we test our smoke alarms the first day of each month. it is likely overly cautious, but i want our smoke alarms to be self-actualized in their vigilant monitoring of smoke – and thus, flame – so we check them to make sure that the battery is still functioning, that the alarm is still as brutally loud as it should be. we have smoke alarms to warn us of impending disaster. we pay attention to them.
we have a carbon monoxide alarm as well. when i go downstairs into the workroom i glance at it every single time, making sure that it still lights up at 0% and that there is no indication that the battery back-up needs to be replaced. we have this carbon monoxide detector to warn us of impending disaster. we pay attention to it.
we both have weather notifications on our phones. in the way that weather alerts work, we are notified if there is dangerous weather on the way – if there are high winds or torrential rain or destructive flooding or a tornado or a big snowstorm or ice or thick fog or intense heat. these notifications alert us to danger and inform our decisions about outdoor activity and various other things. we pay attention to them.
each time we get out of our vehicles, we click the lock, engaging the security alarm. each night people go to the panel that initiates their security system for their home, ensuring that they will be alerted should any danger present. people thru-hiking carry bear spray and whistles. people in extraordinarily threatening zones carry pepper spray. though we personally do not have hurricane shutters or wind-proof glass or generators, we do know those who do – and we assume these are just in case there is lurking peril.
it is likely that most of the redwagoners also – like us – have the basics – smoke alarms, carbon monoxide detectors and weather notifications as well as an assortment of other reassuring security devices. it is likely that they wish to be warned of any potential disasters. it is likely they do not slough off these safeties, give no heed, laugh with glee. it is likely they pay attention to each of these.
that these same people – the red-red ones with all these just-in-case safety aids – are failing to pay attention to the complete devastation of our democracy, the absolute stripping of the constitution, the one-step-away from authoritarianism is beyond my comprehension.
the flame is raging, the oxygen of the united states is being usurped, the destructive storm is at its peak.
every safety alarm, every security alert is blaring. yet they are not paying attention.
i would rather drive than be driven. relatively easily solvable. i would rather fly than be flown. there is one teensy problem with that one though. i do not have the qualifications to fly a jet airplane. and so, if i wish to travel via jet from one place to another, i have to give it up – control, that is.
for me, it is not so much about control as it is about motion sickness. if my brain – sans bonine/dramamine/large quantities of ginger chews – can see what my intention is as i drive/fly, than i am able to go with the flow, so to speak, and my equilibrium seems to adjust. i never did get a pair of those funky anti-motion-sick glasses, so that is one thing i haven’t tried. but wearing a pair of those – in addition to a mask – onboard an airplane is sure to get me some looks.
i was nervous when my children were little and i had to fly places – away from them – for concerts or shows. giving over control to someone i did not know at the helm required more than a bit of trust for me. i had to consciously work at it once i was a mom, with much prayer and self-talk throughout the flights. ultimately, as time went by and i safely arrived at venues and back home, i learned – slowly – to give over, to trust that the person in the pilot’s seat had all of our best interests at heart. i learned – slowly – to utter a prayer for her or his clearheadedness and expertise, sit back and relax a little.
but now times are different. we just recently flew – pretty much right after a couple aircraft disasters had taken place and many FAA personnel had been fired – introducing more risk – and i found myself wishing we had had the option to drive. trust me, i do know that driving is more dangerous than flying, but – remember – i get to be behind the wheel so it all feels a little different. i managed to keep my calm and fly – several legs – out west and back.
but the idea of control has stuck with me.
because here we are – in the seats of america – with madmen at the helm. here we are – sitting in a democracy being taken apart, being dismantled piece by piece. here we are – citizens of a country in which every check and balance is going unchecked, where oversight is being eliminated, where the core of our republic is being shredded.
this is most definitely a time to be absolutely worried about control. the risk is monumental, the potential loss world and life-changing. this is not a time to trust nor to give over. this is a time to be wary, to not sit back, to not relax. they do not have our best interests at heart.
“there are times when fear is good. it must keep its watchful place at the heart’s controls.” (aeschylus)
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.
she said it and i immediately wrote it down. “american women are not stupid,” katty kay (bbc news correspondent) repeated elizabeth warren’s plainspoken words and then added that it should be the new slogan of the harris/walz presidential campaign. i wholeheartedly agree.
she’s absolutely right. american women AREN’T stupid. WOMEN aren’t stupid.
last wednesday the maga presidential candidate amplified a meme featuring two outstanding and accomplished women – hillary clinton and kamala harris. the comment about these two women – on this meme he deliberately shared – was the epitome of crass, vulgar beyond belief. i will not repeat it here. but something in me snapped.
even beyond the access-hollywood hot mic audio recording. even beyond his unending lewd, derogatory, demeaning comments about women. even beyond all the accusations of sexual abuse. even after a jury of his peers found him – this presidential candidate – guilty of sexual assault. even beyond every single other indictment, every single other conviction, every single other thing that disregards the rule of law. this scunge of a man is actually running for president – a position we wish our communities, our nation, our world, our children to hold in esteem – and it is unconscionable.
i have had zero respect for this maga candidate for some time now. his repugnant behavior has not resonated with me, amused me, entertained me or aligned with me one bit. his mean-spiritedness, his narcissistic self-devotion, his quest for autocratic power, his inability to play by the rules. this is a man who objectifies women, a man who sexualizes them, who aggressively degrades them, who sloughs them off, who takes advantage of them, who wants to control them, who sexually abuses them. and now i am sick to death of him. it is beyond the pale that he should even be able to run for the highest office of this land – he lacks any regard for anyone other than himself.
i am a woman. i am a daughter, a mother, a wife, a sister, a girlfriend. i am an aunt, a godmother, a female, a victim of sexual abuse. i am appalled.
women are not stupid. we will not vote for patriarchy, for the annihilation of the rights of women, for wearing skirts for men. it disgusts me to the point of nausea thinking of any woman – ANY woman – casting a precious vote for a man whose wishes are to put women back into their place and to control their bodies, to eliminate the rights of LGBTQ, to trash any racial, gender, religious, socioeconomic equalities we have achieved, to rule with an iron fist.
there is a woman around the block who has a sign that touts “women for [this candidate]“. i wonder every time i see it how it is possible that she supports this misogynistic bigot for president. what – on this good earth – is she thinking?
and so, though i am utterly distressed that any decent human being would support this maga candidacy, i want to specifically ask the women who are waiting to crown maga as leadership a few questions:
is there anyone in your family who is female, besides you? do you want them – as they live their life – to have freedom of opportunity, of decisions that will impact them, their bodies? do you care about their safety? do you care about their futures or do you wish to limit and imperil them?
is there anyone in your family who is LGBTQ? do you care about their rights, about their opportunity for the freedoms you have enjoyed, about their futures? do you care about their safety? do you care about them at all or do you wish to limit and imperil them?
is there anyone in your family who is not white? do you care about the equality that should be bestowed upon them, just like you? do you care about their safety, their futures or do you wish to limit and imperil them?
is there anyone in your family who is a child? do you care about their schooling, about their chance to learn the truth of history, about their free questions and research, about their safety, about their futures or do you wish to limit and imperil them?
is there anyone in your family who does not deserve proper healthcare – whether it is while they are younger or during their senior years? do you care about the social programs of social security and medicare continuing – with the freedom of choice – supporting them in their aging? do you care about their futures or do you wish to limit and imperil them?
is there anyone in your family who you would prevent from seeing the things that this maga candidate is saying, the things this maga candidate has said, the things this maga candidate has done, the crimes this maga candidate has committed, the extreme prejudices and contempt this maga candidate has for others? or are you hoping to emulate these behaviors, hoping that your dear ones emulate this, grow up to be this?
do you actually find this maga choice – unbelievably the person in all the country – this entire nation – that has been lifted up by the maga party as the best of the best – to be acceptable? how is that possible? what is inside your heart that makes this your ideal choice for leadership?
isn’t there reason to believe – a constitutional expectation – that the position of president of the united states of america should be held in the highest esteem, should answer to the highest of powers, should be a person of unparalleled virtue, should not limit or imperil the populace?
on the side of the willis tower – downtown chicago – is affixed the atmospheric wave wall. created by the same artist whose rainbow bridgewe loved at the milwaukee art museum, olafur eliasson’s piece is striking and imbues the colors of the lakefront – sky, clouds, water in all its moods.
in speaking about his piece, olafur – also a climate and community activist – says, “what we see depends on our point of view: understanding this is an important step toward realizing that we can change reality. it is my hope that this subtle intervention can make a positive contribution to the building and to the local community by reflecting the complex activity all around us, the invisible interactions and minute fluctuations that make up our shared public space.”
the steel catches the light of the sun. the piece seemingly shifts with the movements of everything around it, with time as time passes.
we have not yet seen it at night – lit from behind – but i imagine it is stunning – with light escaping from the intersection of the colored tiles. the places of light: in-between.
just as weird as it was to sit on the train it was equally with wonder to move freely about in the city – after all this time and so much that has happened in our country – sans innocence. it is with a bit of heightened awareness we move in the world now, though i don’t suppose heightened awareness helped any of the victims of the latest violent rages at the hands of angry out-of-control people. it is impossible to figure out why the wrong front door or the wrong driveway or the wrong ask-of-a-neighbor could elicit such unconscionably brutal responses.
we were driving to the grocery store. we took the route we usually take, a side street. two-thirds of the way down this road – before the traffic light – our attention was driven to a guy on the sidewalk, staring at us. brandishing something – we don’t know what – he flailed his arm around, pointing to the sidewalk, swinging, pointing, staring at us.
pre-whatever-phase-one-would-call-the-phase-that-this-country-is-in we probably wouldn’t have thought twice. we might have wondered what he was doing, might have wondered why he stared at us, might have pondered what he was brandishing. but we wouldn’t have been entirely creeped out and we wouldn’t have planned a different route home and, perhaps, a different route to our store for the continuing future. it felt like the place between was unsafe. and i find that devastatingly sad.
we live in a normal midwest town. only – i guess – not so much. our town is now known – in these last years of the more-unsafe-phase – for a plethora of events that have no light in-between. our small city is as broken as every other small city, as every other big city.
were there to be a wall of art to represent this phase of our world what colors would it be?
in his rush to get one of the coveted front spots at costco, the guy in the infinity cut me off in the parking lot. i parked in a different row, but watched as he got out of his car. he bent down and pulled out some kind of revolver, tucking it into the back waistband of his pants. then he walked into the store.
i must say – i haven’t ever felt a need to protect myself in costco. maybe from overspending, but never from violence. it was disturbing – almost to the point of turning around and going home – to know this guy was walking around – maybe getting a rotisserie chicken or ribs or a bottle of wine or eddie-bauer-sweats or glucosamine-in-bulk – with some big handgun in his pants. i told d about my reticence to go into the store.
we have a code word for anytime we are in a situation that suddenly feels unsafe. post-parade-massacres, post-grocery-store-shootings, post-concert-devastation, post-festival-tragedies, post-school-maulings – post-all-of-it and in the middle of all of it – we know to drop everything and get out or get away if either of us senses danger. no questions asked. no lingering. just go.
it is without light in-between that this country has come to this point. the intersections of peoples and genders and ethnicities and belief systems and economic statuses and, apparently, any differences whatsoever, seem to have no light. they are not backlit nor are they reflective of the sun streaming over this land.
“our shared public space.” shared. from sea to shining sea.
how do we create the invisible interactions and minute fluctuations of a safe shared public space? how – in a country that seems to have insidious anger and no shortage of violence – do we find the light in-between us? because “we can change reality”.
it’s disconcerting to round the corner to your street and see five fire trucks parked there, lights on, hoses at the ready. more fire trucks continued to arrive, police cars blocking the entrance to the road at both ends. the instant we got out of the car in the driveway it was obvious. there had been a gas line puncture; natural gas permeated the air, heavy in the warm humidity. the firefighters directed us residents into our homes, our tendency, otherwise, to stand on driveways and discuss the happenings. it took a while, but the gas company came, a worker climbed into the hole (i would assume that person receives hazard pay) and, much like the story of the boy and the dike, somehow plugged up the puncture. after some time, the fire trucks left one by one and a semblance of order returned to the neighborhood, though no one was anxious to light a bonfire or a grill or cause any sparks for a while.
the news of more wildfires – again – still – in california is overwhelming to read. with temperatures hovering at one hundred degrees and drought a repeating theme, i cannot imagine the insurmountable task of the firefighters, the constant worry about loss of lives and homes and wildlife.
and then, on the other end of the wet-dry spectrum, the floods in kentucky. worried about the owner of the tiny house we stayed at south of lexington, i texted her. she and her whole family are from the hollers of kentucky, growing up near rivers that are now flooded. i didn’t hear back, but checked facebook and found that her church was underwater and she had – already at that time – devastatingly lost two neighbors.
both extremes. catastrophic.
it seems that these events never end. one morphs into the next into the next. our fragile planet suffers while politicians debate inane issues and, from all evidence, seemingly seek to stoke their own financial objectives. meanwhile, in every corner of the globe there is mighty confirmation that this good earth is in crisis. this puts each of us in crisis, our children, our children’s children, the children of our children’s children. and yet, politicians, in every corner of the globe, sneer and attend to their own shortsighted power grabs. wow.
it would be hard to choose to be a firefighter. it would be hard to work for the red cross, crisscrossing this country in an attempt to attend to the extreme needs of its populace. it would be hard to be a climate scientist, likely frustrated out of their gourds watching and listening to the pushback of idiocy.
and there are more it-would-be-hards. it would be hard to be a teacher or a school principal, as the new 2022-2023 school year rapidly approaches and the worry about potential school shootings revives after summer break. it would be hard to be the manager of a grocery store, the managing director of a concert venue, the owner of a dance club, the grand marshal of an idyllic holiday parade, the owner of a movie theater, the director of a medical facility, the leaders of a religious institution….
we-the-people face down emergency after emergency. i would think that all we really want – now’days – is to think that our safety – whether from climate crisis or gun violence or extreme aggression or marginalization – would be foremost. all we really want is to avoid catastrophe. all we really want is to believe that the leaders of our communities, our states, our country have our best interests – and not their pocketbooks or personal agenda – at heart. heart. yes.
all we really want is to not pull down our own street-that-we-live-on – wherever it is – and see a multitude of fire trucks and a catastrophe – from anything within human power to prevent – that is insurmountable.
enough was a long time ago. enough was after the first mass shooting. “enough” is no longer relevant.
i hardly know what to say. every one of us in this country should be shocked into exhausted, sickened silence and then pushed into action, no longer sloughing off of the actual responsibility to protect the citizens of this land from the barrel of a gun, from the devastation of people’s lives blown apart.
this spacious-skies-amber-waves-of-grain united states is an embarrassment. the freedom to live life – at school, at church, at a concert, at the movies, in the mall, at the club, at the grocery store – the freedom to continue breathing is usurped by powerful money-rich-control-hungry leaders – voted into office, no less – with not even a nod to the sanctity of lives taken at gunpoint.
it is utterly shameful if you are not filled with rage, if you are not horrified with the guns in this land and those who support the exponential growth and prioritizing of their presence and the power they wield. they will utter their passive “heartfelt” “thoughts and prayers” and will soon forget their “outrage”. until the next time.
i have sat on the edge of this deck and prayed many a prayer. i have wept and i have laughed. i have sat against the wall, warmed by a winter sun, sipping coffee. i have sat under the umbrella in hot summer sipping cold wine. i have read books and letters, texts and emails. i have written manuscripts and lyrics and poetry and correspondence. i have learned and learned again. i have had hard conversations and gleeful announcements. i have sat – all alone – in the wee hours of the night and i have entertained many, many parties, many rehearsals, many gatherings of relatives, of friends. i have played with my beloved children and potty-trained puppies. i’ve shared a fort with my girl and pushed my boy on swings. i’ve checked kids’ hair for lice and i’ve played basketball and i’ve caught fireflies. i’ve grown black-eyed susans and lavender and hosta and ferns and grasses and basil and tomatoes and weeds. i’ve grown grass and dug out grass and grown it again. i’ve caught snowflakes and i’ve had waterfights with hoses. i’ve dug a pond at our big-dig and carried home rocks to lay around it. i’ve bird-watched and star-gazed and fallen in love with pond-frogs and watched for the owl and studied a cicada’s transformation and cheered on chipmunks. i have strummed ukulele and sang with a community of people i have called family. i have lugged keyboards and amps and music stands out and played with a band. i have danced to music from a record player plugged into the outdoor box. i’ve stared at the firepit and roasted marshmallows. on this deck. on this patio. in this backyard. i have full-spectrum-lived out there.
it doesn’t look like what you think of when you hear the word “sanctuary”, particularly if you have been even remotely involved with any sort of religious institution. but it is indeed a sanctuary. it is a place of refuge and safety. it is a holy place. no less than any building i have ever been in, it offers introspection and meditation, time for wonder and gratitude, moments to connect directly with serenity and my faith, chances to ask the wisdom of the universe hard questions and listen for the answers. it has not ever let me down. though my questions have not always been addressed, though i have unanswered prayers, though i ponder layers of existential, this sanctuary has always embraced me.
i walk out and it whispers to me that it is there, simply waiting. to others’ eyes, it may not appear this way – beautiful and inviting – it may not be pristine or perfectly landscaped, it may not be tended with a keen hand, but it is ever-perfect. it is unfailingly omnipresent, undeniably not ulterior. it calls to me without agenda, without intent, without chance of betrayal. it is inclusive of all who have ever walked there, of all who would ever take time to sit. it is consistent. dependable. a constant.
it is a sanctuary beyond reproach. a place of peace. outside, under the dawning morning and the galaxial sky, the heavens holding us.
it is – as i have learned – everywhere we go, under every rising sun and waxing moon. we are held to mother earth by gravity and the grace of spirit difficult to describe. this great big sanctuary.
bill never failed. and he would get me every single time. we have had many, many dinners together, lunches together, even breakfasts together, at their house, at our house, in restaurants, in picnic areas. and each time he has managed to break through my confidence and subtly – or not so subtly – point to a tooth or wipe at the side of his mouth all the while staring at me with that-look . . . the one that says, “you might want to mimic this – be aware – there’s something you should know”. i would fall for it each and every time, quickly closing my wide-toothed smile or stopping mid-sentence to scrub my napkin at the side of my mouth, whereupon he would belly-laugh and i would lovingly roll my eyes at his antics while linda would, with one word, admonish him, “bill!”
grace’s “if you see something, say something” made me laugh aloud. we are now watching ‘grace and frankie‘ episodes all over again, starting at the beginning. while i am on the treadmill and david is on the bike, aerobic exercise our goal, we turn the volume way up and grace and frankie and sol and robert and the kids get us through exercising. each episode we see things we missed the first time; such brilliance and great writing, words at their funnest. (yes, i know…not formally a word.)
“if you see something, say something” is kind of a girl rule. i have made it a rule for david, but he misses things in a guy sort of way, so if there is a woman around, i would totally count on her to let me know about the head of broccoli in my teeth or the pasta sauce that escaped to my chin or the mascara falling onto my cheeks, inadvertent momentary flaws that need pointing out. we women have a way of letting each other know about these things and we extend the kindness to each other mostly without previous acknowledgment of the rule. first world, yes.
when i taught music at the elementary school in florida we were cautioned to watch carefully as our children were released at the end of the day. “if you see something, say something,” the principal directed. and, at the end of one particular day, a day that i was not on duty but had just walked outside under the breezeway near my room, i watched as a parent on a no-pick-up-list drove up into the line to pick up his small child. i bolted back to my little music shed and called the office, alerting them and asking for help to waylay him. i don’t know what we averted that day, but i do know that our watchfulness protected that little girl from whatever placed him on the list as dangerous. if you see something, say something. absolutely yes.
i’ve recently seen videos explicitly showing a hand motion you should use or watch for in times of peril: tucking one’s thumb in and closing one’s fingers over it. a sign, without words, for domestic abuse. a signal for help in a threatening situation. a plea for aid, for an intervention. important stuff to know and to be aware of. if you see something, say something. always yes.
in this world in these times it would seem that watchfulness is paramount. it would be lovely to think that you could just mosey through life, naively unaware, but these days call for something different than that. these days call for more attentiveness, more caution, more observing, more alertness. these days call for responsibility to each other, whether it is following pandemic health guidelines, obeying traffic rules or being vigilantly aware of keeping each other safe. these days demand it. yes.
perhaps that is why, on the treadmill in the basement of our house, immersed in grace and frankie and thinking about stuff in my teeth and bill teasing and laughing is so, so good. exercise good for our hearts in more than one way. mmhmm.
i opened my laptop to the facebook tab this morning and this picture was waiting. in the way that facebook picks and chooses memories for you to zip back to, days of throwback, this photo was labeled as “8 years ago” and immediately i was there. it was a celebratory post for the “world premier” performance of the ukulele band. a rainbow of color and delight and what an arc it had.
the best parts of a director’s job as a conductor are to see the coming-together of community, the coming-together of practice, the coming-together of confidence, the coming-together in ensemble. those moments when it all syncs into a piece of music, a song, into utter joy expressed by melody and strummed chords. these are defining moments, moments in the groove, moments when everything jibes, moments when all is in alignment. these ukuleles were a gift both to people who had played or sang before and people who had never experienced the camaraderie of music performance. these ukuleles were a gift to people who watched. i was happy to see this ‘memory’ in my facebook feed early today.
scrolling further, coffee next to me, and facebook was full of the olympics and stories of great athleticism, stories of winning, stories of not-winning.
in the last couple days simone biles withdrew from olympic events. she got a case of the “twisties” she said. in simple terms, as i am not an athlete, this is a dangerous and precarious situation when an athlete mid-air has a time of blankness and is forced to rely on muscle memory so as not to get hurt. her vault suffered and she, aware of the sheer importance of this body she had trained and relied on, turned to her trainers and coaches and stopped. they respected her decision. they respected her physical health, the importance of every appendage as an athlete. they respected that her decision to withdraw was protecting her athletic ability in the future. they did not ask her to place her physical form at risk. they did not label her decision to withdraw and rest that which gave her her life’s work – her body and her mind – as not working for them, as a demerit costing her payroll or esteem. instead, to their credit, those in power trusted and honored her decision and supported her in it, no doubt encouraging her. she placed her physical and mental health over her aspiration to win more metal and, in those decisions, has probably made more impact on the world than maybe anything else she’s done (even while recognizing that she has leaped and vaulted and hand-springed her way into most-outstanding-gymnast-ever-dom). respecting her decision and respecting her mental and physical health, not questioning but relying on her professionalism, her wisdom, her intuition, her knowledge and experience and – this biggie – upholding the value of keeping her safe and thereby keeping her future as an athlete wide open – this is vastly important and profoundly absolute.
scrolling further down facebook i came across a post about kerri strug. after a 1996 olympic vault during which she drastically injured herself, her coach insisted she go back and do it again. despite her best intuition, despite the long-lasting injury she would sustain as a result of not resting after her fall, she was pushed to go on. in some not-honoring-her-but-placing-importance-on-power moment, she pushed on. 1996. 2021. reading posts comparing these, it’s evident there has been some growth. it’s also evident there hasn’t.
i scrolled back up to the top of my feed. i stared at the circle of ukuleles. in these moments post ukulele-band-rainbow-arc, in these moments as covid continues to wreak its wreckage and its wearying challenges, i hope that those people who were in the band still take out their ukuleles. i miss them and our music-making. i hope that muscle memory reminds them how to play. i hope they sing. i hope they remember all those stunning moments of cohesion – making music.
it’s interesting the juxtaposition of what you see on facebook on any given morning.
reverse threading 