and even the ice has a spine.
which is far, far less than i can honestly say right now about the majority of representatives serving us in this country.
spine. less.
what more is there to say?
less is definitely not more.
*****
read DAVID’s thoughts this FLAWED WEDNESDAY
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though i didn’t sign up for it, i receive emails from a source called uncover words. in the middle of the middle of all the chaos and destruction of this country, this is the word that i received one day recently: addle.
i could not help but grimace at the timing.
addle: to confuse or muddle; to make unable to think clearly.
gee…i wonder who that could describe.
might it be people who are being tossed around as if they are at the end of a crack-the-whip – flung from one inane or juicy-gossipy topic to another in an effort to cover up the really important things that are taking place in this country? might it be people who are absolutely and completely averse to fact-checking, to looking up anything that might distort their cultist admiring view of the current administration? might it be people who have been propagandized into sheer ignorance by watching a news channel that is overtly dedicated to the pedestalizing of this same administration? might it be people whose base anger has made them into spitting, spewing hate mongers? might it be people who react before thinking, who yell before talking, who see only red even when it brings harm to their very own families, people in their own communities?
to addle.
addled.
lost.
a second word in that email was maunder. maunder is a verb. it means to talk in a rambling manner, to wander aimlessly in speech or thought.
wow. that seems contemporaneously and politically connected to “addled”.
to maunder.
the addled.
to maunder to the addled.
to make the lost more lost.
hmmm.
a third word that came on that email was this: effulgence.
effulgence is a noun that is defined as: a brilliant radiance; a shining forth.
an auspicious word.
using that in a sentence:
let’s hope there is an effulgence that might awaken the addled among us.
yes.
otherwise, we are destined for this country’s democracy to be entirely mauled by a maunderer with a dedication to depraved darkness – the opposite of effulgence – while the shockingly addled stand by, complicit.
*****
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in silhouette – in the trees against the sky – it was difficult to tell if they were starlings or grackles. the identifying characteristics like feather, head, leg or beak color fly in the face of the silhouette. tail length and body shape can be discerning factors as well as their bird calls or the raucous sound that they make while hanging out in trees together. but – at these moments that we were photographing them – they were quiet and, though i might lean toward starling – because of their general body shape and tail – i’m really not sure. plus, starlings and grackles and blackbirds all often mingle together, so it can be hard to distinguish one from the other.
what i do know is that it doesn’t matter. they were beautiful all perched in the trees and it’s a marvel to look up and see sooo many birds, resting and waiting before they move on.
we are coming ever closer to the changeover in the administration of our government. it feels like we are getting a little bit quiet in waiting. there is so much chaos that can happen quickly and this morning we talked about who will stand in integrity to push back against it all, who will be decent, who will abide by the laws of the land, who will be responsible advocates for humanity – the absence of which will perpetuate a chaos of insane proportion.
were we all to be seen in silhouette perhaps there would be more likelihood that we might all be treated equally, that people would not be disenfranchised or marginalized because of pigmentation or gender or ethnicity or sexual orientation or socioeconomic status or any other differentiating thing.
if we had to squint to try and make out the details of each other and – still then – think that we are all basically the same – for silhouettes – and yes, people – are like that – maybe this country could be a better place.
i shudder thinking about what’s coming. it makes me feel sick to my stomach.
i wonder when wisdom might return. the meanwhile is going to be a shameful place.
if you’re looking for me, i’ll be in the tree communing with the birds. you’re certainly welcome to hang out. they say birds of a feather flock together. any feather.
*****
read DAVID’S thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY
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we move forward in this new year – attending to the processes of democracy and this nation’s constitution. we pass by the sixth of january.
“four years ago, a few thousand insurrectionists attempted to disregard the laws of this nation for a single career criminal. and what they could not accomplish then in the capitol rotunda, 77 million americans now have at the voting booth: the voices of our forebears have been rendered silent, the protections of our constitution have been destroyed, and a convicted felon, adjudicated rapist, and wannabe dictator has been given the keys to the kingdom.” (john pavlovitz)
if that is not prickly, i don’t know what is.
once upon a time, back in the day, there was a sexual predator. he was charming and indubitably well-versed at preying on young women. he started by grooming – paying undue attention to these young women – even girls – who were far younger than he, gifting them, serenading them with song and words that – clearly – meant nothing. because he was well-practiced, it did not take him long to go from zero to sexual abuse – his deflowering count blossoming. and then – post-conquest – he would quickly discard that conquest – another young woman who was forever-devastatingly-changed – and move on to the next. he was never punished for any of his crimes nor was he ever held accountable. the misogynistic men who knew and who should have handled the crimes of this crony-of-theirs stayed silent, a peer group of complicity, continuing to enable him. he still walks about freely here in these united states. for decades.
prickly, eh?
and here we are – decades later – nearly half a century since the time of this one devastating story among millions of such stories – and we have not moved any further along. as a matter of fact, we have now elected a misogynistic sexual abuser – with his own bevy of complicit lawless cronies – to the highest office of the land.
it’s just like the story from back in the day. interesting how little has changed. only – now – 77 million people are part of the story – who not only stayed silent but became a part of the enabling – who stamped their wholehearted approval and voted him in – a man liable for sexual abuse.
if you don’t feel prickly about that, i don’t know what’s wrong with you. because your embrace of violence – your ignorance, pushing this newsy news aside – your lack of morality – your perpetuating of this travesty – your complicity – has placed every single woman in this country in peril.
in the way that conditional if-then statements work, that would all condense to: if you voted for him then you are culpable.
pretty prickly.
“we don’t coddle our kids when they spew nonsense or think the truth is irrelevant. we correct them.” (rex huppke)
or – as history and the present show – we let them walk free and even make them president.
“the decision to put someone like [him] back in the most powerful position in america should be embarrassing. it wasn’t.” (rex huppke)
prickly as all hell.
*****
read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY
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so another week goes by. and now there are 45 days left.
45 days to discern – really think through – your vote in this election-of-elections.
45 days to determine what is most important to you…not in a singular policy kind of way…but in an overarching sense of what you would like this country to look like in the future…not only for you…but for all who follow you.
responding to our cartoon about the insanity that is the maga platform, she wrote, “they do see and they don’t care. … it’s all about hate and control … hidden within the guise of old-fashioned values and going back to the good old days.”
and it clearly doesn’t matter to them how they get there – with truth or with lies – to the nirvana of their good old days – a nirvana of patriarchal, misogynistic, racist, xenophobic, extremist, nationalistic, bigoted values (to use the word values loosely and without the virtue of meaning).
we take turns ranting. sometimes we participate in each other’s rant. sometimes we are quiet. because, frankly, sometimes it is all pretty suffocating.
if i were to rant right here, this is what i would say:
be aware of what you linger on, for there are many distractions out there, veering you off the real issues at hand. be purposeful in your research and in your discernment. be wary of what you believe, what you purport, what you amplify that you believe in. be mindful of the words you choose, for once they are in the air they are there for all time. be selfless as you consider the future of this country’s democracy. think about the words of the declaration of independence, “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.” linger on the words all and equal, for regardless of your race, gender, orientation, economic privilege or lack, religion, you are the same as the next person..no more, no less. remember you are in control of your vote and, as a citizen of this nation, it is incumbent upon you to vote clearheadedly and in good conscience. and, before you vote, in those moments before you take pen to paper, maybe recite these words, “e pluribus unum” – out of many, one. be vigilant of who you elevate to the highest position in our this-land-is-your-land-this-land-is-my-land.
in cris’ words, “don’t relinquish your brain at the door.”
there are 45 days before you cross the threshold of the door into the room where your pen will hit the paper. bring your brain – and your heart – with you.
*****
read DAVID’s thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING
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i am a hardware store junkie. there’s a certain joie de vivre found in the midst of an ace, maybe even – on their best days – in a lowes or a home depot. but ace hardware. that’s the stuff. the smell of fertilizer assails you upon entry and you are transported to another place – a magical place – where you could wander for long periods of time, gazing at tools, watering cans, market umbrellas, weber grill accessories, birdfeeders, alligator extendo-backscratchers, benjamin moore paint chips, no-idea-what-they-are-but-nonetheless-fascinating-thingamajigs. magical. and, in that place, it’s just too easy for two artists to dream.
they are having a big sale on backyard umbrellas. the kind you can tilt. perfect for a patio space that begs the reading of a book while lounging on an adirondack chair. we are pondering. brick red seems like a great punctuation in our verdant yard. but then, that green…a celebration of life. at least i can toss out the yellow, but the beige…well, it’s the color of the deck. so who knows. and then, there’s the budget. in the meanwhile, the rainbow of market umbrellas tempt us. joy in a hardware store. and that rainbow…
because everything nowadays seems to have a political affiliation, i just did a little research. read up on the big three – home depot, lowes, menards. read some articles about ace, thankfully, mostly privately owned. what i read just now – easily just skimming the surface of articles thus far – was somewhat eye-opening and will now dictate where i shop. lurid accusations of founders, large dark money contributions to right-wing nationalist groups, support of the sale of items touting anti-democracy – i’m wondering what all this has to do with power drills, lawn seed, building lumber, nails and hummingbird swings.
as ever, i am breathless from reading about the stance of powerful billionaires hungry for more, ensconced in agenda, dedicated to power and control in every arena. i want to believe that store managers are supported and encouraged, not threatened or belittled. i want to believe that these powerful founders – men – truly uphold the equality of women or of any gender identity, of races other than their own, of religions other than their own, of the freedom to learn in this country without banning crucial historic details, without censorship. i want to believe that hardware is hardware and that positioning and lobbying and not-so-veiled political blackmail has nothing to do with hammers and do-it-yourself in a country built on an experiment with liberty and justice for all.
i just want to believe in market umbrellas and the good ole hardware store.
*****
read DAVID’S thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY
the midterms are rapidly approaching. the rhetoric is amping up. the tv ads, the phone calls, the billboards, the texts, the email messages, the political mail in the mailbox – all dedicated to sway our vote.
i realize that this is the way to raise money, that this is the way to get one party ahead of the other. many voters will elect to vote a straight party ballot. some will vote without asking any questions. some will vote without any information at all. some will vote for vapid minds, choosing the rough edges of spewed anger, covert scheming. they are voting on a bandwagon – with truth obscured – and haven’t looked past the exterior of the candidates.
i was chatting quite some time ago with a college professor. he was teaching a class three days a week and was talking about his experiences. “anybody can be brilliant for an hour and a half,” he quipped. i laughed, thinking how true that is.
but it’s the long haul that counts. it’s what’s at the crux that counts. i wonder what is in the center of what motivates the candidates we are considering. what is past the exterior, what are the things they affirm, believe in, wish to move forward?
anyone can look pious, even righteous, in brevity, for short spurts of time. but these same pedestalized people can bring to the table masked and unmasked agenda that is riddled with inequality, marginalization, discrimination, divisiveness, violence, a thwarting of social, racial, gender, financial equity all under the auspices of brilliance. it is our responsibility to peel back the layers, to poke through the season-of-midterm blahblah, to examine the intentions, the integrity, of the people we choose – truly, in every arena – to represent us.
how these people manifest in their communication, their compassion, their fairness, their steadfast evenhandedness, their actual brilliance – not the hourandahalf variety – should tell us something important. if a person does not represent the values we uphold ourselves, the ones we would lay out to each and every one of those we love, why would we elect that person to represent us, to reflect us? if our vote was revealed to our loved ones, our children, our family, friends, community, colleagues, would we take comfort, would we have pride, in what was revealed?
for it is in our vote that we truly show what is beyond the exterior. it is in our vote that we truly show what is in our heart.
*****
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read DAVID’S thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY
i’m generally a floor-noticer.
i, intimately, know the wood floors in our house. i know where they creak, where they are silent, where they are slightly uneven, where the floorboard gaps are smaller and where they are bigger. i know where the stains are and where there are holes that were drilled into the floor to install a christmas tree – a silly tale from decades before we lived here. i adore the wood floors in this house.
a year ago today i connected – for seemingly forever – with the floor at my place of employment at the time. i knew those floors well also, having been there for a full eight years…the stuff of old-building linoleum tiles, looking polished and shiny from time to time, committees always pondering the next waxing, the grungy it-needs-to-be-washed. we had a similar floor in our basement growing up, darker in color, but the same stuff. that floor at work used to bring me a sense of comfort, the recognition, the familiarity, the place.
that day was much the same. perfectly at home there and proud of the work i was doing, i was simply walking down the hall. it was unfortunate that someone had washed the floor and had not put up any signage to indicate that caution was needed, that the floor was wet, and, thus, i was unaware. i was almost at the office – where i was headed – when my feet slipped from underneath me and i fell, landing hard on my right hand. and now, that floor will ever be a part of me.
i’ve worked very hard to regain the use of my wrist since tearing my scapholunate ligament that day and i was up to 60 degrees of forward range-of-motion when they stopped covering treatment a few weeks ago. the mri, weeks after my communion with the floor, showed definitive tearing – a “high grade partial or complete tear” – and, just mere minutes into online research, the nih (national institutes of health) states “proper ligament repair is recommended within four to six weeks after trauma” which includes arthroscopic surgery, reconnection of torn ligament remnants and pinning. they continue, “….all intrinsic carpal ligaments tend to undergo rapid degeneration in as short a time as two to six weeks, after which primary repair may be difficult or even impossible and ineffective.” continued degeneration, serious arthritis, ever-decreasing range of motion are the hallmarks of an s/l tear gone untreated in a timely manner.
i suppose that there is a reason why the person-in-charge-of-the-paperwork just put the accident report in the drawer. i suppose that there is a reason why that form-in-the-drawer was a random incident form off the internet that the person printed and filled out without communicating with me about my fall, though there are specific proper-process official-wisconsin-employer forms also accessible on the internet. i suppose that there is a reason i had to do a little preemptive googling and let them know that sans-official-proper-process-timely-reporting there could be a steep fine for this [formerly] cherished place in which i worked. i suppose that there is a reason why they, then, a week later, decided to officially report my injury, ultimately pushing medical intervention coverage back and, also ultimately, in a snowball effect, delaying an mri until six weeks later. i suppose that there is a reason why the physician in my own town read the mri report and flippantly said, “i believe for the most part this should improve”, adding, “i do not believe i will be able to make her scapholunate ligament better than what it is right now,” and, though 3.6mm (my measured interval) > 2.0mm (normal interval), stated “i do not believe that these [results] are going to be clinically relevant.” i suppose that the froedtert hand specialist would disagree heartily with that local doctor when he told me, at a requested-second-opinion appointment, that this injury – the s/l tear (concurring with the mri) – should have been addressed at the very beginning, that lost time was irretrievable. he stated that these injuries are the bane of hand specialists’ existence and that months later – by the time of the second opinion – i had crossed over into territory where complete healing would be impossible. i suppose it would be naive for me to think that requiring an IME-outside-opinion-by-a-doctor-chosen-and-paid-for-by-the-insurance-company was on the up and up and designed for my health, well-being and long-term healing. i suppose abruptly ceasing treatment would, well, i don’t know; it can’t be anything good. i suppose it all didn’t really matter to the person-in-charge-of-the-paperwork back a year ago. i suppose it still doesn’t. it wasn’t that-person’s wrist. that-person wasn’t a lifelong professional musician. neither were those on the rest of the decision-making-committee. why would they care or be compassionate or concerned? perhaps those words were not in their job descriptions, though that seems preposterous considering the place of my employ. whatever-that-person’s-deal was, whatever-their-deal-was, it devastatingly got in the way of protecting me, their employee, from harm and from doing whatever was possible to aid me, their long-term-employee-aka-fired-employee-eight-weeks-after-the-fall-on-the-floor, to heal properly and to be able to normally use my wrist – an imperative for a musician – for all time to come.
i suppose there must be reasons. i just, for the life of me, can’t figure out what they are.
maybe someday, when i feel less indignant, less disheartened and far less disappointed, i’ll forget about those old linoleum tiles.
*****
read DAVID’S thoughts K.S. FRIDAY
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UNTITLED INTERLUDE from RELEASED FROM THE HEART ©️ 1995 kerri sherwood
“you can’t take it with you,” my sweet poppo would say, referring to money and an eventual dying. he and my momma were generous people. even in the lower-middlest-of-middle-class living, they were giving and altruistic. they gave out of pockets-not-full-of-plenty, never hesitating, never clutching onto money. they worked hard, paid taxes, contributed to organizations they believed in, helped their children and their children’s children. they were amazing examples of character, especially as defined by the ironic presidential proclamation earlier this week. they never failed to lift others up and believed in those who needed assistance. they were not greedy.
but greed rears its exceptionally ugly head nevertheless. and the administration that currently rules this nation (i rue the use of such an unfortunately appropriate word) continually thrusts forward self-serving agenda for those-with and denies the importance of policy for those-without. in a country that calls itself a democracy and ensures domestic tranquility, it is a pitiful state of affairs to celebrate, undermine and invite more disparity in its populace.
it should be with a (large) modicum of shame that leona helmsley is quoted as saying, “only the little people pay taxes,” but instead it is apparent that is the whole point. keep the little people little; keep the rich people rich.
we drove through tiny towns from canon city, colorado to limon, colorado. the never-ending rangeland boasted tiny mobile homes and collapsing houses, people living in squalor. the trump 2020 signs were prevalent. i wondered aloud why anyone living in such circumstance would fly a giant flag for a man and a complicit administration that could care less about them. i wondered why they would choose to campaign for a person who cannonballs along the unfair advantages for the wealthy, the keeping-those-with-less down policies, the brutal inequity under every umbrella. i wondered why they would support someone who has clearly paid less taxes than they had. i wondered if they knew that this very president, a self-expressed billionaire, had paid merely $750 in taxes. i wondered if they knew that he and his cronies consider them the “little people” of this leona quote. i wondered how they, as humans who are citizens of this country and deserve respect and equality and opportunity, would feel about being called “little people”.
it was my dad’s 100th birthday on saturday. he always wanted to live to be 100 and, as we talk about him and tell stories and i talk to him aloud, we celebrate him as 100 even if he is on another plane of existence.
as we drove the rest of the way home through green fields turning to gold, viewing signs of a clear misinformation election campaign, i thought about my dad. we entered quick stores after pumping gas to use the restroom, stores with large signs on the door that clearly stated “masks required”, to find misinformed, defiant and cavalier people wandering about with nary a mask, and i thought about my dad. we stopped for a picnic by the side of a lake, stretching our legs, and i thought about my dad.
in the warped definition of the current pompous leadership of this nation, i suppose he, like we, would be considered “little people”.
but i thought about his integrity, his love, his tolerance, his hardworking nature, his just-make-it-work-ness, his generosity, and i have no doubt about how he would feel about the united states’ current administration and attitudes.
the topic of money is an easy one. “you can’t take it with you,” my dad would say. virtue, on the other hand? “no,” he’d say, “you can’t take it with you either.” and, after a pause, he’d add, “especially if you never had it.”
read DAVID’S thoughts this FLAWED WEDNESDAY
chaos (physics): ‘behavior so unpredictable as to appear random, owing to great sensitivity to small changes in conditions’
we were at a meeting up north this summer when mona said this, “even chaos has boundaries.” i jotted it down because it felt relevant. in the midst of a contentious situation we were trying to keep our ‘do what’s best for the organization’ hats on, trying to believe that there, indeed, would be an end to the chaos. committed to a peaceful forward-advancing plan, we kept both hands on the hats, guarding against a wave, a treacherous wave of onto-the-band-wagon-jumping, the aligning of two camps on different shores offering nothing of good import for the organization.
but there is a fine, fine line. an infinitesimal line of crossover – where one tiny change, one more jenga block, one more pick-up stick, one more stone in the cairn, tilts the seesaw and chaos reigns.
we face, today, a seesaw of the greatest sensitivity. like refraction, light passing through various mediums, the bend in light is dependent on the medium. the slightest change in density yields change.
clearly, we must be sensitive. the light we refract, our response, will determine what the next person has to work with. if we refract less light and more darkness, darkness will exist, will be pervasive. and darkness, in the way of chaos, sussing out change and a hole in the dam, will become exponential. where is critical mass, when the seesaw collapses, the cairn falls?
we must be sensitive. we must be responsible. we must respond in integrity, despite everything around us, despite the doubters, despite the rhetoric, despite the cavalierness, despite the political dogfight, despite the positioning of that ever-present caste ladder, doing what is best for each of us, for all of us. what i do affects you.
in our own worlds, for ourselves, for all, we can strive not to pull the wrong jenga block or move the wrong pick-up stick. choose your cairn-stones with care.
read DAVID’S thoughts this MERELY-A-THOUGHT MONDAY
reverse threading 