our daughter sent a text message which read, “i recommend not going outside today.”
the air quality indexes (indices) in our general area – stretching from milwaukee down to chicago – were off the charts. smoke from wildfires in northern minnesota and canada had arrived – on top of heat indexes (indices) well over 100 degrees. it was a bit much.
i could – now – go off about climate change denial, the denial of global warming, the denial that humans are responsible for the extreme weather pattern changes, the denial that sustainable energy is clean energy, the denial that wind, geothermal, water, solar power are all positive innovations that make a generative difference in caring for our mother earth.
i could – now – go off about those perpetuating the destruction that is caused by fossil fuels, propping up cohorts with unthinkably large investments in coal, gas and oil, stripping protected lands of protection to mine and drill and clear-cut, ignoring conservation efforts and wildlife habitats, unburdening the current administration from anything conscience-driven relative to the relationship between humanity and our mother earth.
our daughter lives in the high mountains of colorado where no matter which way you turn it is a stunning view. just standing still in this grand, glorious space makes you feel rejuvenated.
in last weeks, she, too, has been dealing with the intense hazards of fire and smoke. she is a healthy and strong young woman, adept at all manner of high-mountain-raging-whitewater-river-red-rock adventures and challenges. but in these past weeks, it made her sick to just be outside.
i cannot imagine what this means for wildlife. i cannot imagine what this means for health-compromised people. i cannot imagine what this means for older folks or small children, for infants. i cannot imagine what this means for the next generations on our mother earth.
it doesn’t take an expert to know that we must get proactive, that we must guard for the future, that we must push back on the absolutely irresponsible.
unless, of course, we don’t want to go outside anymore.
three million acres is no small thing. three million acres that were protected. three million acres that were grand staircase-escalante and bears ears national monuments. three million acres now open for business.
gluttony is alive and well in this nation.
it’s absolutely sickening.
and the dragon in the sky roared – fire coming from its mouth. because “these remarkable curiosities [ ] have required all the cunning skill of nature thousands of years to prepare.” (the house committee on public lands – circa 1871)
and it brings me back to this, to which i have arrived before: reverence.
they have no reverence.
and today – a few days before you will read this – the land around the boundary waters is on fire. photographs depict enormous infernos. it is all burning up.
and in colorado – fossil-fuel-fueled-climate-change wildfire in beautiful forests and on mountains and racing across open land.
and alaska and utah and florida and the pacific northwest and the southwest and the northeast and…
and major flooding in missouri, in texas.
and the mid-atlantic east coast and the southeast and the northeast and…
and cyclospora making its way into the food and water of americans across the nation. no lettuce and no berries and no produce and…
and people – on their way to work – executed by government officials who – mistakenly – identified them as targets.
and war.
and insane announcements eliminating medical research.
and social programs.
and voting rights.
and the decimation of wildlife protections.
and military spending way, way, way over the top.
and public adoration of brutal authoritarian figures by this administration.
and heartless sycophants, a conscience-less cheering squad, a team dedicated to the destruction of democracy.
and all manner of evil intentions.
no wonder there is a dragon in the sky. i can’t imagine how pissed the universe is.
it’s sunday morning as i write this. with our coffee and the sunrise, we started our morning watching an rei video called “the life we have”, an intensely moving documentary that follows rob shaver, the subtitle of which reads, “mortality, movement and the richness of being alive.” too big.
by the end we were both crying. tears streaming down our faces. sniffly noses. the tightness in your chest when you are trying hard not to just out and out sob.
and then we just sat – holding tightly onto each other under our quilt and comforters – cold morning air coming in the window, sun streaming in the other side. we were quiet.
we stirred from our stillness. x’ed out of that youtube. and stared at the screen that presented many, many options of other videos to watch, most of which had something to do with the current administration – which – in absolutely no way at all – could ever begin to demonstrate the respect for life that this video we had just viewed did. seeing the faces of those involved in this vileness made me sick to my stomach – again. the juxtaposition was well beyond striking. it was monumental.
we sat in wisconsin’s oldest operating theatre – the 1915 downer in milwaukee – the scent of popcorn wafting everywhere. it was our first time to this theatre, but i daresay not our last.
we were there to see the documentary GASLIT, a movie – directed by katie camosy -shining the light on how the pervertedly-swollen oil and gas industry “impacts the land, air, water and human lives.” it is practically too big to write about.
jane fonda – one of the producers as well as activist and narrator – says, “it’s about injustice, pollution, and the destruction of entire communities.” the destruction and profiteering by those hoarding big-money – the gluttonous – is unconscionable. we were so sickened – so outraged – when the movie was over we couldn’t move for minutes. out of body, feeling like we were living in surreal times, we struggled our way out of the theatre and walked down the street, catching our breath, trying – again – not to cry.
sacrifice zones are areas of this country – the united states of america – where big money has decided that the people, the town, their homes – all of it – are worthy of being sacrificed. big money – like this current administration cheerleading for more fossil fuels, eliminating clean energy projects, drilling, drilling, drilling and decimating natural lands – including parklands – has decided that they can decide where people – PEOPLE – are not worth it…are disposable…that they can be sacrificed in order to benefit the extraction and production of dirty carcinogenic fuels and petrochemicals. toxic communities, cancer alleys, not fit for habitation, everything that is alive affected. they are disgracefully and deliberately created. activists describe these places as “the wrong complexion for protection”. what in the absolute hell?! this is the united states of america and this is a priority of its current administration…one of many revolting atrocities in their sick cauldron of intention. it is sinister wickedness.
we backed away from the youtube panel of choices this morning. the faces of such self-consumed, twisted corruption were just too much for us.
i spun the outer band of the fidget spinner ring we got at peacetree. it brought me back to the words of rob shaver, the life of a man who is just trying to live: “it’s literally just a choice daily. to live deeply and thoroughly and with beautiful effort. not for results, not for money or fame or lifestyle, but for the richness of being alive.”
that there is what the current leadership of this country – this place that purports to care about the life, liberty and pursuit of happiness of all its people – every last freaking person – will never ever get.
ever.
and yet, that leadership – lacking the wisdom that gratitude for sheer life bestows upon those who choose to be grateful – dares to decide who can be sacrificed.
there is nothing like fierce winds, torrential sleet, and a blizzard to get your adrenaline going. it’s been a minute since a bit of quiet.
so monday morning – as we gratefully sat under our comforters and quilt and sipped coffee – the sound of red-winged blackbirds in our pine tree was like a symphony – significantly even more moving, at this moment, than listening to the ode to joy finale of beethoven’s 9th symphony.
we were in the aftermath.
even with the bits of destruction we experienced and unexpected – but necessary – expensive repairs – some already made and some on the ever-present maintenance docket – we felt the change and we rested in the sound of birds who had essentially disappeared during the chaotic weather.
the sun came out, we saw a bit of blue sky.
we took a breath.
there will be other storms.
some will be weather, some will be personal challenges, some will be directly connected to the state of this country.
and for any of it – for all of it – we need to gear up.
so – for right now – the sun, calm winds, melting snow, a few comforters and a quilt, coffee and the birds of our backyard will all help. they stoke up the fortitude, endurance and resilience we all have and we all draw on, the fragile crossing from destruction to recovery.
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 heat dome has driven us to this place – under the steps in the basement – back past the really big bin with roller blades and tennis rackets and a kickball and badminton set – where there are a few old window air conditioners.
we pulled one out and installed it – just like last year – in the dining room window.
but this heat dome is incessant and suffocatingly hot – particularly in our old house – a house with charming radiators but no duct work for central air.
so we went back on the prowl under the steps, specifically looking for a slimmer-lined air conditioner i remembered from decades earlier.
we found it a little further back – in the spider web zone – and pulled it out to plug it in and test it before any attempt at installation.
written in sharpie on the pull-out filter was “1999” and as i washed it i pondered how we might make the air conditioner work. both accordion pleat side wings were broken and, clearly, the unit was far too old for which to find replacement parts.
we put on our thinking caps.
after a couple of hours of rube-goldberg-ing a set of wings we uninstalled from a different broken unit – to applause by my dad – who was seemingly guiding us from the other dimension – we used a combination of 2×4, hand towel and black foam to brilliantly – and in a clearly, umm, aesthetically pleasing way – install the air conditioner in our bedroom window.
it occurred to us – during both the thinking-cap-period and the period-of-installation – that we did not know if this unit might be leaking coolant – which could be unhealthy. but, after research and some deductive reasoning, realized that the cool air pumping out of the unit belied any leak and that we were – likely – safe. (though, of course, i would be checking in on any and all physical displays of freon poisoning we might exhibit.)
problem presented. problem solved.
in the cool flow of air circulating somewhat noisily around our house – aided by ceiling and standing fans – our thinking returned to the real problem at hand – one of the reasons we literally were determined to make a thirty-plus year old air conditioner work instead of investing several hundred dollars into a new one.
the real problem? the decimation of this country.
while we watch the current administration completely destroy the safety nets, the healthcare, the retirement, the rights and freedoms of millions and millions and millions of people they clearly don’t give a damn about, while we watch congress completely – sickeningly toadyingly – abdicate their responsibility to we-the-people while revering upping-the-ante cruelty, while the republican supreme court justices horrifyingly and repeatedly make the jump from objectivity to capitulation, while we reel in shock at the rapid descent into fascist, authoritarian ideology, while safety and any security is completely undermined, we wonder what will happen.
and my sweet dad – this man who served this country in the second world war, who was shot down, missing in action and taken prisoner of war, who never fully recovered from the post-traumatic stress he voluntarily experienced to aid this country and its experiment of democracy – this man hasn’t a clue on how to guide us.
it captured my attention – not only because it was visually interesting, but maybe also because it was the day after the hands-off protest we had attended.
the vine aggressively climbing up this tree reminded me of a snake – like a boa constrictor – winding, wrapping, attempting to suffocate its prey.
and that reminded me – merely a hop, skip and a jump away in my mind – of what is happening in this country right now.
we are being suffocated.
in the middle of the noise, the middle of the reeling, the middle of hideous stories, unthinkable images, the blah-blah-blah of the corrupt, walking in the sickness of this leadership, there is an insidious vine wrapping its way around the throat of democracy.
and – it is likely the quietest parts about which we should be most angst-ridden.
for while all the hoopla is going on, while we are participating in their shell-game, while there are too many fires to extinguish, they are deftly filling the gaps of what they are suffocating-to-death with the deranged and dangerous dreams of power and control.
and before we know it, the beautifully diverse american family tree that had stood so steadfastly in the forest will be overshadowed by the choking vine of autocracy, the darkness of fascism, stifling adversity. democracy uprooted and smothered.
as i pass by the vined tree in the woods – just off the narrow trail – i realize there is much to be done.
we must eradicate the vines, remove the roots and prevent regrowth – all while minimizing damage to the tree. and we must be vigilant, watching for any new vines that emerge from the dirt.
i read through the lyrics of the star spangled banner, america the beautiful, my country ’tis of thee. i read the words on the statue of liberty. and i read 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.”
this administration is peeling back the layers of democracy. as the nucleus of this republic – in dead center – stands naked and utterly vulnerable – we continually wonder if this absolute and vile destruction is what you wanted.
if it is, this is no longer your pledge.
because – republic (noun): a state in which supreme power is held by the people and their elected representatives, and which has an elected or nominated president rather than a monarch. (oxford)
because – republic: a form of government where power is held by the people, either directly or through elected representatives…a system where the citizens hold the ultimate authority…the government is expected to serve the interests of all citizens. (AI)
and then i re-read the declaration of independence, stunned by the sheer number of current parallels written into this noble historic document. and these words: “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, serving their just powers from the consent of the governed.”
nevertheless, it is getting darker and darker here.
and so i whisper the lyrics of irving berlin as a prayer: “god bless america, land that i love. stand beside her and guide her through the night with the light from above.” (irving berlin, 1918)
“you need to stay in balance, she said. “if you read what is happening in this country and in the world, you need to spend the same amount of time doing something peaceful.”
it is impossible. to balance it all out. the detonized bomb that is this new administration is – fast and furiously – destroying this country. all in the wasteful, abusive, fraudulent name of waste, abuse and fraud.
i hardly know what to say.
it is all beyond comprehension.
it is pure evil.
“waste, abuse, fraud. waste, abuse, fraud. waste, abuse, fraud,” the conscience-free administration repeats time and time and time again.
it feels somewhat risky to write this ahead. who knows what will have taken place between when i am writing and the day this blog publishes. it all seems a downward spiral, a tornado of ruin. i shudder to think about next week as i write this today. and the next week. and the next. and the next year. and the next. and the next. and the next.
i feel fortunate – and now, with the perspective of the day, even more fortunate – to have lived – until now – in a country that has functioned as a democracy. my sweet poppo – a POW in WWII – fought against the very peril we are now facing. even with all its failings, with all the grappling for equality, with the what-seems-continual fight for freedoms and rights, we have not been in a place where we are segregating ourselves from the rest of the world, where leaders are distortedly centric, maniacal and extreme, where we had to fear for our future – day by excruciating day – as we watch the dismantling of our very republic.
and now, here we are.
and – once again – i look to all the people who voted for this disaster and ask, “is this what you wanted?”
and, i would add the question, “why?”
it is most difficult for me to comprehend the glee of the moment for those who support all this. it is most difficult for me to grok how people wish so much harm for other people. it is most difficult for me to understand how this storm makes them happy, makes them feel successful, makes them feel even remotely human.
what tornado – what grey cloud of torturous destruction – ever brought any good into the world?
reverse threading 