looking back on the 25th anniversary of september 11 i am struck at how viscerally profound it remains – in my heart, my mind, my body. not that i am surprised. it was an absolute day of terror – and none of us alive during it will ever forget.
scrolling anytime before, on or after the-day-25-years-later of these brutal attacks on our democracy, there are memes after memes on social media. person after person writing the words, “never forget!”
and that – i agree with.
but, many of the persons posting this are of a different political persuasion than me – many of them are carrying zealous pompoms for the current administration and for its undermining of this nation’s constitution.
so what – exactly – is it that those people are asking us not to forget about september 11, 2001?
is it how the country – and all its occupants – came together on that day – reaching out to each other, to help in the crisis, to comfort, to give aid, to stand with – regardless of any – ANY – differences?
is it how this country was helped by – and was grateful for – its allies in the time, the days, the months, the years after these hideous events?
is it how this nation’s people embraced each other, grateful to be alive, deeply grieving those whose lives were taken by this evil?
is it how there were adults in charge, who spoke eloquently and thoughtfully about the course of events, who made intelligent, well-advised decisions not based on impulsivity or gluttonous greed or narcissistic aggrandizing?
is it how the administration encouraged unity on the very day of these attacks: “this is a day when all americans from every walk of life unite in our resolve for justice and peace.“? (president bush)
is it how that president called for solidarity- instead of divisiveness – asking the country to put aside differences, support first responders, and stand together with resolve and shared purpose?
are these the things that the supporters of the current administration are talking about when they implore us to “never forget”?
because as i see it – their support of the heinousness of this administration means that they have already forgotten.
and in looking at what they are instead aligning themselves with, i say – with a heart, mind and body that remembers 9/11 – i dissent.
early in the morning that day i was supposed to get on a flight south. i didn’t. it didn’t fly as scheduled. nothing was as scheduled.
way before the sun set that day everything was different. terror had reared its hideously ugly head and nothing was as it had been.
it is hard to believe it has been twenty-five years. it is way too easy to conjure up the emotion and grief of that day and the days that followed.
it is hard to believe the destruction that happened that day, the profound loss of human life, the dismantling of safety and trust. but the images stay in our minds, clear as the day it happened.
it is hard to believe the incredibly unifying moments – moments when people helped other people regardless of any social or cultural or economic or religious difference between them, moments when people reached out in love and earnest compassion, moments when rescue, when keeping each other safe and restoring some sort of sanity was paramount.
it is hard to believe that the magnanimity, the unselfish generosity, the steadfast dedication shown by emergency personnel and regular people has not been the irrefutable north star of all the populace since.
but here we are. in a country with an administration where goodwill has fallen to hatred and revenge, inhumane treatment of the people of this land.
and here we are – instead of taking – for the long term, the long haul – the lessons of interdependency, of humanitarian aid, of selflessness in a time of disaster, of caring about every each other, of respecting life, this administration has successfully shed any idea of goodness or kindness, thrust aside any efforts at unity, promoted hatred and divisiveness leading to the dismantling of families and friendships, communities and workplaces. and we – as a country – have been unable to carry forward those very unifying moments of that day and the days that followed, resorting instead to discord and schisms of pronounced chasmic size.
and here we are – with the official white house website hosting gameware that indoctrinates the children of this nation to heinous cruelty and bigotry and xenophobia, promoting the extremist “policies” of an administration bent on destroying democracy. not to mention all the other psychotic, narcissistic, pathologically-lying social media posts.
and here we are – a country with an administration that is absolutely ignoring any inconvenient legislation of the nation’s constitution, intent upon all things harmful and hurtful – to its people, the land, the resources, the water, the food, the health, the education, living conditions, safety and security. intent on all things ruinous.
“what we learn from history is that people don’t learn from history.” (warren buffett)
it was extremist mindset that besieged this country on september 11, 2001.
it is extremist mindset now.
it is hard to believe.
but here we are.
let us not forget that we are still capable of choosing to be those people – the ones who hold space for grief and loss, who actually learn from history and who opt for unity and the greater good.
there are paper plates hanging on trees just off the sidewalk all over our ‘hood. they announce that there will be a fourth of july parade early on the 4th.
for all the years i have lived here – longer than i’ve lived anywhere – there has been a childrens’ bike and stroller parade on independence day here in allendale. we used to have jack andrea at the front of the parade, beating a snare drum – with everyone, all decked out in red, white and blue with decorated bikes and strollers and wagons, following along. a joyous time followed by ice cream on author florence parry heide’s front lawn (now, for years, moved to a different front lawn).
at some point our children became too grown-up to participate in this parade and it was handed down to the younger children in the neighborhood.
for years now, we haven’t participated in it, but it still holds an old-timey sense of charm for me and i still can feel the anticipatory glee of little children who get to be in a parade.
only this time – as the parade makes its way around the blocks – i worry about what is to come for those very little children. this time – though we are celebrating our democracy – i wonder how long it will hold. this time – though a 250th celebration should be a big deal – i have to sit it out – the glee, the charm, the excitement. this time i have deep concern about where it is this country is heading.
dogga is more and more bothered by the fireworks, so we will not be leaving him as they proliferate throughout the lakefront. as our boundary-less neighbors set off giant fireworks directly behind our house, we will try to shield dogga from the noise and flashing lights, from the fire in the trees and the sky.
i worry about the opossums, the raccoon babies and the birds and squirrels in the trees adjacent to those pyrotechnics and crackers that rock the house. i worry about the fallout of bits of firework that we find in our yard and on our patio, our deck, inevitably our roof, the next morning. i worry about the lack of regard to safety and – as it approaches the wee hours of the night – i wonder about the lack of respect for others.
what is it they are celebrating? i wonder. what is it we-the-people are passing on to our children, our childrens’ children?
what about our country – in these moments – in the throes of unprecedented corruption – is there to celebrate?
the purple allium is in the garden over behind the art center on the lake.
as much as i have enjoyed a good fireworks display – and even a hand-held sparkler from time to time – this time – this year – in this country’s current circumstances – on this paper plate holiday – i will just glance over at the striking allium – exploding in all its purple glory – and call it a day.
“these incredibly brave survivors speaking out about unspeakable things. it changes your entire f—ing life” (valerie bertinelli)
they were walking toward us slowly, pushing a walker, every now and then stopping to dance a little in place. it is hard not to jive to the EDM music – it sets your spirit free and makes you dance. our son and his collaborator were lighting a fire under a massive audience dancing on waveland and halsted at chicago’s PRIDEFEST.
i noticed their shirt.“i am somebody” it read. i nodded.
it was clear that this person was struggling with something that physically debilitated them, their gait awkward, their pain visible. still, they danced and smiled and fistpumped the air and all of us around them cheered. yes, i thought, you are indeed somebody.
yet this country is working on eliminating all kinds of help for the disabled: medicaid, healthcare, food assistance, education. conniving to make somebodies into nobodies.
the guy in the crowd was visibly upset. he didn’t just hug the people nearby, he clung to them, crying. something was moving him profoundly. i don’t know what it was. but every person near him was acknowledging these moments of catharsis, these moments when he – this somebody – needed their support and love.
i weaved through the tight crowd to get to the front of the stage while we were at milwaukee PRIDEFEST so that i could get close-up photographs of our son on stage. once at the edge of the stage – smushed – i started snapping pictures. the guy next to me turned and looked at me as i was feverishly snap-snap-snapping and said, “this is my first time at pride!” he was elated, joy beaming from his face. it clearly meant the world to him to be there – celebrating – for the first time – maybe being openly authentic in public – for the first time. i was thrilled for him and we hugged. he took out a big handheld fan and fanned me while i – in the humid heat of the pavilion – took more photos. he sought me out in the crowd a few more times, every time this somebody glowing, this giant crowd of people embracing him.
and the administration of this nation – in a disgusting display of homophobia beyond the pale – is going after the very rights of the LGBTQIA community, rabidly seeking to foist their own version of love and sexuality upon all.
in recent days i have read a post with passionately evil words beyond what i can even describe nor care to describe. it was written about alex pretti and renee good. both somebodies who were doing the right thing against horrifically extremist deportation intent. these young people – the same ages as our daughter – lost their lives at the hands of this government. these somebodies who deserve to be here still, living, breathing, celebrating and – yes – constitutionally pushing back.
and now – beyond the evil intentions already in place – in an unconscionable decision by the supreme court, hundreds of thousands of real-live somebodies will likely be hunted down, merely for the beautiful brown color of their skin, a product of where they are from, where they have escaped, from which they have sought legal asylum.
and the statue of liberty in the new york harbor reads, “give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free…”
your somebodies.
i just read an article about a woman in texas suffering from a miscarriage. she sought medical assistance only to be turned away twice at hospitals afraid to treat her because of the unbelievably extensive abortion ban. doctors were fearful to help her. her condition worsened and, though it is not hyperbolic to say that many women can experience acute distress from the complications of miscarriage, they still did nothing.
this nation is actively seeking – and succeeding in – limiting the rights of women as they seek care for their own bodies, unconscionably imperiling them. somebodies.
i have watched the epstein survivors many times now, speaking out about the atrocities they endured – at the hands of so many heinous people who have not been brought to justice, whose culpability slips into oblivion as institutions – with twisted mission – protect them. i could feel their pain, their frustration, their horror at the culture of complicity, of silence, of irresponsibility, of unconcern, of sloughing them off. and in those moments i have whispered to them how very much a somebody they each are and how very much they count.
“it happened. it was wrong. it matters.” (deborah tuerkheimer – credible: why we doubt accusers and protect abusers)
i can so relate. i, too, am a somebody.
“…brave survivors speaking out about unspeakable things…”
so many unspeakable things.
changing entire lives.
it’s all too much.
we are ALL somebodies.
“we hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. –that to secure these rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, –that whenever any form of government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the right of the people to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their safety and happiness.” (from: preamble to the united states declaration of independence)
somebody.
somebodies.
“…you are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here…(max ehrmann – desiderata)
in a diverse cross-section of life, i sat at the round table – one of fifteen such tables in the room. there are chairs, too, but not enough to accommodate all the people in the room, waiting.
it is a waiting place.
it is a jury room…and the hundred-twenty-five or so people gathered there all held a little orange card with their panel number on it.
it was a strange time to be serving jury duty, for more than one reason. the climate in this country does not seem to be one where the law is upheld, where the court is respected. and the ultimate court, those supreme justices, seem to be strangling the constitution at every turn. it is disconcerting.
i take this responsibility seriously. i’ve been on jury duty twice before. the first time i was merely 18 and in new york, called for two weeks. the second time i lived where i live now – and i, likely, sat in this same room as i waited for the high sign about my duty. that time i was sent home the first day. this next time, i was one of about 40 who remained in the room…
…and so we waited.
eventually we were told that cases had settled and that there would be no jury trials, that we could go home. i admit to being relieved, for i had much on my plate that might have precluded me from being the best juror i could be. and i believe that one must be the best juror one can be. in every single case.
and so as i look at the most recent decisions of the highest court of the land – the jurists above all others, i am appalled. how are these decisions upholding the united states constitution? how are these decisions aligning with the touted compassionate nature of this country? the empathy gap is extraordinary; the rhetoric of this political polarizing is aggressive and downright cruel beyond imagination. how is this the best these supreme judges can be?
it is utterly shameful.
another waiting place.
i hope for a profound watershed moment. i hope for the sun to come back out – to find its way, to wipe away the sickening darkness that has fallen upon our country. i hope for people to actually be the best versions of themselves – to use good moral conscience, to have compassion, to care about their sisters and brothers in the country and in the world, regardless of any social identifiers. i hope for this despicable time in the history of this country to end, for our nation to honestly examine how it got here, for people to honestly examine how their hearts embraced this bigotry and extremism. i hope to eradicate all that is choking off our democracy’s true potential so that it can be the best it can be, so that we can be the best we can be.
the question “when does it cease being a peony?” never occurs to me. because it never ceases being a peony. it is intrinsic, even as its extrinsic identity falls – petal by petal – to the ground.
the storms came. and wind and heavy rain. and the peonies bowed to them. the blooms were large – triumphant pink – but couldn’t withstand and, though some blossoms remained intact, many began to lose their velvet petals as the deluge let up and the sun came out.
there was not a peony on that entire plant, though, that was not still a beautiful peony. even with pistil exposed, with stamen missing, with wrinkled or missing petals. through the storm – and after – it remained – drumroll – a peony.
the storm has been brewing. apparently, there is more to the storm than i understood – as i now realize that there has been much in the history of our country i did not learn – so much was about teaching to the test we missed the dualistic humanity of the narrative. the story is not so innocent; the intentions are not so magnanimous. there is much malevolence in the story of this country and current events are mimicking the evil of earlier times.
but the democracy has been in place now for two hundred and fifty years.
yet, devastatingly, we celebrate america’s birthday just as we are watching the takedown of america’s freedoms, laws, its very constitution.
when does it cease being a democracy?
that question had never before occurred to me with such a sense of urgency. until now.
now i am worried.
the peony is a peony any and all times because it has the heart of a peony. it is nothing else. it hasn’t been anything else. it won’t be anything else.
this reminds me of the song lyrics: “what goes up must come down/spinnin wheel gotta go round/talkin ’bout your troubles is a crying sin/ride a painted pony, let the spinnin’ wheel spin….” (david clayton-thomas). spinning wheel is a late 60s song – popular by blood, sweat and tears.
john denver’s quote is likely from ten to twenty years later: “things go up and down. if you can survive the down it will come back.”
both encourage holding on for the long haul – which is precisely what we need right now. to survive.
though as i write this, i am pondering the wisdom in simply riding a painted pony and letting the spinning wheel spin. we need something different now. inaction in these times is not survival. it is how a democracy perishes.
it is a bit like the recent flippant current-administration quote “just sit back and relax. it will all work out well in the end – it always does.”
for who?
that makes my skin crawl.
every single day the new news astonishes us and, yeah, doesn’t astonish us. it’s always more of the same – gluttony, cruelty, bigotry, corruption – exhibited and acted on by people in positions for which they have no credentials but for sycophantic loyalty.
sitting back and relaxing because it will be well in the end is merely complicity. it’s going down with the ship without even trying. to go down and to not come back.
the words “it will work out well” are suspect. they are the cavalier words of a dictator. and, in a twist of twists, these are the words – the recommendation – of the leader of the free world.
is this really where two hundred fifty years has brought us?
we ordered small plate tapas. later, they brought birthday churros to our table. there was a candle – lit – and though the server was a bit shy – he seemed really happy to singto me. it was totally delightful. we dipped our churros into the melted chocolate and sweet powdered sugar, sipped our homemade sangria.
there was just one thing.
i found myself grimacing at the blue candle with the stars. it felt a bit too reminiscent of the stars and stripes of this country’s flag. right now i, like many others, have a complicated relationship with that flagand what it supposedly stands for.
because birthdays are like that, my mind zoomed backwards to standing in elementary school classrooms reciting the pledge of allegiance.
“i pledge allegiance to the flag of the united states of america. and to the republic for which it stands, one nation, under god, with liberty and justice for all.”
and here we were. in the walker point neighborhood of milwaukee – a wonderfully diverse community – diverse in race, in gender identification, in economics. i was welcomed and, just as every other time we have spent in this community, we felt at home. one nation, under god.
sometimes, in our elementary music class, we would sing the patriotic ballad:
“my country ’tis of thee / sweet land of liberty / of thee i sing/ land where my fathers died / land of the pilgrims’ pride / from every mountainside / let freedom ring.” (samuel francis smith)
sweet land of liberty. with lyrics written 195 years ago, a children’s choir first performed this song. what would those children be thinking now?
trying to slough away any negativity, i tried to think of the stars on the candle like stars-as-in-stardust. but the blue of the candle got in my way and as much as i loved having a birthday candle with my churros, i couldn’t help not being able to push back against the other realities right now – the realities that this country – at this time – is not a sweet land of liberty and freedom is not ringing from every mountainside.
as i am writing this – ahead of when you are reading it – i just now read that the supreme court has ruled against a ban on conversion therapy aimed at lgbtq youth in colorado. read that again: against a ban on conversion therapy.
and as i am writing this – ahead of when you are reading it – the “god squad” panel of the cabinet has voted to disregard decades-old laws about endangered species in the gulf in order to make.more.money drilling, the GOD squad?! ewww.
and as i am writing this – ahead of when you are reading it – the administration has decided to dismantle the united states forest service.
and as i am writing this – ahead of when you are reading it – the epstein files continue to languish in secrecy and the administration is doing everything in its power to keep it that way – including even more blatantly personalizing the efforts of the justice department.
and as i am writing this – ahead of when you are reading it – the supreme court has taken up considering the continuance of the 14th amendment of birthright citizenship. “…granting citizenship to all persons born or naturalized in the United States…” ” no state shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States; nor shall any state deprive any person of life, liberty or property, without due process of law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws.”
and as i am writing this – ahead of when you are reading it – this country – without permission of the congress or support of the populace – is destroying another – using bracing descriptor words like “decimating” and “decapitating” and “lethality” and “back to the stone ages“.
but, well, i guess when you are cavalier and righteous – and corrupt – you do what you want to whomever and whatever you wish. no questions asked. no answers given.
that doesn’t seem to be the right answer for a republic with liberty and justice for all.
i sometimes save birthday candles. to remember. but i need – and wish for – a new relationship with the flag – a revival of the celebration of diversity and majesty of this place on the globe – so this particular stars-on-a-blue-field candle i chose to remember with a couple photographs.
one lit – with light.
one after i made a wish and blew it out.
we ate several churros and our server gave us a box for the rest.
we brought them home and – having our leftover tapas the next day – celebrated this little bistro in our very big land, longing for its healing.
“light of the world / shine on me / love is the answer / shine on us all / set us free / love is the answer…” (john wilcox/roger powell/kasim sulton/todd rundgren)
it was not warm. at all. though the sun was out, the wind was off the lake and it was a bit brutal.
we huddled in a small cluster in and amongst a lot of other people, all gathered together to rise above the chaos that is this country.
our presence counted. we were merely two in the eight million or more who came out to the protests on saturday. with our little posse we were six.
and here is what i know.
i know that our energy – our very presence at this event – was part of an energy that strove to overcome the inertia of shock and utter dismay of the populace of this nation. our energy – our very presence at this event – is a statement of pushback that echoes across this land. our energy – our very presence at this event – is part and parcel of the responsibility as a citizen of this republic, of the protection of its democracy, of holding truth to power.
what will happen now will ride on the compounded energy of these efforts. what will happen now will be aided by the acknowledgement that we are part of an aggregate aghast at the illegality of this administration. what will happen now will spread in concentric circles and multiply like cells birthing new life – this time to an aggrieved nation. what will happen now will happen because of hope and dedication, fortitude and the steadying words of the united states constitution and its amendments. what will happen now will be a continuing consolidation of pushback against authoritarianism.
but it’s not the endgame. it is merely the energy of movement, of activism, a path into resistance.
it’s a lot to take in, we agreed, as we held vigil later that day, watching – on tv and social media – the protests across the country. it’s a lot of change to hope for, we worried, as we talked about how fast the latest destruction had happened. it’s exhausting and invigorating – both – we sighed from under a throw as we watched.
but the thing we were glad for?
that on a blustery blue-sky day we walked to the protest and were present in the midst of everyone else there.
instead of taking a shopping bag with us when we shopped, she did the opposite. it seemed to work – we’d find the things we were looking for when we did not have the shopping bag.
instead of taking an umbrella for the impending rain, she’d take an umbrella to quell the rain. that also worked much of the time.
it was sort of like the opposite of preparedness. manifesting what she wished for, staving off the rain, inviting the bargains – all seemingly achieved by opposite actions. even though my sweet momma was a staunch girl scout supporter and volunteer – with the motto “be prepared” – she also exercised her own juju as she went about life.
though i laugh when i think about it – and have told d about these itsy-bitsy quirks of my mom (unlike me – with no quirks at all – teehee) – i tend to take the polar opposite action. i put the umbrella in my backpack. i take the fold-up shopping bag. i put snacks in my purse. i tuck duct tape and tools, extra oil and blankets into our old vehicles. and i bring the phone charger when we leave home for any destination, event or activity over an hour away.
so when we saw the weather report that issued wind warnings – which we and our new electric mast can now certainly attest to – we brought in the windchimes. they are really beautiful and their soulful, resonant sound is of reassurance to us from the backyard, so we did not want them harmed by the coming winds. we often take off the clapper if the weather is too gusty, but this time d brought the whole kit-n-kaboodle inside. we both felt better seeing them safely on the rug in the sunroom. just a small action, but a nod to being prepared for what was on its way, to protecting their value to us.
it’s hard – extremely hard – not to take these little lessons we have all learned along the way and apply them to the present-day in our country. it feels like utter chaos, with no real preparation, no real plan, nothing but self-serving agenda reeling around and running the show. it is utterly exhausting.
we are in the very tiny lull in the middle of the blizzard that started last evening. radar shows that we are in this small white blob in the middle of a gigantic blue blizzard field. soon the snow and the winds will start howling again; it is to go on for several more hours. the gusty sleet pummeled the windows last night as i worried about trees and power lines and electric poles and new electric masts. we take a deep breath, getting ready for the rest.
it temporarily took my mind off of war and mass deportation, healthcare and social safety net programs and exponentially rising costs, extremism and voter disenfranchisement, a justice system and leadership sycophants hiding blatant sex-trafficking, abject cruelty and an absolute lack of regard for fellow humans complete with disdain for any social differentiation.
i don’t know what that all says about preparedness. it certainly raises some outraged emotions. i do feel like “they” have been preparing for years – stoking up hatred and bigotry to the gills – conniving and in cahoots with the richest – and clearly most cavalier – people in the world – with the dedication and commitment to take over everything. they have prepared. and they have not prepared. they have plans and they shoot from the hip. they are the wind blasts and they are surprised by the pushback and the guards against the battering wind.
the wind last night kept me awake. because i know what can happen. and i want to protect us from all that harm.
why is it that so many in this country’s leadership seem to care so little about how battered this country is becoming? where are the checks and balances on this administration? how is complicity so rampant? how is it that there are so many citizens who seem to care less about being in the middle of this storm – the unbelievable corruption, the outrageous grift, the isolation, taunting the rest of the world, the clear attempt of authoritarian takeover? is there no natural tendency within them to protect the country – our cherished country – from all that harm?
what is the value of this country, its democracy, its people, and its laws to all of us?
i glance over at the treasured pipes on the rug. knowing that soon we’ll hang them back in the tree and the chimes will once again float in the air, i’m grateful we took precautions to keep them from being destroyed.
the question “when does it cease being a peony?” never occurs to me. because it never ceases being a peony. it is intrinsic, even as its extrinsic identity falls – petal by petal – to the ground.
