it is the imperative of an artist, the obligation of humankind.
it is showing up, speaking up, speaking out.
it is not in keepingthe peace but in creating peace and protecting the rights of all in a peaceful world.
and sometimes that is risky.
i can hear it – woke. i can hear it – liberal. i can hear it – snowflake. i can hear it – asshole. nothing i haven’t heard before. so call me what you will.
i can feel it – the risk. i can feel it – the pushback. i can feel it – the stern you-stay-in-line-don’t-you-make-waves. i can feel it – the reactionary disagreement sans any discussion. i can feel it – the write-off.
but this one life we each get – this one very precious and extraordinary life – the one during which we all breathe in and out pretty much the same way – the one where you can live authentically (and flawed) or falsely (and flawed) – this life is to live, to not fear – this life demands our voices.
and these words: surround yourself with people who fight for you even in rooms you aren’t in…
i don’t want to hesitate to be that person. to take it on – the slight, the wrongdoing, the injustice. i don’t want to be silent again because i won’t upset you that way. i don’t want to be voiceless yet again in the face of yet another betrayal.
i wish to relinquish my life-long peacekeeper role.
these here are those days.
instead, i want to speak up for me. i want to speak up for people – for peoples – i don’t even know. speak up for justice, for equality, for kindness.
to speak against cruelty and division. to have no allegiance to bigotry, racism, misogyny, xenophobia, homophobia. to speak to truth, question propaganda. to reject being complicit. to push back against the ugliest ugly even if it makes me unpopular.
time to speak up. time to own what you have pondered, researched, debated, lost sleep over. time to honestly consider the choice and its true ramifications. time to think beyond yourself and reflect upon the legacy you are choosing. time to weigh in on the qualifications, the integrity, the character of the candidates. time to deliberate good and evil. time.
we have not remained silent. we have spoken and written and cartooned. we will continue to do so. because it is – indeed – time to take action.
our precious votes will not be squandered on a candidate whose sole focus is himself. they will not be spent on a man who lacks basic humanness, whose criminal and monstrous behaviors demonstrate his ambitions. they will not support a party that has eaten itself alive, that has become pistol-focused on autocracy, on mean-spiritedness, that would have the audacity to use name-calling and underhanded bitter tirades to represent itself. they will not be cast for a ticket that quashes the freedom of women and LGBTQ, that deliberately builds up the rich and ignores those in need, that slashes equality for race, gender, religion, orientation, that has intentional plans for undermining the life, liberty and pursuit of happiness of all in this country, all entering this country. these precious and important votes of ours will not buy into the repugnance of maga and its hideous scheme for the future. no.
instead, our votes – this opportunity, this responsibility, to participate in the future of the united states of america – will be cast with the honor and respect and diligence due them. they will be educated, considered, based on researched fact, leaning into joy and hope for future generations, looking toward light instead of bleak darkness.
there is no choice here. there is only one worthy candidate.
and though i would – with absolute certainty in my mind and heart – vote AGAINST maga, i, instead, will vote FOR the democratic ticket. i will vote FOR kamala harris and tim walz . i will vote for kindness and the community of this country. i will vote for democracy.
and i will take action each day to help the future of this country for us, for our daughter and son and their partners, for our friends and extended family regardless of their votes, for our town, our state, this nation and the world.
the choice is obvious. i am not going back to the stifling, suffocating, unconscionable ugliness of what we have seen – what we see – from maga.
once upon a time she decided to hold others accountable.
unlike the david and goliath story, she has no slingshot, no rocks to thrust. it is the real world.
she is an individual against a system – one that hides and protects its own, that has no hesitation around spinning webby tales, one in which truthtelling does not fit into the agenda. nevertheless, she persisted. despite their fabrication of narrative. despite the misogyny. despite their absence of proof and her wealth of evidence. she persisted. despite the badmouthing. despite the betrayal. despite the hypocrisy. she persisted. despite the lack of respect. despite the disregard of boundaries. despite the downright ugliness. she persisted. despite the small desperate contingency of Them in a her-them. she persisted.
and in the end, that will be the prize. persistence. speaking up. standing up.
maya angelou is quoted, “each time a woman stands up for herself, she stands up for all women.”
of course it is all in the eye of the beholder, as they say. trouble, that is.
and – it is a straight line from this wine label to civil rights leader john lewis. “speak up, speak out, get in the way. get in good trouble, necessary trouble” (“and help redeem the soul of america.)”
“troublemaker is inspired by those early days of pushing boundaries and finding your path. still stirring things up, we here at troublemaker are all about challenging the status quo and embracing the journey of life.” (hope family wines)
speak up. speak out. get in the way. push boundaries. stir things up. challenge the status quo. i’m pretty sure all of those are definitions of ‘artist’. sans “troublemakers” making good and necessary trouble, agenda, inequity, discrimination, duplicity, harassment, violation, and abuse would quash truth, transparency, goodness, loyalty, dedication, work done well.
my big brother used to strum his guitar and sing “somewhere” (“there’s a place for us”). a song from west side story about simmering tolerance, inclusion, the embrace of each other, the elimination of senseless hatred, bullying, and pointed injustice.
yes. there is a place for us. troublemakers. pushing back toxic. stoking up that which is life-giving.
“you are not only responsible for what you say, but also for what you do not say.” (martin luther)
january 8. we are a week into the new year. we are in the thick – in the territory of resolutions – things we will do, things we won’t do, things we wish to change.
in the way of good conversation at dinner the other night, 20 showed us a photograph of martin luther with this quote. we all shook our heads in agreement. moral silence, not speaking truth to power, not speaking against injustice or wrongdoing or marginalization – a key figure of the protestant movement (and even more specifically – what became the lutheran church) had a few things to say about that. we spent a bit of time swimming in this.
because we are in the thick.
we just passed by the third anniversary of the insurrection of our country’s capitol. white christian nationalism has upped the ante on the lack of moral responsibility – with silence, divisive words, blunt negation of the events of this day. where are the martin luthers of the day? seems a bit antithetical…with a big dollop of hypocrisy to boot.
but we need not be in the nation’s capitol to witness irresponsible words or irresponsible silence. we need not be traipsing down pennsylvania avenue to be in the thick – to be complicit, to be implicitly consenting, to actively perpetuate that which is dangerously wrong. we need merely to look around – closer in – at our own state, city, community, the organizations in which we are involved.
we are in the thick – of the new year. it would seem the most important things we might do – as we start down the 2024 road – is to be certain to be aware, be informed, ask questions, avoid making assumptions or just believing what we are told. it would seem important that we speak up, speak out, speak for, speak against injustice, wrongdoing, marginalization, agenda, a lack of transparency, discrimination, abuse, evil.
for in speaking up or out or for or against – in seeking truth, advocating for truth, insisting on truth – as citizens of this land, our states and our communities, as conscientious participants in organizations and institutions – we would be doing the responsible thing.
and in not? the converse – irresponsible.
martin’s words remind us to think about where – in the thick – we resolve to stand.
“if what one has to say is not better than silence, then one should keep silent.” (confucius)
and then there’s the other side of the coin – the side where silence is not golden.
silence doesn’t stop injustice. it doesn’t stop bullying. it alludes to apathy and indifference, even complicity. it is a ship in a harbor. it is safe. it is spineless.
speaking up – of truth – is not babbling. it is not the proliferation of lies, of the made-up. it does not propagate agenda nor does it perpetuate a culture of the unquestioning. it screeches falsity to a halt; it brings focus to ambiguity; it stands up.
we choose our course. we choose what is or is not important to us. we look to others for wisdom and the ability to sort our path. we make errors in judgment; we keep quiet. we learn. we find our voice.
for me, cousin jerry’s t-shirt said it all: “SPEAK UP!”
because:
“silence becomes cowardice when occasion demands speaking out the whole truth and acting accordingly.” (mahatma gandhi)
“if you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor. if an elephant has its foot on the tail of a mouse and you say that you are neutral, the mouse will not appreciate your neutrality.” (archbishop desmond tutu)
“we must always take sides. neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented. the opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference.” (elie wiesel)
“each time a woman stands up for herself, without knowing it possibly, withoutclaiming it, she stands up for all women.” (maya angelou)
“in the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.” (dr martin luther king jr)
“you own everything that happened to you. tell your stories. if people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.” (anne lamott)
“each time a man stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope.” (robert f kennedy)
“do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” (the golden rule)
“speak your truth quietly and clearly.” (max ehrmann)
with a modicum of tact, with compassion for those who have been wronged, with courage and vulnerability and timidity holding hands-hands-hands, standing in the fire of what is truth-telling, there is hope.
it was precisely the message i needed. like this tiny plant – clearly steeped in sisu – was quietly saying, “there are ways. even against all odds. it is possible.”
and on this day, walking along the lakefront downtown, i nearly missed it peeking out of this drain in the asphalt aggregate street.
i thought about the days, the challenges coming, the uphills, and standing-my-grounds. as we all choose our battles it is much like this tiny plant. the odds may be stacked against us, the difficulties numerous. frustrations will loom mighty, listeners won’t listen and talkers won’t talk. the village looks different than you thought.
but we carry on like the little plant with chutzpah – with sisu – so that we can climb out of the drain-in-the-road and have our say. we speak up and we speak out. we stand firm.
and we root – with fortitude and courage – with sisu – and tether ourselves to the good earth. we stoke up perseverance and grit – sisu – so that we have a surplus from which to draw when we need it.
and, together with the little plant growing out of the drain in the middle of the asphalt street, we rise up and whisper, “don’t underestimate me!”
and from my tiny home under the clover, i can look up and see that maybe the sky is clearing and the rains have stopped. the whole town has put up black umbrellas; some are bent from the wind and most are taller than they are wide, so it’s still easy to get caught in the downpours. and i can see – over there – the brown fulton birdcage umbrellas all set up, rounded bubbles – but everything that has been drenched is now drying a bit and it’s all verdant green and lush. it’s time to carry on.
i’m leaving my little home under the clover to go back out into the world. to see its giantness and feel the arriving sun and appreciate the balance of sunsoaked and rainsoaked, to try and understand the relationship between lack and abundance, to navigate the seesaw of positive and negative.
i see that it is quite possibly all about perspective. for the birds flying over our umbrella-world don’t see us here and, from our vantage point under the umbrella canopy, we don’t see them there. it’s only in the open field that we see each other, in the open field we can discern and hear each other, in the open field we can find truth.
my perspective has gotten lost from time to time, focused merely on my own parched landscape and drenching rainstorms. stepping out, looking around, taking stock – i see past the tiny market-umbrella-town in which i’ve taken shelter.
and i am no longer silent. there is much to be said, much to be learned.
and in the sun i’ll revel. and in the rain i won’t carry an umbrella.
she was out on the deck, momentarily. stopping by to give me words of wisdom and courage, former u.s. supreme court justice ruth bader ginsburg stood in the sunshine. she leaned over, in emphasis, and the sun streamed through her collar, reflecting through the window onto our dresser. i held her words close to me. she reminded me, “but when i talked about sex-based discrimination, i got the response, ‘what are you talking about? women are treated ever so much better than men!’” then we both laughed, her eyes gleaming with the intelligent fight of a strong woman.
ruth continued, her sage words a repetition of something she had said, quoted back in 2020, “it’s an unconscious bias. it’s the expectation. you have a lowered expectation when you hear a woman speaking; i think that still goes on. that instinctively when a man speaks, he will be listened to, where people will not expect the woman to say anything of value. but all of the women in my generation have had, time and again, that experience where you say something at a meeting, and nobody makes anything of it. and maybe half an hour later, a man makes the identical point, and people react to it and say, ‘good idea.’ that, i think, is a problem that persists.”
her parting words, before she vanished from our deck, before her tatted collar no longer formed a sunlit shadow on our dresser, “whatever you choose to do, leave tracks. that means don’t do it just for yourself. you will want to leave the world a little better for your having lived.” i nodded. it’s our responsibility as women (and yes, as men) to make sure that we leave to those behind us a place that is better for those who follow, a place that is transparent and that rebels against agenda, a place that treats all fairly, a place that is dedicated to the resolution of conflict, a place of compassion and truth. her gaze was steady before she disappeared, encouraging me to stay grounded, to “breathe free,” to “speak your mind, even if your voice shakes.”
“i would like to be remembered as someone who used whatever talent she had to do her work to the very best of her ability.”
“will you get to watch any fireworks?” she texted.
our city has spectacular fireworks. for over three decades i have marveled at the extent of the fourth-of-july display over lake michigan, sitting on the rocks along the shore, in the parks along the lakefront, down by where they set them off by the harbor. the fantastic light show goes on for about a half hour, culminating with a finale that bursts open the sky with color.
this city has a festival down by the lake, a carnival in the downtown, food vendors and dock-jumping-dogs and lots of music. there are children with ice cream cones melting on tiny fingers, bubble machines making iridescent bubbles float all around passersby, red, white and blue tchotchkes/chotchkes/chachkis on carts and people, bike parades with flags and streamers. there are hot dogs and brats sizzling, cheese curds and funnel cakes, lemonade and icees and dippin’ dots. there is no shortage of fun celebration and it’s all right there, within walking distance.
but in this day and age…
we won’t be going to watch the fireworks. this will be the fourth year now.
in 2019 we had just moved on island and didn’t leave dogdog and babycat during the display; they were adjusting to a new house as it was and we had no idea how loud the fireworks would be.
the city cancelled the fireworks in 2020; the global pandemic was early-on and there was a healthier respect for distancing.
last year, following the insurrection at the nation’s capitol, along with little to no leadership-held-responsible-for-all-of-that or any accountability, we stayed home.
and in this day and age…
we will stay home again. for the farcical supreme court has begun absolutely dismantling the freedoms that we are supposed to be celebrating. extremism and religious right are suffocating citizens of this country, thwarting the ability to live freely and make one’s own decisions. equality is going the way of centuries ago. discrimination is rising up, like fog on a wind-shifting hot summer’s day over the great lake. gun violence is dramatically increasing and, yet, guns are not limited. the extreme climate crisis is heaved off to the side in favor of big business; the epa is undermined and our children’s futures will feature many more “air quality alerts” than we could ever imagine, not to mention the global warming fallout from fossil fuel emissions. we watch lake mead drop and drop. we read of the po river in italy receding, lives substantially and critically affected. we see that australia is under water and that there are red flag warnings across the southwest – fires will be prevalent as the heat is heating up. the relationships between countries are strained. politics are warped. politicians play on stages of self-agendized blather. there is a lack of responsibility. there is a bigger lack of looking out for the big picture, the long haul, the world that will be inhabited by the children of our children’s children. kindness, consideration, compassion are looked at as weakness. we are flabbergasted at the stupidity. more, we are incredulous at the lack of people to see the stupidity. it seems the more clownish, the more vile, the more popular. it seems that evil lurks. and i wonder about the hypocrisy of watching fireworks while there are people quietly – and not so quietly – undermining democracy. we could ignore it all and go cheer – as loud as my sweet momma used to cheer – at the fireworks. or we could take a pause.
our old backyard neighbor played two things in their backyard. one was the soundtrack for “mamma mia” and the other was an album of john philip sousa marches. never insanely loud back then, both made us smile. a relationship three decades long.
but in this day and age, there are multitudes – truly multitudes – of children in that yard out back, a yard equipped with every single thing any generous public playground might have: full-size batting cage, full-size trampoline, three soccer nets, a basketball court, zipline, fort, swingset, sandbox, large plastic toys, atvs to ride, bikes, balls, bats, rat-a-tatting big toy guns and a new mysterious large wooden structure being built back along our lot line, where they can’t hear it or see it from their house, like most of the other entertainment devices in the large yard. apparently not at all conscious of the it’s-a-neighborhood-you-live-in-a-community philosophy, surrounded by people who have actually resided right here for decades, they play loud music through outdoor speakers so the whole neighborhood can hear – though no one gets a vote on what’s played – and the children have a spicy – and foul – vocabulary and bloodcurdling screams they don’t hesitate to use. demonstrating antagonism seems the way in this land beyond the dead arbor vitae. goodness! when did the rules of neighborhood – the rules of neighboring – change? did they not watch mr. rogers? parents need remember children are always watching their lead. likewise, leaders need remember citizens are always watching their lead. and how precisely did we get here?
this day and age.
we could make a big pitcher of iced water with slices of orange and lemon and grill some (plant-based) burgers, play a little music – at an appropriate volume – and watch our new pampas grass grow. we could admire our newly-cleaned garage or the new green blades growing in the haynet out front. we could paint rocks to hide on our trail or plant a few flowers. we could speed-dial fred rogers. all are quite likely. well, except for fred.
and we could go see the fireworks.
but we won’t.
not in this day and age.
though it will be a statement we make only to ourselves, it will be comforting to dogga for us to stay home.
besides, some things are just too much. in this day and age.
reverse threading 