat chips.
my name is kerri and his name is david and we eat chips.
i don’t remember ever seeing as many political signs over the course of a decade as this past decade. i – frankly – am weary of it, though, i must say, it gives you a shortcut into someone’s mindset. without even a conversation with the stranger in a particular house with a particular sign, you can pretty much assume (and, yes, i know the perils of assumption) their stance. though earlier decades would have necessitated intelligent conversation and debate, this decade has made staaaaances abundantly clear.
with flags flying and banners bannering and yard signs standing tall and proud, the political fight has taken to gardens and yards and flagpoles and suspended from the eaves of peoples’ homes. enough already.
in vapid displays of tactlessness, there – apparently – is no longer any leaning to abide by the ‘political signs should be removed within seven days after the election’ legislation so often mandated by municipalities, cities, states et al. enough.
and because it always seems like we are in some sort of election cycle, it is now never-ending. signs galore. enough.
it is exhausting. and rather depressing. to see – without a doubt – what you are surrounded by.
each morning now, as dogga awakens us or we just mosey out of sleep unprompted by a cold nose snuffling us, i can hear the birds. in the middle of every everything, it is the birdsong that gives me joy as i wake.
when i was growing up on long island, my birthday was serious spring-cusping-time. no longer were winter coats or down vests necessary. the forsythia was blooming and the sweaters were out. i can still hear the birds in the woods behind our house.
i’ve been watching the weather, hoping for a nice day. it’s supposed to be cloudy with a high of 54. surprisingly, though there is a definite absence of forsythia, it will be warmer today than in my old hometown. we will likely go for a hike somewhere – one of our familiar – but loved – trails. because it’s a thursday we’ll have dinner with 20 and we will probably play rummikub together.
and sometime during the day i will sit and ponder turning 66. I’m not sure what 66 is supposed to look like – physically, emotionally, spiritually, economically. i know that many people around me have had different journeys to 66, some of which are much more predictably stable than my own.
nevertheless, i plan on being in wonder. i’ll put lack of perfection aside, next to disappointments and failures. instead, i will look at abundance and think about what would be blue-notebook entries – the mica moments that glitter, the blooms that are ready to blossom, the things that can’t be contrived or spun – all those shiny times and matte times that just simply happen so that we might notice, pay attention and embrace them for all the rest of time.
and 66 years ago today my sweet momma anxiously awaited her very next day – the day she would have surgery and i would be born. i’m grateful for her courage to have another child – even after almost a decade had gone by. i’m grateful for her bravery knowing there would be a caesarean section and recuperation, discomfort. i’m grateful for her fortitude to have me, even though she was older than most other moms having babies. and so, on that next day, i found my way home – into the air and the sun, a place of dandelions and daffodils.
home is sometimes elusive. we watch many people chase it on house hunters, seeking big and new and granite-y and double-sinked and updated and maintenance-free. we look around us – in our living room under a furry throw – at our old plaster walls, wood floors and the et al of a 1928 house – and we express gratitude. we are not chasing home. we are there. we have found each other and that – that very thing – has brought us home.
it is rare that we must follow cairns while hiking, as we are not in the backcountry as much as we wish to be. but if it is that one day we thru-hike long trails, then we will follow stacks of rocks to help us find our way. we will count on them as guideposts.
during this time of utter chaos in our country, we are not recognizing things and people around us – near and far – as the home we have understood. we are astounded by the fast changes and the cheering squad supporting the overturning of goodness. the guideposts of normal have disappeared, the landmarks are skewed. wise cairns have been demolished. we are disoriented.
we took a walk along the lakefront in our ‘hood. right over by the beach house where we had the food truck, daisy cupcakes and bonfire of our wedding, there was a path down to the beach. we took it.
oftentimes, there are cairns on this sand – beautiful towers of lakefront rocks – standing tall off the edge of the surf. but there were no cairns.
so we built one.
a pilgrimage point. a token reminder – we are here. we have found our way.
we are home. and we will find our way through the rest. together.
it was a stunner of a day. brilliant sun, azure blue sky, wisps of clouds, hardly anyone else on the trail. we were in heaven. we needed to be outside, to go move, to see the beautiful river trail coming to life. they were easy miles to hike – we had to stop ourselves and turn around or we would have gone way too far.
the wind just arrived. just now. like a switch, it went from stillness outside to the swirling of wind, the noise of wind, the worry of wind. writing this ahead, it is saturday and extreme weather has and is taking its toll on the country. we have had a wind advisory and wind warnings now for days. we have been alerted.
i laid awake last night for hours. the rain and wind woke me up, but the state of things kept me up. the trees falling are only one of many things on the current angst-list.
i know that it is important to keep things in somewhat of a balance – to shimmy over to the side of seeing beauty, feeling peace, being present, particularly during these obscenely chaotic times here. but the things that are happening to this country are real – they are actually happening, and, as a citizen of this country, i wonder where it is that there may be an outer limit. my fear – one of the nightmonsters – is that there is no outer limit. cruelty knows no bounds and as noam chomsky is quoted, “…evil doesn’t even begin to approach it.”
if it gets too windy as we write we will move into another room, for right behind our pillows is a very tall pine and my imagination is working overtime. i can feel the vibration in my chest vibrating, so i know that i am on alert. this is an all-too-familiar feeling these days. we are all often in fight or flight mode now, it seems. acute stress.
the day after this day of brilliantness we had another hike, though shorter. we sat on the deck and soaked up the warmth, sipped wine, talked about inane topics that kept us strayed away from current events. we had a couple other days of early spring weather before the in-like-a-lion kicked in. i’ve always been heartened by the out-like-a-lamb and, each year, pretty much depend on it…full-fledged counting on this idiom.
i wish the same were true for the state of our nation. that even though march – less than two months into this corruption – came in like a lion – it would go out like a lamb.
but you can’t count on folklore for the weather or politics. both are chaotic and neither is haphazard. one is natural, and is a result of the interactions of scientific systems; the other is deliberately machinated, a result of amoral strategy and self-serving intention.
one has the potential to be a lamb. the other is just aggressive, with high kill rates.
in researching it is curious to me to read – now that we are talking about aggressive creatures – that the deadliest creature on earth is the mosquito. i’m guessing that many people are not aware of this and, to them, sans any research or factoids, the mosquito is merely a noisy nuisance. in reality, the mosquito – as a creature – poses the most mortal threat to humans.
sounds like this new administration. and i’d venture the same guess – that many people – particularly those who – with fox-jacked-up anger – threw their votes onto the dysfunctional red bandwagon – sans any research or factoids – are not aware and, to them, the noise is just that – noise.
we clearly need this. not just one horseshoe. two horseshoes. not in relief, but in iron. hanging over the entire country spilling good luck, positive energy and protection from evil over the whole nation. nothing else seems to be working.
honestly. it is freakish what is happening here. every single day i am stunned by the corruption and evil doings of this administration. every single day i am shocked by the cheering squad. every single day i am forced to reckon with the fact that people don’t care about the facts, that people don’t care about the evil or the corruption. every single day i am rocked to my core, grieving relationships that were dear to me but that place me or my very own children in peril.
i imagine many get what i feel.
if a horseshoe is supposed to bring good things, then – certainly – two will do the job.
we have one in the sunroom. it leans against the big ponytail palm on our plant stand. it used to be my sweet momma’s and it is upside down, supposedly catching all universe goodness for us here in our home. i’m hoping it’s still working; there are no low battery alerts, no alarm, no indicators of its potency or lack thereof. but there is belief. and maybe – just maybe – this rusty old horseshoe is keeping belief fresh and alive.
we surely need some talisman of better times, a way out of chaos, depravity and malfeasance, a generously compassionate way forward.
reverse threading 