if you don’t feel overwhelmed right now – and you are in the united states – than you are – clearly – an anomaly.
we pulled up behind this car at a stoplight. the “#notnormal” bumpersticker got my attention.
nothing seems normal. nothing IS normal.
we – in this country – are facing down the collapse of everything we have known, understood, loved.
it is utter madness. crazy-deranged. grotesquely-mean. sociopathic.
i am resisting. i am trying to resist. and i am failing.
i am resisting fear. i am resisting depression. i am resisting confusion. i am resisting horror. i am resisting rage. i am resisting the madness.
i am trying to resist fear. i am trying to resist depression. i am trying to resist confusion. i am trying to resist horror. i am trying to resist rage. i am trying to resist the madness.
i am failing at resisting fear. i am failing to resist depression. i am failing to resist confusion. i am failing to resist horror. i am failing to resist rage. i am failing to resist the madness.
all of it. a melting pot of fear, depression, confusion, horror, rage, madness and – yes – resistance.
because this is all so exponentially not normal.
we – all the rest of us mortals – are all trying to breathe one breath at a time. in and out. inhale. exhale.
and we – each in our own way – resist the madness.
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.
“if i’m laden at all/i’m laden with sadness that everyone’s heart isn’t filled with the gladness of love for one another.” (he ain’t heavy, he’s my brother – bob russell/bobby scott)
when i look in the mirror these days i am struck by the lines around my eyes, the lines etched above my lips, the furrow etched into my brow. i wonder how they all arrived without my noticing, as if – at night, while i was sleeping – a clay sculpting tool had gently drawn lines in skin no longer as resilient as it had been.
i glance at photographs from merely five years ago – and then ten years ago – and am startled to see the difference. but i know what the last years have been and – so – i should not be surprised. these wrinkles have been earned.
for it has been a time.
we all have them – these timelines of challenge or disappointment or frustration or grief.
in the humanness we all share, it would seem prudent to share these heavy burdens, the stuff of life that is made easier with someone else to help lift them.
“so on we go/his welfare is my concern/no burden is he to bear, we’ll get there.”
but this last decade.
as is woven throughout the history of this country, the extraordinary of abject cruelty and its ugly head raise up and shock our belief in equality and kindness. this last decade.
the hypocrisy of institutions supposedly dedicated to the love of one another – to goodness – to compassion – shifts the ground under our feet and we have been gobsmacked by the betrayal. this last decade.
our very own communities have quaked, stormy, seismic shifts forming a crevasse between us – not merely a difference in opinion, but a difference in basic morality. we reel from the impact, from the air that is sucked from our lungs as we grok this. this last decade.
last week. my birthday. d’s homemade card next to my early morning coffee. the pink tulips from 20. dogga’s momma-kisses. the call from my girl and her husband. and that moment my son handed me a tiny carrot cake – remembering. i felt the light, the easing of the load, the gladness, the love. each time.
i do not understand the dedication to cruelty, to evil intention, to undermining others, to destruction, to the bandwagon of every-man-for-himself-every-woman-for-herself.
“it’s a long, long road from which there is no return/while we’re on the way to there why not share?”
i wonder how it might all be different.
i suspect there’d be far fewer furrows and creases and wrinkles.
“and the load doesn’t weigh me down at all. he ain’t heavy. he’s my brother.”
the owner of these beautiful amber eyes is an empath like no other. dogga tunes in to every single thing around him – particularly us.
he reads our feelings, even anticipating them. his nature is to stay close, to monitor us, to be a furry support system. it is clear that he cares deeply about how we feel, despite the fact that he is not experiencing that feeling.
empathy.
i’m writing this on tuesday – the day of the big wisconsin supreme court vote. by the time you read this we will all know the outcome. but right now, we have no idea how this will turn out.
the media is covering this and social media is blowing up over this. the oligarch came to town, donned a cheese hat and gave away bribe money in support of his/their candidate.
so let’s for a second talk about that.
scrolling through facebook just a bit ago i came across a post about this red-supported-candidate and about the candidate opposing him. when i read posts, i also read people’s comments on the posts – for that is where one might glean why-on-earth this devastation is all happening.
and there it was.
and it was all about empathy.
in a post that listed factual articles about the candidate-on-the-red-wagon – with links – resources where you could learn about his actual stance on things, actions he has taken – a woman stated, “my vote is for [ him ]!” whattheHECK?!
i read through the posts with links, the other comments on the thread until i reached the last one.
that person responded that the woman – even faced with facts of how this judicial candidate irresponsibly handled sexual abuse cases as an attorney general – not to mention his staunch dedication to the outdated laws of 1849 – did not care. and here is the crux of it all:
“she is a privileged old white woman who hasn’t been affected by those crimes. no empathy for others; only herself.”
and that, my friends, is the whole point.
as a victim of sexual predation and rape, i want to say that comment resonated all too well. for what woman – who actually HAS empathy – would actually wish to have a rapist in the office of the prez? what woman – who actually HAS empathy – would want to even entertain the idea of any man – or woman – who is a predator, a molester, a sexual offender, a rapist in any position of power? what woman – who actually HAS empathy – would want a supreme court judge – for the federal government or – like now – for the state of wisconsin – who has sloughed off accountability, who has limited justice for sexual abuse survivors?
now read that again and substitute “what man”.
generalizing that out just a bit further – what human – who actually HAS empathy – would want any of the abomination of this new administration? the brutalization of immigrants, the annihilation of LGBTQ rights and safety, the minimalization of women’s rights, the marginalization of non-white races, the intentional dumbing-down and impoverishing of the populace, the tossing off of environmental and health safeguards, the dismantling of checks and balances and lawful governing, the isolationism and bullying of the rest of the world, the intense and toxic growth of corruption…the list goes on.
the answer is that these are the privileged people who haven’t been affected by any of these “things”. these are the apathetic, the cold-hearted, the bigoted, the sadistic, the callous, the merciless.
these are people who care only about their own tiny lives.
these are people with no empathy.
because – somehow in their closed worlds – if it doesn’t affect you it doesn’t affect you.
they should take a lesson from our dog with beautiful amber eyes.
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.
“sometimes hope is a radical act, sometimes a quietly merciful response, sometimes a second wind, or just an increased awareness of goodness and beauty.”(anne lamott)
he burst back in the front door exclaiming, “you have to go see!!”
for good reason.
the day lilies had poked through the leaves and dried stalks and, in the middle of all that brown – tucked up against the old brick wall – there was green.
the brick wall holds the warmth of the southern sun. nestled in that garden, the day lilies – an ordinary plant with nothing froufrou about it – were encouraged and nurtured. and so, even in the cold temperatures and the occasional snow flurry, the day lilies responded. gleefully. and their rising out of the dirt, their bright green of newness, gave me – us – hope. spring is here.
it would seem that people are not much different. there is a spring for ordinary people – with nothing froufrou about them – who are encouraged and nurtured. there is hope.
this country – filled with ordinary folks – has generally prided itself – congratulated itself – on its stance on human rights, on altruism, on its generosity of safety net programs. the melting pot that is the populace has been supported by a democracy that upholds humane values of fairness, equity, legality, goodness, kindness.
but it appears now we have been congratulating ourselves on something that was ticking its way out of existence, being usurped by intense greed and corruption, shallow conscience and deep-seated hatred. this source of our national pride is disintegrating right in front of us – being poisoned and stifled and ripped to shreds – and now it seems demolition is seconds away.
and there is nothing that the sun, the warm bricks, the insulating dry leaves and brush can do.
what will happen to the day lilies?
“hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. you wait and watch and work. you don’t give up.” (anne lamott)
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.
reverse threading 