it was this morning – while i was nibbling on gluten-free cinnamon toast. it was while i was dishing out dogga’s dinner. it was while we sat at the kitchen table, darkness quickly falling outside. it was while i was sending a picture-of-the-day to my children, while i was texting with my dear friend. it was while i listened to george winston’s thanksgiving. it was on the trail. it was at the matinee of the movie here. it was leaving the theatre, tears in our eyes, grateful it was still a little light out.
it is right now. and this is where we are.
there are boundaries to be drawn, plans to be made, worries to be worried, griefs to be grieved.
there is shock and outrage. there is absolute horror.
there is no humor in what will come – and there is disgust at those who laugh with the sadistic glee of getting their way.
there is knowing and not-knowing. there is lostness.
there is uncertainty in the insanity of these moments.
but it is right now. and this is where we are. still.
so i will take stock wherever i find goodness, wherever i find community, wherever i find even a bit of joy, wherever i find love.
and i will dance in the kitchen, make homemade tomato soup, grow parsley in the winter. i will hold tighter to his hand and hug on our dogga. i will be frugal and i will be frivolous.
and i will sit on the wire with the other birds, watching the sky turn from night to day and night again. grateful for the tiniest things – that sky, the birds who love me and who i love, the wire and the still of still being here.
if i were to write a children’s book about clouds, this cloud would have an arrogant name – something aggressive, threatening. this is the cloud that covers the sun, dark, assailing. this cloud would be the cloud that rides the bumper of the others, that drives on the shoulder, that flips you off as it passes. it would be the screaming banshee of clouds with its hulk of stone cold water droplets. it is the cloud that makes a mockery of the other clouds, dominating their practiced and important jobs of precipitation, reflection, insulation. it is ominous and likely indicative of a storm coming. this cloud is emboldened.
we are in the earliest days of fallout from the election. the emboldened are obvious. they are the arrogant ones, the aggressive, threatening ones. they are dark; they are assailing. they are the ones riding your bumper, driving on the shoulder, flipping you off. they are screaming banshees of propaganda, hulking masses of disturbingly evil what-we-are-going-to-do-to-this-country-what-we-are-going-to-do-to-people. they are mocking and they are stone cold, gleefully ominous, dominating, militant. there is a storm coming.
the animals in the forest watch this cloud intently, intuitively knowing that their forest could be destroyed in its wake.
we watch the emboldened insanity intently, intuitively knowing that that our country could be destroyed in its wake.
when you drive almost 1900 miles around the southwest – on backroads, highways, interstates – you get to see some real life.
we drove from nevada to utah to arizona and back to nevada- a big loop. there was so much to see – even just out the window of the suburban stuffed with six people and six suitcases, six carry-on backpacks or tote bags, six water bottle koozies and lots of snacks. there were many lessons along the way as we drove through small towns, farms, ranchland, desert, canyonlands.
there were people. people living in these small towns, on these farms, on this ranchland, in the desert, homesteading by the canyonlands. real live people, an exclamation point of diversity.
i had the good fortune of meeting the woman who opened her home to us – through airbnb – a half hour or so south of the grand canyon. hers was not a five-star hotel. hers was not a resort-amenity-rich spa. hers was not a photo-shoot instagram-worthy house of smart finishes and interior design. hers was a home – her beloved home to which she was soon going to return to live.
you knew as you drove down the gravel road – past the mobile homes and modular houses. you knew as you pulled into her dirt driveway and pulled up to the porch, a little worse for wear. you knew as you drove in and the outbuildings scattered within the split-rail fencing were numerous. you knew as you walked in – the laundry room off the porch door – and the floor was worn. you knew as you strolled about in her home, filled with antiques, charming tchotchkes and quirky notes everywhere that explained how things worked or invited you in to her life.
she pointed at one of the outbuildings and told me that was to become her she-shed. she pointed at what looked like a pile of rubble and told me that was the beginning of a barn for her husband and his workbench. she was so excited to tell me that we were the last guests at her home and that after a couple weeks she and her husband would return there, would move back into their forever home, would be looking forward to the peace that space, that horizon, the mountains in the distance, the desert up close and personal afforded them. this was her sea-to-shining-sea. this place represented her freedom, the place she would heal from several medical challenges, the place she would grow old, the place she truly loved with all her heart. i wanted to weep for her happiness.
this is the time – RIGHT NOW – when we all get to vote for the place that represents our freedom. this is the time – RIGHT NOW – when we all get to vote for healing our nation from the division that has been stoked by the voices in maga-land. this is the time – RIGHT NOW – when we all get to vote so that we might grow old in a democracy, so that our children and their children can grow old in a democracy. this is the time – RIGHT NOW – that we all get to vote for a place we love with all our heart.
it matters not if we have a fancy home or a plain home. what matters is that we are grateful for this democracy that houses whatever home it is we have, wherever it is we live in these united states . what matters is that we are grateful for the freedoms, the constitution, the checks and balances of power, the mutual respect of each other – our sameness and our differences, the ability to have a voice.
we drove about 1900 miles. we saw the ultra-fancy and we saw the hovels in the middle of nowhere. we marveled at the uncanny ability of people to be resilient, to tenaciously cling to life and livelihood, regardless of their circumstance. we dreamed that this country would continue to address hardship – in all its forms – and that we would continue to step only forward.
we spoke about the airbnbs we stayed at. there were five, all different. this home – in the desert and unlike any of the others – touched my heart. this woman did the best she could to offer up her house to others who are traveling, to invite people in, to envelop them in warmth and the reassurance of home, albeit temporarily. i have so much respect for her – her unapologetic sharing of her home. she offered her beloved and imperfect space to complete strangers, trusting we would care for it. it was so much more than the option that offered a stark, austerely modern building, sans thoughtful gestures. it was a slice of real life.
real life is a country filled to the brim with people – all different. real life is a country that stands by e pluribus unum – out of many, one.
real life is meeting people – across this country – everyone different, in every different kind of circumstance – knowing we are all in this together.
real life is recognizing the urgency we face. it is being honest about what we could potentially lose and to whom we could lose it.
real life is RIGHT NOW – when it is completely and utterly delusional to think that everything would be better if the maga agenda wins, if hatred and bigotry and extreme nationalism and misogyny and the undermining of democracy win.
real life would never be the same. this country – our home – would never be the same.
if you have driven on independence pass – route 82 in colorado – you will note that there are few guardrails. very few. the times i have navigated this stunningly beautiful drive have been somewhat white-knuckling. the road is steep, narrow and twisty. to stay safe, you must pay attention.
there were spots at the grand canyon with guardrails. but, of course, they weren’t everywhere. the national park service fully expects that you will act out of respect for the danger, that you will be responsible, that you will exercise your own guardrails for your safety.
maturity requires that of us in life – to act out of respect for danger, to be responsible, to exercise our own guardrails.
and it is time to do just that in this election. past time, actually. but now is better than not.
the maga candidate is spelling out – TELLING us – what his second presidency would look like. he is spelling out the kind of atrocities to which he subscribes. he is spelling out the kind of country this would become.
and he will have no guardrails. there will be no one to check his shameful actions, his vile words, his heinous revenge, his cruelty, his brutality, the sick agenda of his cronies, his abomination of all that is american.
do you recognize that he is spelling out the looming danger? do you recognize that he is blatantly – fascistly – describing the regime he would institute in this land of democracy?
do you recognize that NOTHING will be the same? do you recognize that we will all suffer – including you – because of whatever uncontrollable rage it is you have, because you are aligning yourself with this vitriolic agenda, because you are jumping on the hatred bandwagon?
do you recognize yourself now? are you standing in your integrity? are you one of those ready to participate in obliterating the constitution of these United States?
are you LISTENING to what this maga candidate is spewing, to what his agenda is promising?
where is your respect for this democracy? where is your mature sense of responsibility? where are your guardrails? are you paying attention or are you lost in some kind of eddy of swirling anger and hate?
the national park system prints their policy in their maps and on their brochures. it states: “your safety is your responsibility.”
we stand at a crossroad in this country. a place where we need to act out of respect for danger, to be responsible, to exercise our own guardrails for the safety of this country.
it is time to be mature.
your safety – and the safety of your children, your grandchildren, your family, your community, your state, your country – is at absolute risk. the threat is REAL.
it is a dangerous, dangerous road.
and i am white-knuckling, hoping you are paying attention, hoping your guardrails are in place.
it’s kind of traditional for this group. our up-north gang is superb at pontoon-boating together. so it seemed like a given we would pontoon on lake powell.
we had spent a lot of time in the rented suburban, driving from one iconic national park to another, surfing the canyonlands of this country – kind of an overview of the wildly beautiful. the idea of being in a boat together was enticing, particularly magical in the middle of the desert.
it was completely different than long lake and bass lake – connecting lakes in northern wisconsin. with awe-inspiring rock formations lining the fingers of this lake, we cruised around – hours disappearing into what seemed mere minutes. stunning us around every corner.
to say that we were overwhelmed by all the intense beauty we saw on our trip is to not be able to put words to it. the incredible vistas were mind-numbingly vast, gorgeous, pride-inducing. not enough adjectives.
here we all were – good friends out in the southwest. we had spoken about this trip for quite some time. some serious health events got in the way, so actually being there was an absolute celebration of life – you could not help but feel grateful not only for everything we were seeing, but grateful that we were able to see it all – together.
this america – with sea-to-shining-sea natural gifts – was the america of which we were proud. this america – that encouraged us to explore, to take to the road, to travel, to have limitless opportunity – was the america of which we were proud. this america – and this was the bottom line for our trip together – that had access to excellent health care which helped in the serious life events, that made it possible for us to stand on the edges of these canyons – was the america of which we were proud. this america – teeming with tourists and languages we didn’t understand – was the america of which we were proud. this america – with so much diversity, so much to learn, to see, to experience – was the america of which we were proud.
i am a native new yorker. i have been to – the iconic – madison square garden (msg) many times. there was the time – during my horse-crazy phase (which incidentally hasn’t ever really ended) – when my parents took me to the national horse show, probably around 1968 or ’69. there was the time i went to the john denver concert in the later 70s. and there was the circus a little later. more concerts and events i can’t even remember. it is – as stated on their website – “a celebrated center of New York life…with an appearance at the worlds most famous arena often representing a pinnacle of an athlete’s or performer’s career.”
i was horrified to see footage of the maga rally held there – on the pinnacle stage of a performer’s career – this past sunday.
what america is this?
there are no words to describe the ultra-ugliness, the bold hatred, the disrespect, the dystopian rhetoric, the clear fascist intent of this rally. it was despicable in every way. i am not tapped out for adjectives like i was in the canyonlands of this beautiful country. i am tapped out for adjectives that adequately describe the deplorable nature of this unforgivable rally.
the intent of the maga candidate and his sycophants is obvious. it is not in question. there is no denying it. it is in plain view.
but you can vote against it.
and so, i ask you this:
are you still undecided? are you still planning on voting for this grossly incompetent maga candidate? do his words – and the words of his platform and his cronies make you proud? are you ready for an authoritarian state of being, for the crushing of this democracy, for cruel undermining and undeterred marginalization, for the treasonous demolition of america, the beautiful? is this what you want?
and, if you are still undecided, if you are planning on throwing away everything – every single thing iconic about the democracy of this country, if you are planning on voting for the candidate who is making you – YOU – complicit in making the united states of america a fascist regime, what in the hell are you thinking?
standing under the desert night sky – zillions of stars and the milky way just lingering out there above me. stunning. it was like an umbrella of humility. we are so very tiny, after all.
yet, on this clear night, on the border of arizona and utah, i stood holding hands with my husband on this stargazing deck, merely feet from dear friends. i thought about recent photos our son had posted of the starry sky in utah while exploring with our daughter. i could feel the love i had for each of them – it felt enormous – and yet, i am so tiny, after all.
last week i was taken by ambulance to the emergency room. i have never been treated by 911 paramedics and firemen before, nor have i ever been in an ambulance. but the situation seemed pretty dire and david needed back-up from people who had medical and emergency knowledge.
in the emergency room, i was struck both by how many people were present for me and how many people needed care. each person treating me was empathetic and caring; each one made me feel like they had true concern for what was happening.
and no one asked me about my political stance before they treated me.
instead, i was one star in the sky and they were each nearby stars. no one was greater than the other. we were all in it together, working with each other to a common goal.
in the period of time i was at the emergency room, two dedicated nurses, a doctor, an x-ray tech, other aides all assisted in attempting to figure out what was happening. hours later, i was grateful for each of them, for their expertise, their comprehensive care, their kindness.
this is the world i wish to live in…where we are all equal stars in a vast sky full of different stars. where we are all working together. where we have compassion and concern for each other, where we strive for everyone to be well.
this is the world i wish to live in…where rage doesn’t exist, where no one makes excuses for bigotry, where people bring their best and do the best they can for each other, no one belittles others, no one dehumanizes any one else – regardless of their gender, their race, their ethnicity, their sexual orientation or identification, their religion, their socioeconomic status.
it was no joke going to the hospital in an ambulance. everything most important to me was needlenose-pointedly front and center in my mind. i was scared and i was counting completely on others.
and i carried this from my experience – now, as i heal from all of it – reinforcing we need live this way. like we are stars in the sky – indiscernibly no bigger or brighter than the rest – all part of the enormous galaxy – all in it together.
we need hold each other up, lift each other up, live present to the moment, hold joy as our north star.
the opposite is toxic.
a punitive, uncaring, narcissistic, demeaning, rights-stripping, rage-filled, hateful, vengeful, limited world is a waste of time.
from the patio of our airbnb, it all looked tiny. lake powell, framed by red rock, was a stunning blue under an equally stunning blue sky. the vista was beautiful. in the aperture of my phone’s camera, sans telephoto help – it was sooo small.
but the fact of the matter is that it wasn’t small at all. it was simply a matter of perspective. these sculptured vistas were a very long way below us – our elevation was well above the lake level canyons…perhaps even 1000 feet. it still never failed to amaze me as i gazed at it all, 360 degrees of amazing, relishing it at each point in the days we were there. it felt as if we had the advantage of a soaring eagle, looking down on this utterly gorgeous view.
such vastness was overwhelming. it was perspective-arranging. that which looked tiny was indeed of gigantic proportion.
and, in the way of perspective, i am just now beginning to understand something else.
in regard to the current presidential election – i think that i have been pushing back on the possibility, refusing to believe, hoping against hope – in terms of voters supporting the maga candidate and the maga agenda – that people were just ill-informed, not fact-checking, not paying attention. i was thinking that watching propaganda tv was smearing this vitriol into their brains, gaslighting them, and that – in the limited access they have chosen – they did not know better than to question it. i was thinking that reading, viewing, listening to the narrow, incomplete, customized rhetoric of maga tv/media was normalizing this candidate’s incapacity to be president, was eliminating details and that – were people to actually be cognizant of his unfit-ness, of these details – they would think differently.
i suppose – in some cases of maga supporters – that could be true. that that hateful bandwagon’s lure makes one indiscriminate, makes one not want to question or understand or find the truth. instead, it makes one loud, stubbornly clinging, ill-advised, completely deaf to reality, ignoring danger as if it didn’t exist.
and, in the other cases, i suddenly – and very sadly – had a moment of enlightenment, a perspective shift. and i am taking back the grace i had granted.
i realized that these people scroll just like me, they listen and read and, thus, they completely understand this candidate’s hate-mongering, the maga intentions, the efforts to thwart freedoms and dehumanize women, LGBTQ, races other than white.
i realized that they WANT these agendas, they WISH for nationalism, they BELIEVE that this candidate is their savior and that his racist, misogynistic, prejudiced, crass thinking, words and actions are entertaining and they AGREE with him.
i realized that they LIKE the thought of an america led by a pitiful human who pushes immigrants under, who demeans democracy, who touts authoritarianism, who dreams of power, who spews vulgarity.
i realized his sexual abuse of women, his hateful promises of mass deportation, his incitement of insurrection, his undeterred, adoring alliances with dictators, his felony convictions MEAN NOTHING to them.
i realized that they LIKE this grotesque and venomous character, this unending vortex of chaos and ugliness.
and here i was thinking maybe they just needed more information or access to research, to ask questions, to seek the truth, to consider their legacy, to hold to democracy.
here i was thinking that maybe another perspective might help them see, might help them discern, might help them find their moral compass.
here i was thinking that they weren’t hearing the whole story, that they weren’t informed, that they weren’t hearing what this candidate was saying, that they didn’t know what the maga agenda really was, that they had no idea what destruction project 2025 would inflict on this country.
here i was thinking it was a lack of awareness, a misunderstanding, not their fault.
i was wrong.
entirely wrong.
they WANT this.
the vista in the lake powell desert shifted when i realized that our vastly increased elevation played a part in my perspective. it recaptured the immensity that viewing from lake level afforded it.
the election shifted when i realized that this is – truly – what these maga people WANT. that i live in a country where people – half the populace – WANT the despicably ugly.
and that is the nadir of it all. the absolute lowest point that eclipses all other low points. rock bottom. tragic.
i have never felt such pure disappointment in humanity.
it was the last arch on the map without going backcountry. we stared down the long hill, weighing the opportunity to see it against the very hot sun and our very tired elevation-trail-challenged bodies. we chose the opportunity to see it.
i’ll never forget the first time i saw this incredible place. our daughter videotaped my reaction – gleeful that i was teary-eyed from the beauty. “i think she likes it!” she quipped.
we left the rest of the group on the top of the hill and started to hike down. and down. and down. tunnel arch pulled us – our thoughts – go now for when will we be back? – drawing us further downhill, even knowing we would need to hike back up.
it was absolutely worth it. the sun was getting lower in the sky over the arch and blue sky shined through the perfect circle worn into the red rock. opportunity knocked and we answered. and, despite the tough uphill, we were grateful to have seen this stunning sight.
opportunity is funny like that. you know that there are sacrifices as well as rewards. and you need to sort it out, choose that which balances you, fulfills you. in this case, immersion in arches national park – as much as possible for that day – was our choice.
and that light. the red rock glowed, the sage was lit. there was no way to succumb to feeling tired at the bottom of the trail we had just taken.
instead, the sunlight was invigorating, outlining the graceful curves of the arch, tempting us to hike closer. had there been time – and had our pals not been waiting on the crest of the hill – we would have hiked into tunnel arch itself.
i can imagine nestling against the curve of its wall, soaking in the sunlight, resting from the day. i can imagine that the sun would have replenished the energy we needed to rejoin our friends, to hike out, to finish this glorious day. i imagine that the sun would have swept away any vestiges of tiredness, replacing those with gratitude and awe.
tunnel arch offered us an opportunity. and in taking that very opportunity i was reminded of martin luther king jr’s words:
“my place is in the sunlight of opportunity.”
sunlight. opportunity.
“we have before us the glorious opportunity to inject a new dimension of love into the veins of our civilization.”
opportunity. love.
“…we have an opportunity to make america a better nation.”
opportunity. america.
vote for sunlight. vote for awe, for love, for the gloriousness of this sacredly beautiful nation. vote for opportunity.
“have you ever seen anything in your life more wonderful than the way the sun, every evening, relaxed and easy, floats toward the horizon and into the clouds or the hills, or the rumpled sea, and is gone –
and how it slides again out of the blackness, every morning, on the other side of the world…” (mary oliver)
and, in the high desert of moab, i watched as the sun took its rest from day. slowly it sunk down below the mesa in the distance, slowly hiding behind the mountains, slowly the sky echoed that it would be night, that we could now slumber and wake to yet another new day.
and, in the morning, we rose before the sun had graced the top of the east peaks. we stood and watched, waiting for this next new day, another day that would be filled with beauty, with grand landscapes, with awe.
“and have you ever felt for anything such wild love – do you think there is anywhere, in any language, a word billowing enough for the pleasure that fills you, as the sun reaches out, as it warms you as you stand there, empty-handed…”
here, back at home, in our adirondack-chaired backyard, we try to recover from covid. we move slowly, slower than the sun, with far less energy, far less potential at the moment. we review our time out west, looking at pictures, telling stories. we are in a strange fog right now – waiting for the sun of restored health to burn off the woozy.
we sleep, we eat bits of food, we hydrate, we sit outside. we write a bit. we scroll. we, unfortunately, are compelled to watch the news.
and it is as we watch the news of this election – as i think of the people who are supporting the madness of a candidate who has vowed retribution on the american people, i am stunned to my core that i know these people, these maga voters.
i am stunned that under the very sun that has graced each of us with warmth, with life itself, there are supporters who will elect this distorted human being with dreams of fascism in his blank eyes. i cannot imagine he has ever watched the sun rise or the sun set – for, if he has, he has lost the dream of what life itself is, what living together under the sun could be.
“or have you too turned from this world – or have you too gone crazy for power, for things?”
we entered the tranquility of sand dune arch. we had passed by sandstone discs of giant proportion, climbing into a slot that took us into the almost-hidden area tucked between towering rock formations. and suddenly, we were in the midst of graceful lines of years gone by, of weather that had formed gentle arches, softly curved stone, a garden area like no other.
if there was a designated female arch, this must be the queen of them all. such beauty, color, sunlight playing off sweeping angles. it was stunning. and in here, taking in all of this, the temperature – that was soaring in the nineties – was cooler. this was a place of serenity, of peace, of revitalizing, of comfort. it was, no doubt, one of my favorite spots in all of arches national park.
without fear, d and i stepped into the slot at the back of this courtyard of red rock. we slid along the narrow passageway until fallen rocks blocked our path. we marveled at what seemed frozen in time but was in reality ever-shifting, never static. we were truly in wonder.
there was a certain camaraderie as we stepped out of these discs, out of this beautiful sand-rock-garden. we spoke to other people, all amazed by the sheer power of this place. there were no lines drawn, no differences, no fingers pointed. it was utter embracing of the moments we had experienced. we were all thrilled to have experienced the kind of beauty into which we had stepped. together we tried to come up with superlatives that even just began to describe this place.
this is the america i understand.
the appreciative, the generous, the together.
it was quite a while before i scrolled after that. not only because scrolling in the car is motion-sick-worthy, but because i wanted to stay immersed in all we had seen, i wanted to stay wrapped in the beauty of this land. driving in the car and staring out the window gave me tiny insights into new places that studying my phone – and missing it – would not have afforded me. i wanted to stay in the america that I understood.
but time – like these red rock formations and arches and hoodoos and canyons – does not stay still. time is fluid and, in due time, we were back at our airbnb and checking in on our phones was of the moment.
and then, i was astounded by what i saw and read. and now, i am astounded by what i see and read.
this is not the america i understand.
this place – with half this country supporting a presidential candidate full of hatred and fascist intention – is not deserving of this beauty we were witnessing. this place – with a party claiming to wish to make america great again – pushing people under water, drowning fought-for freedoms, amplifying extreme bigotry and xenophobia, annihilating the rights of women and of the LGBTQ community, eliminating the ideals of democracy. it is dangerous. it is utter madness.
this is not the america I understand.
there are 63 national parks and 429 national park sites in these united states. there are innumerable state parks and tribal park sites. we visited 5 national parks, one state park, one tribal property. merely the tip of the iceberg, as they say. the sheer number of people viewing these beautiful places demonstrated a love of this land – by so many.
so how can one stand in a place so glorious – in this country – and have such an ugly heart as to align with the fascist ideals of a madman who surrounds himself with the most evil?
i don’t understand.
america, we are at a crisis point.
all the beauty put together – from across all our land – from every national park, every state park, every tribal or historic site, every everyplace under the sun from sea to shining sea – will not rejuvenate our democracy if we lose it in this election.
and no graceful arch, no sandstone hoodoo, no soaring mountain or bottomless canyon, no rippling stream or rushing river or glassy lake, no sunlight or moonlight or bluebird sky day will be able to change that.
