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.
the catalogs in the old mailbox in our bathroom are well-worn. i don’t keep every catalog that comes into the house, but there are a few that make their way into the old mailbox that used to grace the front of our house for years. stio is one of them.
i page through – dreaming of the places in this catalog. the phrases they use resonate with me.
“don’t just go somewhere, be somewhere.”
that – ^ – those very words are the reason i don’t take travel tours. you might question my position – it might be that you very much value group tours – buses or boats or what-have-you. and that is most definitely a way to see places.
but we have found that – for us – it is more important to immerse in a place than to pass through and check it off on some bucket list. if we merely pass through, we feel we have missed the real essence of the place. if we merely pass through, we have missed the scent of dawn, the color of dusk, the tempo of the streets and sounds of the overnight. we have missed the accents, the colloquialisms, the marketplace, the joy of sitting for long hours watching people interact – in a new place. we have missed the opportunity of absorbing something – some tiny little thing even – from the new, strange land that we might take back with us. we have missed connecting with its people. we have missed the beating heart.
and so, i agree with stio: don’t just go somewhere, be somewhere.
we try to take the time to be engaged, somewhat engrossed in places we go. true, it isn’t always possible, but we do make every attempt. it is what drives decisions about travel. our checklist is not just that – a checklist. it is the chance to viscerally see, taste, smell, hear, touch another place on this good earth, a chance to really feel it.
it is the reason why – for the four days we were in paris – that we walked everywhere, miles and miles all over the city. it is the reason we found our way to the market, skipping the fancy restaurants we passed on the way. it is the reason we bought baguettes and cheese, tiny salads, bottles of wine, fruit tarts from a patisserie. it is the reason we sat on cathedral steps or on benches by fountains in parks to dine. it is the reason my feet hurt and my heart was full.
it’s why we return time and again to breckenridge – to hike its trails, wander its streets, hang out and talk to the shopkeepers and the bartenders, shop its grocery store.
it’s why – once we have found a place and accommodations that truly speak to us, we will return again – to be a part of the community, to walk its sidewalks, shop its merchants, talk with its people, live – even for the tiniest bit of time – in its midst.
when we think of all the places we have traveled together, we recollect images that are multi-dimensional. we remember how it felt. we may not get everywhere we would like to go – and our checklist may be left with boxes to check – but we will have spent time in places we got to know and that got to know us, at least a little bit.
it is the reason why – in addition to seeking new – we choose to return – time and again – to the same trails we know. they have become part of us and we a part of them, a connection that makes us feel a certain awed responsibility toward their continued existence.
it is in the way that the mountains take my breath away – and make me weep – upon first sight, in the way that the ocean’s tide beckons me and pulls at my toes, in the way red rock makes me reach to run my hand along its sandstone shell.
it is this way i wish to see new places – with enough breath to be enthralled, enough freedom to sit quietly or run free, enough time there to walk and walk, to linger, and enough joie de vivre to forgo getting as many checkmarks in the “done” column as possible and instead embrace the getting-to-know-you – the savoring – of places in our world.
this is not really a post about sourdough bread though i seriously would support a post about sourdough. particularly THIS sourdough.
ideal bakery in chicagoland has won over my gluten-free heart. for years i have been gluten-sensitive, paying close attention to the ingredients of any wheat-based products. i have been purchasing gluten-free breads and – from time to time – having a piece or two of an amazing (wheat) baguette or a cracker or two or maybe a piece of rye toast because it makes me think of my sweet momma and my grandmother mama dear.
my allergist/immunologist suggested i try sourdough bread. it ages differently through the fermentation process and is less gluten forward. not an option for those with crippling celiac, but definitely an option for me.
this bakery – with its dedication to purity – there is nothing you can’t pronounce on their list of ingredients – flour, water, salt, yeast – has maybe given me this different option. artisan european breads – basic.
we make most all of our meals. we rarely go out for dinner, more rarely lunch and never breakfast. we shop the periphery of the grocery store – buying pure and fresh ingredients, trying to eat healthy, with as little junk food as possible. basic. we love to cook together. david is a great sous chef, dogga is at our feet waiting for tiny bites, music is playing. we don’t cut corners, taking our time. even on dark days, preparing and making a meal together helps ground us. and good thing, for here we are, in the middle of the takedown of this country. more than a bit dark.
you would think that anyone fortunate enough to rise to the top, to lead the most powerful country in the free world, to have hundreds of millions of people to care for, would lead with the most basic ingredients, the most basic tenets – like empathy, compassion, equality, clearheaded intelligent critical thinking, kindness, generosity of spirit.
and yet, here we are. with the poisons of corruption – the high-fructose corn syrup, potassium bromate, azodicarbonamide, refined grains, trans fats and added sugars of this carcinogenic administration.
for a potato pretending to be a pear, this potato is not doing a great job. “poser!” 20 said, looking at the potato on the counter. we all laughed. and then i took out the peeler and cut it up to boil in the pot and make mashed potatoes. some posers are harmless.
i read the comments on facebook, grimacing. i get a certain pain in my heart when i see this sort of thing. here was a person hoo-rah-ing someone else’s achievement. now, that sounds like a good thing, yes? only in this case, this person – the one doing the hoo-rah-ing – had voted against the rights and freedoms and safety of the person whose achievement they were hoo-rah-ing. a transaction. this kind of poser is a hypocrite. this kind of poser is harmful, for this kind of poser can not be trusted.
i had a lengthy call with old friends on the phone this week. they told of a relative with whom they had conversation. the relative is dedicated to the new administration and its agenda, touting the good hard work the oligarch and his cohort-the-prez are doing for this country. my friends asked how she felt about USAID and this country’s new administration’s position lacking responsible compassion. she had no idea what USAID was. this person is a poser citizen, a poser voter. and this kind of poser is dangerous.
if you are planning on wholeheartedly sticking with the direction this administration is heading – where they have already taken us – then i would merely suggest you get yourself informed. read. research. ask questions. watch news that is factual – something that is not fox news, one america network or any “state tv” that conveniently forwards only things that make this evil self-serving administration look like brilliant people who care about the populace. find out what the ramifications of project 2025 might be to people you purport to care about, to issues you feel are important, to any sense of compassion you think you have.
be careful not to speak out of both sides of your mouth at the same time. you simply can’t have it both ways. be consistent. be honest. be transparent. don’t pretend to care about things or people you vehemently voted against.
you either are – in favor of all this evil – or you aren’t. own it. anything else is posing.
we commonly talk for our dogga. we talked for our babycat as well. we talk for wildlife in the woods. we talk for other drivers on the road. i talk for my toes. d talks for his knees. we pretty much animate anything.
including this veiled chameleon.
we rarely go to pet stores. but when we do go to a pet shop, it is with our hearts on our sleeves. this time the chameleon captured us.
i realize that he is being fed and watered (hopefully) properly and that his environment will be changed as he grows, but i couldn’t help but feel a sense of sadness as i watched him clawing at the glass of his terrarium.
as if he could understand what was happening in this chaotic world – sensing it perhaps – we stood with him, inches away, and interpreted the look on his face.
and in the strange way that all of us inhabitants of this earth somehow align, i was feelin’ it too. rejecting the idea that i was projecting my thoughts onto this small reptile, i told him that we were on the same page – with our shock, our dismay, our pointing fingers, our plea for a plan to make the chaos stop. we were one for these moments – cammy and me – and, in these same moments, i was reminded – once again – of how all the creatures – interconnected – human and critter – on this good earth could care about each other.
it’s been balmy the last couple days and we have been out on the trail, immersed in the beauty of the whole tapestry. i would bet that all of the people involved in the destruction of this country aren’t outside much. they have little to no perspective about how small they really are. somehow the almighty dollar has usurped any sense of camaraderie with the beings of the universe, somehow the climactic high of power has decimated their hearts and consciences. somehow they have lost it all while trying to seize it all.
we visited cammy again before we left the store. i whispered to him that i wouldn’t forget him. he whispered back the same. we exchanged a “what-now???” look that doubled as “get-me-outta-here”.
we walked toward the double doors that opened as we approached just as cammy went back to clawing the glass.
i remember 9/11 as i would imagine you do as well. everyone – every one – was talking about what had happened, what was happening to our beloved country. there wasn’t anyone who wouldn’t stop and talk about it with you – from strangers in the elevator you were sharing to associates in department stores to friends and colleagues to family and relatives.
i imagine it was the same on pearl harbor day, all during the vietnam war, during the nixon impeachment, when martin luther king, jr was assassinated, during hurricane katrina, hurricane sandy, hurricane maria, every school shooting, fires that couldn’t be controlled in the west, tornados in the south and the midwest, when jfk was assassinated, during the covid pandemic. there are too many disasters to even begin to list. i cannot imagine that there have been days when americans did not talk about what was happening. because conversation is important. and – most of the time – the only way through any trauma is to share how you are feeling with others.
except now.
suddenly, there is a silent crowd. a faction – the they -“don’t-talk-about-it” faction. this democratic country is disintegrating into authoritarianism – literally with the potential of turning into one of those “shithole countries” this base administration has grossly referred to – and they – suddenly – don’t wanna talk about it.
this only leads me to believe one thing.
which is –
drumroll, please –
that they wanted all these terrible, horrible, unconscionable things to happen.
there is something deeply rewarding about hiking on a snow-covered trail.
at any moment, you can turn around and see evidence of your having been there, evidence of your passing-through. there is no question. you have been there.
for us, the imprint of our hiking shoes meshed with a couple other boots, hoof prints of deer, tiny handprints of raccoons, the triangular prints of bunnies, the familiar prints of squirrels with a few dog paw prints and horseshoes. we had all passed by. separately. together. in community.
in the quietude of the snowscape, we pushed on a bit further. it had been a bit since we had been hiking outside – the weather was frigid and there were other things on our plate. but the peacefulness of the woods, the partially-frozen river, the familiar wind of the trail kept us going on this day.
though there is less variation in color on this winter’s day, there are innumerable textures and the fine differences in muted tones are peaceful, surrounding us in hushed comfort – like an old quilt – despite the cold wind.
this particular trail is an out-and-back. and so, we encountered our own footprints in every turn of the path on our way back. anyone hiking after us would wonder who had walked before, just as we wondered the same.
arriving at the trailhead and then littlebabyscion we were tired. but ever reminded that we each choose our path. we choose what to leave behind – our prints on the world – our existing – from the boots we wear to the care we have for all else on our path. we are cohabitants on this good earth. it is up to each of us us to sustain mutual respect in the all-too-finite.
there will be some evidence of our passing-through. it is my hope that what we leave – in the snow, in the dirt, in any wake we leave from our time here – will be as peaceful as this muted winter day on our trail.
“the president is both the head of state and head of government of the united states of america, as well as commander-in-chief of the armed forces. under article II of the constitution, the president is responsible for the execution and enforcement of laws created by congress.” (whitehouse.gov)
i’m guessing that the man in illinois with the compostable straw company knew the responsibilities of the president when he voted. i’m also guessing that he wouldn’t have believed for a second that his own company would be at peril because of his vote. i’m guessing that he pictured straws – yes, straws – near the bottom of the list of concerns that a new president would tackle in first days of office. because, well, straws.
we sat at the diner in reno and i reached forward to grab a straw. in the middle of the table was a glass full of compostable straws. in a country where we use up to 500 million of these babies a day, the fact that these were compostable made me smile. as people who are careful about trash and recyclables – to the point of using a stove/oven that is 50-60 years old – because it still works – i was relieved to think that this very straw i was sipping from was not going to outlast me – by a couple hundred years – in some landfill somewhere.
so imagine the surprise of this business owner upon discovering that in the very first few days – days! – of his presidency, the new president – president! – whining about paper straws “exploding” on him – decided that paper was out and plastic was back in, implying that there is no need to concern oneself with single-use items and opening the door once again to toxic styrofoam and plastic debris outlasting all of us and imperiling the environment. in an about-face from the save our seas 2.0 act of 2020 – this administration went back to plastic-straw-zealousness with inane comments about sharks being too busy munching through the ocean to be bothered by straws. way to be on point about the fraught environment and a need for things to biodegrade. and now this riding-on-the-red-bandwagon businessman will likely lose his entire business which was built on his entire life savings. no worries. at least the prez won’t have exploding straws in his mouth. perish the thought.
which simply brings me to another point.
how is it that this administration – based on the definition on their very website about the duties of the president – is – within the first couple weeks – concerning itself with the straws of this world? how is it that this administration is not concerning itself with upholding the constitution of this country, abiding by the laws and rules of this land, governing within the checks and balances of appropriate power, carrying forward the tradition of this country, the life, liberty and pursuit of happiness for all people, perhaps, even, its own promises of “bettering life” for the average american and all the other blah-blah that was promised?
is it possible that this administration lied in order to get back into power?
you betcha.
so many lies. and so many people who believed it all, pedestalizing a man who deserves no pedestal.
and now, merely a few weeks in, among all the questions about this horrendous administration, there is one very big question:
which of his lies will be the straw that breaks the country’s back?
the kohls department store shopping bag reads, “your community is our community.”
you would think that would be a great motto for the “leadership” of the united states government.
yeah. one big happy community. supporting the needs and challenges of each other, working for each other – leaning on how we are all more alike than different, lifting each other up – together. it isn’t a difficult concept.
a good leader – for a community – a tapestry of different people woven together – empowers others, stands in humility and with courageous and ethical vision, leads by example…there are too many virtuous characteristics to list, none of which are embodied by the current leadership of this country.
their community is not our community. and that could not be more clear.
i’m pretty sure that when my grandfather arrived at ellis island, his cautious expectation was that of optimism. he had landed in a place of new promise, a place of new opportunity, a place of new community.
the current administration of the same country my grandfather chose is swiftly undermining every bit of promise, opportunity and community. my grandpa would be horrified.
i’m pretty sure that when my father enlisted in the army air corps to fight in World War II – and was subsequently shot down, missing in action, taken prisoner of war – he did so with democracy in his heart, placing his own life on the line in order to push back against fascism and authoritarianism, to fight for community, for freedom.
the current administration of the same country for which my father sacrificed is swiftly beating back every iota of democracy, of the constitution, shielding itself from checks and balances, blatantly aligning itself with authoritarians of the world, deliberately going rapid-speed down the road of dismantling the very principles for which my dad fought. my father would be horrified.
but as we travel down this road, oligarchs leading the worshiping lemmings over the cliff, it appears that there is no one in the parade paying attention to the demise. the madmen are gleefully creating their own community bubble – dollar bills by the billions the membrane that separates them from the rest of the sea of America’s humanity. the parade of sycophants is too busy saving their own political and financial agenda to concern themselves with their actual constituents. the supporters of this administration are complicit in the cruelty of what they are witnessing, schadenfreude taking over their minds and hearts, cheering from the sidelines, immersed in misinformation and the negligence of refusing to fact-check, the turning of their backs on their very communities.
it’s all vile.
and my grandfather and father are staring from another dimension, wide-eyed and fearful at the demolition of promise and opportunity for all, freedom for all, the obliteration of any ‘yours is ours’ in these un-united states, the dismantling of their own hard-won legacy and the annihilation of the legacy of america.
merely glancing at this photo of ice-encased grasses makes it clear that it is cold out. very cold.
because some things are obvious. a no-brainer, as it’s said. you can see right through.
silence is like that.
remaining completely silent – not uttering a word of raging disdain or abject horror – in the middle of this country’s hellish descent in this time of destruction – makes your position – of complicity – obvious. a no-brainer.
this is a time demanding connection. this is a time when we need each other. we need to band together and buoy each other. we need mutual support in a liminal frozen space of atrocity as we all witness the stripping of our democracy. we need to talk. we need to ask questions. we need to sort. we need to speak up.
i haven’t been able to decide if i am more sickened by what’s happening in this country or by family, friends and acquaintances who – clear as ice – think it’s perfectly ok. like too many others, i wonder, “who the hell are you, anyway???”
you may think your stance is not transparently clear – while you publicly – and callously – try to give the impression of going about normal life normally – or while you pretend it isn’t happening – even privately – but your silence about these atrocities in very real life speaks volumes.
having been thrown under the bus before by people i have trusted – including perhaps you – i warily wonder how far you would go to support all this.
and so we reach to others, we connect, we stand with them, we protect each other as best we can.
because just as clear as ice your silent complicity are their good intentions. and the choice is obvious. a no-brainer, as it’s said.
reverse threading 