THIS MOMENT

I've been waiting for a day of high spirits, quirky humor, elation, and excitement to sit down and write this end-of-year post.  This is literally the last day of 2020 and I've not yet found that combination of good cheer to end my blog this year.  So, here goes... 

2020 was hard.  HARD!  But I'm not one to wish for the rapid passage of time.  I see lots of people writing about relief that 2020 is soon behind us.  In my mind, in my life, not one thing will change from today to tomorrow.  "Years" are a human construct; the events of one year or another are just among other long chains of events over time.  It's the present moment that is real...nothing past (only a memory), nothing future (only a guess).  Right now.  Right now.  This is what we have.

I have had to remind myself of this over and over and over again to stay sane in this time of Covid-19.  Fear, anxiety, sadness, loneliness, disappointment, despair, anger, RAGE (I'm looking at you GOP), had to be tempered repeatedly with the mantra "this moment", "this moment", "this moment".  I'm not always successful.  Ask Hub how many times he's had to listen as I processed fear, bitterness, sadness, and despair amongst tears that would not abate.  

But with the passage of time and the determination not to succumb to Depression and Anxiety Demons, over this year (and the previous) I have worked through many of my old behavior patterns, have grown in who I am, strengthening my resilience muscles, trusting my inner wisdom, finding courageous independence, and acting on my own behalf.  I feel I'm no longer swayed in the winds, no longer afraid of invisible monsters (we are all living with one, and know how to keep it at bay!), no longer longing for relationships that cannot be the way I want them to be.  My biggest pandemic lesson -- LET GO!  Or better yet, LET BE!  Embrace me, honor myself, live as I want to live, set boundaries, ask for what I want (I may or may not get it);  but know others will not act upon love as I act upon love: everyone is different, everyone will live as they do, almost no one will do it as I'd prefer, at least as consistently. Let go of longing.  Let go of trying so damned hard.  And just let be what is.

I had hoped (see above) that even with the physical distance, I could somehow (I tried lots of things!) bring my family closer together; we'd check in on each other more often, no longer able to count on seeing each other for those weekly dinners, etc etc.  Nope.  I tried reaching out frequently -- sending messages of encouragement and dropping gifts at doorsteps or in the mail, setting up Zoom calls, creating backyard distanced picnics.  I rarely felt my efforts reciprocated.  Does this mean my family doesn't love me?  That's how it felt to me. I just didn't understand how others would not think to call or text me several times a week.  I have friends who hear from their adult children daily.  DAILY!  Not in this family.  I've done too good a job emptying the nest apparently. 

I know how deeply I'm loved by my sons and their wives, but I can't by force of will create conditions for them to reassure me of that or to want to share the daily details of their lives with me.  So, finally, I stopped.  I wish it was different.  It is not.  A wish is not reality; it is a grasping for what my mind tells me I want.   We share a FB family messenger page and occasional informational texts, very occasional outdoor get-togethers, and holiday Zoom meet-ups.  I received perfect heartfelt gifts for Christmas.  Those avenues have been fun, funny, interesting, satisfying...and I'm grateful for that.  

This is all hard to explain, but the bottom line is this:  Others will live as they do.  I can wish or I can accept.  I choose to accept.  I feel stronger, more independent, and far less sad and disappointed.  Every situation is a choice point.  In the past two years I've had hard choice points to face.  In my marriage I've had to choose to set boundaries, to trust, to let go of expectations, to allow.  In my extended family I've had to choose to hold fast to distancing from those I love in spite of the pain of doing so.  In my own life, I've chosen to explore my inner landscape and to challenge myself to take risks; to move toward willingness which gets me to "yes" more quickly than the "maybe" that kept me dithering with pro and con lists.  I've chosen, over and over, to embrace my life in a way I have not in the past.  It has been a sometimes painful time of transition for me to a stronger more independent and more confident Self.  Some may believe I was always there...they are wrong.  I feel the difference.

So, yes, a new calendar year is on the horizon.  I have no idea what it will hold for me/us.  I am hopeful that a new Administration can begin to rebuild our democracy, right some of the wrongs, bring compassion back to our public policy.  I am hopeful the vaccines for Covid-19 will begin to wrestle this monster to the ground and our lives can again include hugs with loved ones; I am most hopeful my granddaughters will be able to visit us/spend the night and that our previously close relationship will  grow ever closer with shared experiences again. I am hopeful I'll continue to be blessed with physical health, emotional stability, and psychological growth.  Every moment is a choice point: I choose hope. 

Yet still I know all I have is "this moment...this moment....this moment..."

At least, that's the view from here...©

Photo Credit: www.pixabay.com

SIGH

I've been fighting all day NOT to write this blog post.  But my promise to tell the truth about my life is prompting me forward.  I have to believe we are all struggling -- maybe not in exactly the same way, but close enough.  See if you can relate...

December in American culture is the Christmas season -- whether sacred or secular you can't escape it.  There are traditions that are sacrosanct: lights, trees, Santas, carols, gifts, foods, parties, family gatherings.  This year there is also a deadly and highly contagious virus floating on the air amongst us.  This wrecks havoc with the way things are supposed to be.  

Throughout much of the past year we've dealt with inconveniences and disappointments and cancelled plans because of the Covid-19 pandemic.  We should be used to it; more resilient by now.  But THIS IS CHRISTMAS!  NOBODY MESSES WITH CHRISTMAS!  Right?

Here are the current stats:  U.S. 18.5 million confirmed cases; 325,000 deaths.  In my county: 19,000 cases, 338 deaths.  And it's getting worse.  Everywhere case numbers are rising.  Deaths are over 3,000 daily in the U.S. 

Given these grim statistics, what are we to do about Christmas?  Some, of course, are doing as they normally would, ignoring all pleas from responsible politicians and public health officials to please, please, please not travel or gather at Grandma's house.  The deniers have shown up at super spreader events throughout this nightmare, cocksure that the virus doesn't pertain to them, facts be damned.  A lot of them are getting away with it personally (who knows how many others they've infected or how much they increased the burden on health care providers?) but some have not and have lost their lives or at least life as they knew it. No matter, apparently.  No lesson learned.

But some of us have taken strict precautions, sacrificing holidays and hugs from the grandkids, trips, errands, haircuts, and dental appointments.  We've only seen the people we love via Zoom.  Nothing about our lives has been normal for nearly a year.  With two vaccines now approved and rolled out to the first priority recipients, we can see light at the end of the tunnel -- but must wait our turn in the queue -- which will take months to complete.  

While waiting we come up against Christmas, already a highly emotional holiday.  This year I find I am both relieved of any expectations of creating the holiday magic AND deeply disappointed and in grief about cancelling any family gatherings.  I won't see the grandkids opening their gifts, no Christmas Eve buffet with all the goodies we bring and share, no family jigsaw puzzles where Hub and my daughters-in-law reign, no Son-One naps by the fireplace, no hugs and laughs  and stories and memories to be made.  We will be each in their own little square on the Zoom app on the computer for an hour or so at some point.  That's it.  

We tried to negotiate a way around it.  We all say we are being "careful" but each part of our little extended family has a slightly different definition of careful and trying to accommodate that proved to be too hard.   We thought we'd be pretty safe if we were outside on our covered porch, heaters going, but with food and gifts and kids, we knew we couldn't distance enough or keep masks on...it just got too logistically daunting. Tensions rose at our house trying to figure this out; frustration reigned for all with each shift of plan.  So, we just called it off; not in anger but in defeat.  No one is happy.  Everyone is resigned.  We all still love and respect each other.  And this whole thing sucks.

I take comfort in knowing that we are sacrificing for a greater good -- our continued health and that of those we love and those in our community.  I take comfort in knowing that sometime in the coming months we will get the vaccine and can make up for lost time.  

Still, this is Christmas.  This is hard.  Harder than the other losses of togetherness.  Hub and I will be alone for the holiday for the first time in the 52 years of our relationship (48 married).  That's a weird thing.  But we are not the only ones in this situation and we are blessed to have each other and a warm comfortable home to isolate within.  I count my blessings....as the tears fall.

If you feel similarly, I see you.  I'm with you.  We can do this.  But we don't have to put a smiley face on it every damn minute.  

At least, that's the view from here...©

HALLMARK MEMORIES

Well, I had my usual little pre-Christmas cry yesterday.  My mother, gone for 12-1/2 years now, always comes for a visit in December haunting my bittersweet memories of Christmases past.  Every year, now fully aware of the work and worry and love that went into creating Christmas magic for the family, I think of her with deep love and gratitude.  The decorations, gifts, foods, traditions, gatherings...all of it was basically hers to do.  My dad helped with the tree.  It was a division labor in tune with the times.  She didn't seem to mind, and likely couldn't have imagined it any other way, but I know now how much effort went into making the holiday season shiny and bright for a family who mostly took it all for granted.

I know because I've felt the same at times, some years more than others.  I used to go all out with gatherings, outings, and festivities that ran us all ragged and so many traditions we almost had no room for spontaneity.  If I didn't create the Hallmark Christmas and others didn't respond in kind, I'd feel a failure.  Thankfully, over recent years I've left that self-imposed pressure behind.  Less work, relaxed expectations, more help from grown sons and my daughters-in-law and an appreciation for all Hub contributes and always has; I just was too much in my own world of striving for perfection to see it.

Over the past few years I've cut back dramatically on the home holiday decor; this year even more.  I hauled all the bins down from the attic, sorted through them all and chose about 1/8 of the stash of holiday bric a brac to display.  I chose favorite things or things easy to get out and put away.  At first I thought I'd just skip it all this year, but that didn't feel right.  It's still Christmas, after all.  Even if no one will be here to see my home for the holidays, Hub and I will be here and a little Christmas cheer and a tradition or two is nice, even in this most NON-traditional year.

My tears were also triggered yesterday by deciding to turn on some Christmas music.  Alexa chose a "holiday favorites" station for me and right out of the gate there was Dean Martin singing "Let It Snow".  I was transported to my childhood, singing along with my dad to these oldies on the car radio.  I was in the warm kitchen, dancing with him as mom baked.  I was parked in front of the TV, watching the Christmas specials with my mom and grandma, who lived with us.  Mom loved the Andy Williams and Perry Como shows, my grandma loved Lawrence Welk.  I loved them all -- the songs, the decorations, the holiday outfits, the fake snow...

Which brings me to a new tradition this year for Hub and me.  We are watching Hallmark Christmas movies together every night.  There are dozens of them!  I had not been a Hallmark Christmas gal until last year when my daughter in-law's good friend, a New York actress/singer, had a small part in one of them.  Of course I had to watch.  And I loved it.  I watched a couple more and vowed that this year I'd go all in.  

I tried to get Hub interested, but naturally he declined with a bit of an eye roll.  "You go ahead; I'm not interested."  I continued to tease and cajole, until one night, in a moment of tenderness toward me I guess, he said he'd watch one with me, as a lark.  He liked it!  We've had a nightly date now for over a week and look forward to the most recent incarnation of the usual plot (a variation on about three themes), evaluating the Christmas decor, locations, sets, costuming, wholesomeness (every time the drink of choice is "hot coco" we laugh), the chaste love story (apparently it takes only one week to find the true love of your life) that is consummated with the final scene kiss.  It's silly good fun.

I think this Covid-19 holiday season we are looking for some escape from the sadness, the isolation, the loss of tradition, the grief of missing families and friends gathering.  Watching it play out in the fantasy of a Hallmark movie somehow makes me feel less deprived.  

I get up every morning in the early darkness, and sit by my tree, lit but to date still without ornaments, looking around at the sparse decorations and feel grateful for all I have.  And I think of my mom, so near to me this time of year, wishing she could be here for Christmas too, one more time.

At least, that's the view from here...©

THE INSPIRATION STATION

On a trip to Portland about 5 years ago I saw a signpost on the street that read: Inspiration Station.  There was a sheet of paper tacked to it that had a quote of some kind and I thought it was such a lovely idea.  I told Hub I wanted one too!  We could put it by the street in front of our house and it would be a nice companion to the Little Library our neighbors across the street had erected.  I love the idea of creating a sense of community for passers-by.

That idea sat unrealized until a couple weeks ago.  I thought of any year, this one was one where inspiration was needed.  I announced I was going  to go to Lowe's and buy some lumber and make my own post and sign.  I had no idea how to do this, so I started looking on the Internet for purchase-able random parts to make manifest the vague image in my head.  This was apparently what it took for Hub to sit up and take notice, likely picturing some monstrosity marking the entrance to our home.  I admit he was probably right. He's much better at this sort of thing than I am.  Thankfully.

He stepped in and said he'd help.  We got down to business and got a clearer idea of what I wanted, went shopping for wood, post, and paint, plexiglass and fixtures. He went right to work with his saw and hammer, I painted when the time was right, he helped with spray painting the letters and assembled and erected the finished product.  We had to pull out an overgrown evergreen and sink the post into concrete at the site we'd chosen, so it was a bit of a chore, but we did it.  

I was amazingly excited and as happy as a kid on Christmas morning!  We called it my early birthday present; I was so grateful for Hub making this happen at long last.  The next morning I sat in my living room, staring out at the sign, just waiting for folks to stop by.  Waiting and waiting and waiting.  I thought they might need a little nudge so I shot an email off to the neighborhood email list announcing the Grand Opening of our Inspiration Station and invited neighbors to drop by for a look.  I got some lovely emails in return.  That afternoon I saw a few people walk by and stop to look and one guy even took a photo!

Since then (two weeks), traffic has been light at best, at least when I'm around to look out the window.  Lots of walkers and joggers and dogs and their people, but very, very few seem to look in the direction of our Inspiration Station or walk up to read the sign.   

Part of the problem is that we live on a narrow street with a sidewalk only on one side -- opposite our sign.  Some folks just walk in the middle of the street, but if they are on the sidewalk they would have to cross over -- no problem, since we have almost no traffic, but oh well, they mostly don't.  Any time I see someone approaching our house I start to try to will them to turn their heads our way.  But they generally do not.  

Here's what I'm observing about humans walking.  On the sidewalk, they generally look in the direction opposite our house, rarely turning toward anything in our direction across the street.  Or, they look down at their feet, never looking up at all!  Or they are looking at their phones as they walk, a skill I have never mastered given my tendency to run into things or fall off curbs when distracted.  Or they will glance, but have no curiosity about what they might see...even if they are being invited to spend a whopping 15 seconds reading something they might find uplifting!!!

Can you tell I'm a wee bit disappointed?  I had so hoped to provide a moment's respite, a moment of whimsy, a moment of reflection.  I had so hoped people would come back often to see the new inspiration I post every few days, perhaps even looking forward to it.  Hub says it's early days....takes awhile to notice and become part of the neighborhood.  I guess. 

Perhaps it's a marketing problem:  I plan now to add a dog water bowl to the stones at the base.  Maybe hang a wreath on the post.  Perhaps leave $20 bills taped to the frame.  

Or maybe the idea is not so much about gathering a crowd as it is to feel a sense of generosity about leaving a silent gift to as many, or as few, as stop to look.  When I look out there, or change the inspiration, I feel joyful, thinking about what Hub and I created together, about giving a gift to my community, about using my photographs and my grandkids' art to create backgrounds for the words of inspiration.   Sure, I'd love others to enjoy it.  And my greatest lesson, which I'm learning every day during the pandemic, is that I cannot expect others to live, love, "be" the same as me.  And that's OK.  I'm learning that only I am responsible for my happiness.  And my little sign makes me happy.

At least, that's the view from here...©

STILL DOING HARD THINGS

Some days it all feels like too much.  I try, we all try, to carry on with life "as normal" but what is normal? Many days I forget what normal even used to be.  

I know I am blessed and privileged and have very little to complain about in my physical world.  Lovely, warm home, great husband, family nearby, friends, enough food and money to not have to worry.  Creature comforts and loving support? Check.

Still, this morning I feel like the world out there is caving in and my safety is only an illusion.   Plus, I'm emotionally spent.  Saying that, there is also a voice in my head assuring me I'll be fine; I'll get through this rough patch and find hope and joy and connection again, but right now I also hear the voice full of woe and warning and feel my body responding with the familiar vertigo of anxiety.

Over on the yoga blog that I write I advised recently to 'be with what is'; that all things change, all circumstances pass.  Today I'm struggling to take my own advice.

The current president still has not conceded the election and is continuing his chaotic quest to challenge the results with legal action, lies, gaslighting, and inciting his followers (and his GOP cronies) to rise up in opposition to what is so obviously the truth:  he lost.   He refuses to allow President-Elect Biden any access to government agencies or information crucial to a peaceful and smooth transfer of power.  No amount of pleading and pressure will budge him.  

Consequently we are vulnerable on many fronts, including national security, but most immediately around the Covid-19 pandemic which is absolutely raging through the U.S. with astronomical numbers of new cases, and deaths, daily.  Biden has a plan for instituting a national response, but needs access to government agencies and information to get a leg up before he takes office.  He is being thwarted. 

We do not have, nor have we ever had, a coordinated national response to the pandemic.  It has been all lies, denials, and conspiracy theories, with a great swath of Americans thumbing their noses at science and refusing to take even the most basic precautions to protect themselves and others.  It's unconscionable. 

I am dismayed I have to live through this era of political upheaval where our American norms, values, and laws are being upended and ignored, where vitriol and violence (real and threatened) are the order of the day. I am dismayed I have to live through this era of pandemic suffering, ignorance, and blatant disregard for each other.  I am beyond dismayed that my grandkids will inherit this mess in some incarnation.  Our country won't be the same -- this is a time of historic change.  My prayer is that this darkness will be followed by light.  The jury is still out.

I try to turn to gratitude.  I am healthy.  So is my family and are my friends.  A vaccine is on the horizon, even if distribution will take many months to reach everyone; some say a year.  Biden/Harris will move into leadership on January 20 barring some catastrophic turn of events.  I'm grateful to live in a part of the country, in a state, where the governor is taking bold measures to try to protect us by establishing limits on social gatherings and mandating masks in public.  States which took early and consistent actions are not as impacted now as those who did not (and still do not).  

But as I watch the rain hit my window this morning, I look out upon a gray, wet, chilly world that seems to hold little promise for immediate respite.  My thoughts are with those who are ill, alone, dying; with their families in worry and grief; with health care workers and caregivers who are exhausted and nearly unable to go on; with all of us as we look ahead to a lonely Thanksgiving sequestered from the warmth and good cheer of family and friend gatherings just when we need it most. 

Had there been a bold and coordinated response from our government at the beginning, so much of this could have been avoided.  It did not have to be this way.  For that I am incredibly sad...and enraged.  Yet, this is what we have, where we are.  Be with what is.

I still have my little poster hanging up on a kitchen cabinet that says "We Can Do Hard Things".  It's been there since all of this started last winter.  We are still in it.  We are still doing hard things.

At least, that's the view from here...©

Updated statistics on Covid 19:  

In my county -- Cases since January: 11,934; Deaths: 258; rate per 100,000 people of newly diagnosed cases in past two weeks: 211.9 (the goal is to get this under 25!)

U.S. -- Cases since January: 11,903,133 million; Deaths: 256,658; over past 7 days, average of 162,816 new cases/day.

Photo Credit: raindrops.  Pixabay.com

LIFE ON THE FARM

We've lived on a 3/4 partially wooded acre for nearly 40 years.  It's in the heart of the city up on a hill with lots of historic houses (which in our area means, like 100 years old, tops, so I'm approaching "historic" too. LOL)  The part of the property that isn't wooded is spread out on three different levels and all of it requires a lot of tending.  It used to be a family affair.  So much so that our now adult sons have each purchased homes with very small yards and very little to tend.  So I guess we pretty much worked them into a PTSD situation they did not want to repeat.  We have had landscaping crews on and off over the years to help us, but they never really lasted -- either unreliable or not up to Hub's exacting standards.  So mostly we've done the "yard work" ourselves.  We've literally crawled over every square inch of dirt on this property multiple times.  I always dreaded the multiple "yard work" weekends over the seasons, sometimes in lovely weather, often also hot, or cold, rainy, and dark -- literally dark as in finishing after the sun went down on some occasions.

Several years ago, I finally got my long desired redesign of our side yard. A flat expanse of grass along the wooded ravine was transformed ("was transformed" as if by magic?  NO!  WE transformed it with sweat and back breaking work!) into a lovely "park-like setting" (as one of our re-fi appraisers phrased it) with berms containing perennial beds, new trees, shrubbery and three raised beds for veggie growing.  We had gone from "doing yard work" to "gardening".  It sounded very classy and we joined the ranks of those in our age group who call themselves "gardeners".  We did not necessarily love the work, but we did love the look of it all tended and blooming.  Still do.  I started to refer to my yard as "the garden", and it's been a busy place this Covid-year for distanced family picnics. 

In the lower yard, we inherited two 40 foot long rows of raspberry bushes set in a 15 x 40 foot patch of dirt.  We have no idea how long they were here before we bought the property in 1982, but they were well-established and very prolific.  

They have been a point of pride, and a nuisance, the entire time we've lived here.  The weeds grow in that area as prolifically as the summer berries, so that's a HUGE job every year, digging out weeds and crabgrass on hands and knees and muddy, wet bottoms.  Then the berry canes need to be contained with props and wire to keep them from falling all over the place.  Once producing, for about 3-4 weeks in late June and well into July, picking begins and gallons of berries come off the vines almost every day, needing to be frozen on flat cookies sheets then scooped into freezer bags and stuffed in every nook and cranny of the freezers, leaving no room for my veggie pizzas!  In fall all the old canes have to be cut out and removed, making way for the new ones to winter over and give us another crop.  Also more weeding.  At some point in the fall, we spend a day thawing all those berries and turning them into dozens of jars of jam that we give away and eat ourselves the rest of the year.  

I have felt at times like those berries rule my life and more than once have threatened to plow them under.  But alas, I would never do that because I apparently I also love them...not just the berries which are delicious, but the whole enterprise as a feature of our life on this land.  They have born fruit in years of tending and in years of neglect and we have enjoyed it in spite of the complained-about work.  It's not 4th of July at our house without fresh raspberry sundaes while watching the fireworks from our porch.

A few years ago Hub decided the "raspberry patch" was large enough to also house an apple espalier, so he found a grafted, 4 variety plant and propped it up on a fence and we waited for our apples.  Hmm...not super great, but last year just before our trip to NYC we saw that by the time we returned home we'd have our first decent harvest!  We returned home to a bare plant.  The deer had eaten every single apple.  

Early this summer Hub decided to build a deer fence around the whole area.  It was a lot of work.  But handy-guy that he is, he planned, purchased supplies, and built a 6 ft high fence with swinging gate.  I took one look and said,  "Now we have a farm!"  I think a fence with a gate qualifies as a farm feature.

So this summer, we've moved into farming.  The raspberries produced as they do, especially one end of the patch.  The apples grew big and beautiful.  We looked forward to apple pies and cobblers and just the sweet crunch of apple in the mouth.  In early October, after about three days of not looking,  I wandered down there to check if they were ripe enough to pick yet.  They were GONE!  Again we saw evidence of deer activity.  They'd jumped the 6 foot fence!  Hub said he should have made it 8.  Damn!  

As we stood lamenting, we also took another look at the berry plants.  One end of the rows seemed less happy than the other.  We didn't know why those plants had not produced well this year and did not look healthy --perhaps old age?  But we decided, hmmm, this might be an opportunity to reduce the raspberry load.  We decided to take half the raspberries out and replace them with blueberry plants. I thought when Hub said "a few blueberry bushes" it meant maybe three or four.  We came home with nine!  Three early season producers, three mid-season, three late season.  We expect to have blueberries from June to September, along with our July raspberry harvest.  So much for reducing work and opening up freezer space.

We spent last weekend doing the fall weeding, digging up raspberry plants we had decided to remove and bagging them to pass on to our sons, who decided to take them rather then see them in the "dump pile".  We spread 2-1/2 yards of "Garden Booster" compost with dairy manure, which did in fact remind me of my childhood driving through farmlands in Illinois just after spreading fresh manure.  We planted our blueberry bushes with a mixture of Garden Booster and pine needles to add acid, covered it all with a garden fabric to inhibit the weeds, and literally finished Sunday night after dark, by flashlight, just like old times. I look at our fenced berry farm with pride and hopefulness.  (We have yet to totally solve the apple/deer problem, but we have some ideas.)

Now that I'm a farmer, I may move into ranching.  However, ranching really does imply some sort of livestock.  Our big garden storage shed was an abandoned chicken coop when we bought this property but I really have zero desire to re-populate it with chickens.  About the only animal that really appeals to me to care for is a cat or two.  So if I could I get me a herd of cats for my ranching adventure, that would be great!  I'd have dozens of every breed!  I'd be a Cat Rancher extraordinaire!  "Hey, Hub...I have an idea!" Yippie Yi Oh!  Yippie Yi Yay!   

At least, that's the view from here...©

Kitty Photo Credit:  www.pixabay.com

DANCING IN THE STREETS

It's over (ish).  The election, fraught with so much discord, distrust, and disarray, has been decided.  WE WON!  Well, "we" if you were supporting the Biden/Harris ticket, which I most certainly was.  

On Election Night November 3rd we sat glued to the TV watching returns come in.  Nothing was decided by the time I went to bed at 10:00 PST.  Hub stayed up until 1:00 a.m.  We were back at the TV on and off on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday.  I couldn't take hours upon hours of hearing nothing but the trickling in of votes and ongoing commentary that was nothing more than speculation, so I went to bed early and then was awake at 4 a.m. tuning in to the overnight results, which continued to come in agonizingly slowly.  I did learn the names of important counties in Arizona, Nevada, and Georgia and could recognize all of their election officials by sight, for what that's worth.  I also know what the vote counters were wearing and how long they each worked and where they sat/stood to count.  I saw the current president's supporters chanting "Count the Votes!" in Arizona and "Stop the Count" in Georgia, depending on how their candidate was doing.  It was ridiculous, but pretty typical of his whole regime.

We had been warned that we might not know the result for many days given the Covid-induced numbers of states allowing mail-in ballots, with all of them having different rules on when votes could be counted and for how long.  We had been warned, also, that there would be a "red mirage" of early same-day vote reporting that showed the GOP candidate ahead, but that lead would disappear as the Dem. votes came in later from mostly mail-in ballots.

Still, by Thursday night we were no longer patient and no longer remembering that the "red mirage" was not reality.  We were, many of us, relieved to be ahead but dismayed, angered, and saddened to find that there would be no "blue wave" of overwhelming repudiation of the man in charge of the chaos of the last four years.  Some of us raged, sobbed, stomped our feet, and sat in mute disbelief.  (Well, at least one of us did.)  This was not how we had hoped it would go.  Nor was it what the pre-election polls predicted.  We are now finally and truly OVER listening pollsters.  Something has gone awry with their methodology.  

So, when all major networks announced a winner at around 9:30 a.m. on Saturday November 7, my overwhelming feeling initially was just relief.  Finally!  Then it sank in and euphoria arose.  WE HAD DEFEATED HIM!  After 4 years of his abuse, of a slide into deeper authoritarianism, of resistance and work and worry and oppression, of chaos and dismay and disbelief, we had said, "NO!"

Spontaneous parties erupted throughout the United States with video of major metropolitan areas showing people taking to the streets in joyful exuberant (masked) cheering, dancing, and singing!  And not only in the U.S.  -- people in European capitals joined in, with one correspondent musing that it felt like his experience of seeing dictatorships toppled.  Indeed.  Saturday was a day of celebration for sure, especially when we all settled in to watch Kamala Harris -- first woman/woman of color Vice President -- take the stage in her Suffragette white pantsuit, then Joe Biden after her to deliver a beautiful and moving speech about healing the soul of the nation.  Tears, joy, relief.  Overwhelming relief. Many, including me, described the feeling of as if a great weight had been lifted from our bodies.

Not all of us were joyous, of course. And that part is very troubling.  Here are the vote totals today:  Biden 76,408,662 (50.8%) 290 electoral ; Trump 71,495,756 (47.5%) 214 electoral.   A week later, only North Carolina (leaning Trump) and Georgia (leaning Biden) are still outstanding.   It was a record-breaking turnout, over 66%, with Biden winning more votes than any candidate in history.   But what that also indicates is a country divided along party lines that shows no sign of healing, yet.  

The current president has refused to concede, is pursuing a zillion simultaneous lawsuits in a variety of states (all defeated or thrown out so far) and has instructed the Justice Department to investigate voter fraud (with absolutely zero evidence of such) and will not allow the GSA to give permission to the Biden campaign to start the official transition process.  So there's that.  A bunch of his administration and Congressional sycophants and his citizen supporters are "all in" on this move to stage an electoral coup.  They won't succeed, but they will keep us mired in anger, chaos, and confusion -- and will play up the "stolen election" lie to keep their supporters violently and rage-fully blaming the "socialist democrats" for taking over their country and their rights.  It's scary.  And sad.  And infuriating.

And yet, something wonderful and important has happened.  We fought back against a credible threat to our democracy.   A majority of Americans chose experience, decency, and hope.  We chose a man of character and empathy, with vast experience in leading.  

And we chose a woman to be at the top (or near enough for now) -- a dynamic, intelligent, capable, joyful, charismatic woman of black and East Indian descent to be Vice President.  This is a phenomenal thing for me to finally see in my lifetime.  I had been an early and ardent Harris supporter for her presidential bid until she dropped out.  I happily switched my allegiance to Elizabeth Warren, whom I also adore.  But to have Kamala back and in charge is a gift I didn't expect to get.  There is a person in power who knows my lived experience as a woman, who is a role model for my granddaughters who will grow up in a world where it will seem impossible for them to believe this used to be unheard of...a woman at the highest levels of our government.  I feel like dancing.

At least, that's the view from here...©

THE NIGHT BEFORE...

 I don't really know what to say here.  It just seems like some thoughts, however confused and incomplete, should mark this occasion.  Tomorrow is Election Day.  But really we have been participating in an "election season" for weeks.  Tomorrow is merely the last voting day, not the first or only one.

Many states have done early voting for years either in person or by absentee ballot. Our state has been a vote-by-mail state since 2011; we receive our ballots about two weeks before election day and can vote up to midnight (postmarked or dropped at Dropbox) on Election Day. This year with the pandemic raging many more states have gone to vote by mail, some for the first time.  There are various new rules in place about when the ballots must be returned: some postmarked by election day and some returned by election day.  

Voter suppression tactics are rampant.  

Republican party bosses are taking counties and states to court to try to curb counting some ballots they deem 'late' or in defiance of some silly rule.  For example, even a Republican-appointed judge in Texas ruled that they cannot throw out nearly 130,000 ballots they say were returned inappropriately at a drive through dropbox location, which had previously been approved.  The Republicans then took the case to appeal at a Federal District Court where the conservative judge also ruled against them.  These lawsuits are frivolous and meant to slow the process down and sew seeds of doubt in the election process.

Tactics like these are happening especially in swing states and in areas where there is a majority people of color -- those who typically vote Democratic.  Closing polling places is also a favorite gambit -- creating geographical and time barriers to voting.  Voters must stand in long, long (6, 8, 10, 12 hour) lines to cast a ballot at the one remaining polling place.  Famously, an Administration hack was appointed Post Master General recently and he immediately dismantled sorting machines in certain post offices and removed street corner mailboxes as well.  He declared no more overtime to get mail delivered on time and the mail delivery has slowed to a crawl in some areas of the country to thwart mail-in voting.  

All of this and so, so much more is providing a greater, not lesser,  motivation for folks to be sure to vote, to be sure nothing stops anyone from casting their ballot, to be sure not to wait until election day to have their say.  Nearly 100 million people have already voted!  This is nearly 2/3 of the total vote in 2016.  We don't know what this means for the outcome, of course, but it bodes well we think, and at least demonstrates the determination of voters this year.  Why? 

The past four years have been a nightmare of chaos at the top levels of our government.  Norms, laws, values, traditions have been denigrated and turned on their heads.  Hate speech, name calling, lying, deception, gas-lighting, and corruption have been daily occurrences.  Americans are divided by ideology, culture, and deep dislike for one another (not to mention the casual and overtly intentional acting upon the racism, sexism, homophobia and xenophobia some thrive on.)  Many of us feel exhausted.  Many of us are not sure what to do if he wins another term, or even if he refuses to leave in defeat, as he has stated.  

On the other hand, many believe the lies they've been told that Democrats are closet socialists and are out to destroy America.  So they are motivated to "save" their country too.  

But here's what I'm thinking tonight, from my perspective:  

I'm amazed at the way so many have fought for a chance to vote him out, to vote early, to stand in long lines, to be undeterred. 

I'm grateful for wise, articulate, caring, compassionate people who will not give up, who will lead, and follow, and create, and keep going.  

I'm grateful for the people I've worked with to write letters and postcards to Get Out TheVote and for those who have made calls, sent texts, waved signs, reached out via social media, made contributions -- who have sacrificed their time, talent, and treasure to try to ensure a change for the better.

I'm grateful for the Facebook groups, the historians, the commentators, the people I will never know but who make up those with whom I am aligned and from whom I've gained knowledge, strength, and support.  

I'm grateful for the free press, for reporters who have been denigrated and threatened every single day and have still done the hard work of unearthing all the wrongdoing and letting us know about it.  

I'm grateful for Democratic elected officials who did every single thing they could to thwart this administration's wrongdoing even knowing they did not have the political power to really stop him; they fought with what they had and made sure everyone knew what was happening in spite of their best efforts.  

I'm grateful to know there are millions of American citizens who are just fine with a racist authoritarian in the White House.  I need to stop living in a fantasy of believing we are all in agreement on values; we are not.  I'll never again believe in the inherent goodness and rightness of the United States of America, believing as I did until 2016, that good people would not let a bad government survive and thrive.  They will and they will cheer for it.  

I'm grateful I now know how fragile our democracy is and how easily it can be lost. 

I'm cautiously hopeful about Biden/Harris winning the election.  And like many, the PTSD of 2016 kicks in like a bad luck charm the minute I express that optimism.  There is so much pain to overcome.

So, bottom line, I am grateful to believe, still, that fighting for diversity, equality, compassion, and democracy is a courageous act and that no one I know is giving up on that.  No matter what happens tomorrow, we are in this together.  We will get through and we will persevere.  No matter what happens tomorrow good people of goodwill will not be defeated.  Love wins.  Eventually, always, love wins. Let's start tomorrow.

At least, that's the view from here...©

WE HAD A SCARY PARTY

Of course, within days of our Family Halloween Party the newest Covid numbers in the County were released and they are not good.  In fact, they are the worst since last March when all of this was taking us by storm.  The rising numbers are for all age groups and mostly due to "roommate, friend and/or family indoor gatherings" where mask wearing is sporadic if at all. 

So, this morning, when I felt chilled (likely because it's chilly in the house with fall temps and damp fog permeating our living space), I assumed I had "The Covid".  I assumed this with the irrational fear, and absolute conviction, that comes with being an anxiety sufferer even when we do not have a deadly pandemic hiding in plain sight. (BOO!)  I did try to talk myself down, Hub reminded me I was using worry to project myself into a future that I didn't want (ICU, ventilator, etc, etc.),  and I meditated.  All were helpful to a degree.  And still....did we make a mistake with the party?

We spent weeks figuring out how to gather safely indoors now that outdoor gatherings would be slightly miserable (cold and wet).  We decided to clean and clear our garage, hang fabric shower curtain liners over the open shelving, string party lights, set up tables and chairs at least 8 feet apart for each family unit.  We had hand sanitizer and sanitizing wipes at the ready.  We told everyone that costumes were optional but masks were mandatory.

Hub should have a degree in indoor ventilation by now with his research into, and buying of, HEPA Air Purifiers -- six of them! -- set strategically in the garage and the adjacent Game Room (pool table, darts, foosball).  He opened doors and windows and put box fans in windows opposite to draw air through the rooms, creating adequate flow to eliminate "dead air" spaces.  He tested this by carrying a lit candle around watching which way the flame bent.  

When we all gathered (Son One and his family, Son Two and his wife) we went outside to the yard to do a Candy Hunt.  Having lost Easter to Covid lockdown, I decided to create the traditional Easter Egg Hunt, but with Halloween candies inside the plastic eggs.  The grand-girls loved it.  Then we came in to the snacks I had spent all day creating.  Big hit.  Our 11 y/o granddaughter brought a dip and some cookies too -- she's turned into quite the cook/baker!  Then we carved pumpkins together, displaying the finished masterpieces.  A light supper of homemade (all from scratch, of which I am inordinately proud, since I don't normally cook) pumpkin soup, chili, cornbread, and pumpkin cake for dessert came last.  A few of us played a game of pool, some sat and visited together.  Then it was over.  Days and days of planning, two full days of work to cook, set up, and orchestrate and it was over in about 3-1/2 hours.  We were exhausted.  But we think we created a safe and memorable experience.

Still, is that what every family thinks, even those who end up with Covid in their midst?  We did remove masks to eat, to sip beverages, but masks were on at all other times...except our little 5 y/o who has such a hard time keeping her mask on and her distance from us, but I noticed she's much better with the mask if she does come close.  We did stay at least (usually more than) six feet apart.  Even with all our ventilation, was this too big a risk?  I think of all those going to restaurants, maskless, surrounded by strangers, eating and drinking, and who knows which way the indoor air is blowing, if at all?   Our party had to be safer than that, right?

I will be so grateful for the day when seeing my family doesn't include the "countdown to symptoms" anxiety that I felt this morning.  This is Day 5 post-party.  So far so good....

At least, that's the view from here...©

THE SACRAMENT: UPDATED

In October 2012 I wrote most of what follows as the Obama/Romney election drew near.  I am updating it for 2020 with just a few tweaks.  For example, then I said I didn't like the new idea of mail-in ballots.  Now I love voting at home.  And this year, with the Covid 19 pandemic raging, there will be more mail-in voting in more states than ever before.  I also thought that 2012 was a very important election, and of course it was.  They all are.  But nothing in my lifetime compares to 2020.  

The hyperbolic declaration of "the most important election in our lifetime" finally lives up to the hype.  This is definitely it.  Our United States is anything but united and our Republic is in a world of hurt, as the tether to anything resembling democracy hangs by an ever thinning thread.  The current president, elected by the Electoral College -- not the majority of the people, has snubbed his nose at norms, values, laws, precedents, and the very Constitution, abetted by leaders of the Republican party such that we are now seen as pitiable by many countries, not mighty.  Our allies have gone silent, our enemies emboldened, our people violently divided.  Many of us feel we've been living with an immature, cruel, gaslighting, lying, psychologically abusing president and those who should be there to stop him and protect us have turned a blind eye at best, aided him at worst.  Yes.  This is important.  

My ballot arrived on Friday and I voted, as I did in 2012 when I wrote the original version of this post, but this time I sent up an extra prayer to go along with my sacred ritual.

THE SACRAMENT:

We are 16 days away from the 2020 Presidential election.  Everybody is pretty much sick of politics at this point.  Me included, even though presidential election years are like Mardi Gras to me.  Spectacle, tradition, ritual, absurdity, and at base deeply important – even “religious”.  I treat voting like a Sacrament.

Our state went to an all mail-in ballot voting system in 2011.  At first I didn't like it because I had loved going to the polls on Election Day.  It was high school civics class come to life.  My polling place was the local elementary school where my boys were students.  I saw familiar kids, teachers, neighbors, and poll-workers – a true sense of community.  I loved being handed my ballot and walking to the booth to cast my votes amid the hubbub of activity around me in the school cafeteria.  It reminded me why I was voting at all.  I loved getting my “I VOTED” sticker, which I wore proudly the rest of the day, like ashes on my forehead.

Now I have a different voting experience.  My ballot arrives in the mail about 2 weeks before the election.  I don’t open it until the day I set aside for voting.  At that point I sit at the dining room table with my Voter’s Pamphlet and a cup of coffee.  I become quiet, focused, and intent on making my final decisions.  I might read once more about each initiative, the “for” and “against” arguments.  I might read once more the candidates statements.  And then I fill in the bubble next to the name of the one I’ve chosen to vote for with great care, ensuring the little oval is completely filled in with no extraneous marks.  I feel like the altar guild ladies preparing for communion.  Everything just so.  Because I want to be sure my vote will count – no errors.  Then I put the ballot in the envelope and sign my name carefully where indicated.  Instead of mailing it, which I could, I drive to County Building Dropbox downtown, to slide my envelope into the slot, ensuing my vote is delivered by my own hand.  Amen.

This may sound seriously neurotic.  To me it feels seriously patriotic.  Voting is a right, a responsibility, and above all, a privilege.  I think it is the most amazing thing, this representative form of government of ours.  It’s broken now, I know that.  Money, lies, betrayals, foreign attacks, gerrymandering, voter suppression, apathy, cynicism…it’s all in stark evidence this year.  That makes me sad for our country, for our democracy.  But I won’t give up.  I still believe my vote counts.  The only way we lose this grand experiment, this model of democracy that people in other lands are literally dying to emulate, is to stop voting.

My vote is my prayer of thanks for our nation's flawed, but visionary founders; for those soldiers who fought for independence and freedom;  for the women who marched and were jailed and tortured to win me, their sister, the right to cast a ballot alongside men; for the Freedom Riders who stood shoulder to shoulder with their brothers and sisters to desegregate the south and eventually win the right to vote for all.  Our history is about preserving – and serving – this big, messy, majestic United States of America.

My vote is also my prayer for hope for the future.  It really does matter who is in the White House and what that person’s vision and leadership will manifest.  It really does matter who is in the Congress and whether their positions on issues, which will become the laws we must all obey, are those which will benefit all Americans.  It really does matter who sits on the Supreme Court and is the final arbiter of dispute, interpretation, and enactment of those laws.  Our vote is our voice, representing our values and world view.  Who we vote for says almost everything about who we are and what vision we hold for future generations.

How can we do anything less than to cast a vote for those who are most likely to embrace the inherent dignity of every person within our borders and set policy that will respect, uplift, and benefit every one of us?  How can we do anything less than to take this right seriously, cast our vote joyfully, and shout “Halleluja!” on Election Day? 🙏🏽🇺🇸

At least, that’s the view from here…© 

Photo Credit: www.pixabay.com

FOG

I am not sure where I've been...

Well, I've been exactly nowhere since I'm still 90% staying home because turns out there is still a Covid-19 pandemic raging and the numbers are going up locally, but today I feel I've emerged from a bit of a foggy inertia that has kept me from writing here. 

Catching up:

I did a 4-part series in September on my yoga blog about the Enneagram (personality typing) and I think I'll repeat it on this blog sometime.  It's where my brain has been -- studying the Enneagram to explore my inner landscape, my motivations, habits, responses to life events.  It's fascinating and helpful and has given me valuable insight into old ways of being that no longer serve me.  All of this has come up as I continued to marvel at the various ways my friends and family are responding to the pandemic.  But beyond that I have found growth points to work toward that have nothing to do with the Covid crisis and everything to do with finding a healthier way to express my basic personality type in relationship with others.  

This all sounds rather vague here, I know.  Suffice to say, I've been lost in my books, notes, podcasts, and practices.  I love it and it's been incredibly psychologically and emotionally draining -- doing inner personal growth work is necessarily about relationships (with oneself and with others) and that makes it complex, difficult, and ultimately rewarding.  And also, yes, exhausting.  

Also in September we were visited by ten days of unhealthy air due to the smoke descending from wildfires raging in California, Oregon, and Washington.  We kept doors and windows shut tight and looked out into the yellow-gray haze of what should have been sunny, warm late summer days.  It was depressing and scary -- portents of a climate crisis future.

Once the smoke lifted, I went out to my garden.  I decided to stop waiting for help with the "heavy gardening" and just try to tackle it myself.  I spent hours digging out ten huge clumps of bearded irises that were taking over various locations and crowding other plantings out.  Each clump took me between 5 and 20 minutes to unearth, kicking the shovel under the root ball over and over, incrementally levering the root ball up from the earth, then hauling garden cart after garden cart away to the dump pile.  I did the same with four peonies that I transplanted.  I cut back the yellow leaves of my five big hostas, pruned other things back, transplanted a few perennials, mulched some transplants....I sound like a real gardener here.  I have no idea what I'm doing.  I Google everything and hope for the best.  

I feel pretty proud of my work though, and have a sense of satisfaction about taking the initiative and successfully completing hard physical work tasks that normally I might have stewed about and grown frustrated waiting for "manly muscle" help.  (See personal growth work above.)  I'm basically a genteel gardener, but I did it!  Woman!  Roar!  

We've had 4-5 days of rain lately, so I figure all of that garden work and transplanting is getting a nice soaking now and that has to be good, right?  I still have to weed and cut back last year's canes in the two 40 foot rows of raspberry patch, cover the raised beds with some compost and mulch, and generally finish the whole "put the garden (and garden furniture) to bed" chores of Autumn.  I always find it a bit depressing; winter is not my favorite season in this northland where the darkness and rain feels oppressive already.

And then there is politics.  I'm hanging on by my fingernails.  I find my ability to keep attending to the daily outrages waning.  I can hardly stand to read/watch about the latest debacle of decency and assaults on democracy.  I feel if I start writing about it here, I won't be able to stop -- and I'll likely forget something because every day is chock-a-block full of awful: Covid raging (and fights over mandated attempts to slow it); the current White House occupant behaving like a petulant child at the presidential debate; the Covid epidemic hitting the Administration (33 tested positive -- some refusing to have the test; the president and first lady testing positive, then declaring they are "cured" and that the virus is not a big deal, so don't worry about it. Tell that to the 210,000 families of Americans who have died.); a far right wing conservative nominated to fill Ruth Bader Ginsburg's seat on the Supreme Court and the GOP rushing the hearings to get her seated prior to the election; voter suppression tactics in full force; a president who is undermining the validity of the election and refusing to leave office unless he feels the election has been "fair" (with him being the decider on that).  Then there is the ongoing lying, gaslighting, ridiculing...

So, my response has been to stop checking my phone for the latest news. (I literally leave it upstairs in my bedside table only checking for updates a couple times a day.)  I have signed up with organizations working to write postcards to GOTV (Get Out The Vote) with Postcards to Voters, Reclaim Our Vote, and Moms Rising (over 200 written to date.)  I have also completed 100 letters for Vote Forward.  I took a text-banking training and know I should get busy on that too.....and I'm tired.  If I were a marathon runner I would not be one who gets a second wind....I'd be the one crawling, panting and bloodied, across the finish line.  At least the polls are looking good for our side...and then 2016 flashbacks pop into my head and I'm back wondering what more I can do.  I can't do nothing.

There is a word I've discovered for this fog of overwhelm: acedia.  Physical and emotional isolation (covid), along with a steady barrage of bad news (politics, social unrest, climate crises), creates feelings of listlessness and anxiety, which is a legitimate response to the current predicament.  Some may think this is depression, but it feels different.  It feels to me claustrophobic -- not hopeless in the same way as depression; more like impatient and agitating, with no way out.  The point is, this is a valid feeling to have and it has brought me lately to a place of inertia: "bored, listless, afraid, and uncertain". *

I hope the urge to write today means I am returning to the land of the living -- emerging from the fog with clear-sighted resilience.  No matter what happens on any of these fronts, the task is to keep moving forward, questing for a fully lived life of self-awareness, connection, growth, and commitment.  

Also, I may take a nap.

At least, that's the view from here...©

Photo Credit:  pixabay.com

*Resource: "Acedia: the lost name for the emotion we are all feeling right now", by Jonathan Zecher, writing for 'The Connection', August 2020

WHAT WOULD YOU DO FOR YOUR COUNTRY?

 "You now know what you would do for your country if your country was ever in this much danger.  It's whatever it is you're doing right now.  What you're doing now, what you're planning to do for the next six weeks, that's what you're made of." -- Rachel Maddow, MSNBC 9/23/20

"There is no more time for silence.  ... All women and men of conscience must speak or they are complicit in America lurching towards a dangerous cliff of autocracy and chaos." -- Dan Rather, Veteran Journalist

"This is how democracy dies." -- Adam Schiff, Chair of the House Intelligence Committee

These are just a few responses to an Atlantic article published yesterday outlining the current president's plan to steal the election.  We already know there is an active Russian influence campaign to try to disrupt and discredit our election.  The current president is aware of this and complicit in it as he uses the exact same talking points:  The election is "rigged"; mail-in ballots are fraudulent; we can't trust the outcome.  He is suppressing the vote in many states through arcane voting laws, gerrymandering, closing polling places, and slowing down the mail by appointing unqualified crony as Postmaster General who has removed mailboxes and dismantled sorting machines in mostly large Democratic cities, but in other areas too.  He is preparing a legal battle if he is not declared the winner on November 3, and is planning a work around to appoint Republican electors chosen by state legislatures who will cast votes for him by overriding the will of the people due to "vote fraud".  Eventually this would go to Congress and the Courts, leaving the U.S. in chaos for weeks/months with the endpoint a victory for him, since by then he plans on having made his third far right wing Supreme Court appointment on the Court.

Yesterday, when asked by a reporter if he would commit to a peaceful transfer of power if he loses the election, he said, "Well, we're going to have to see what happens.  You know that I've been complaining very strongly about the ballots and the ballots are a disaster.  Get rid of the ballots and you'll have a very -- we'll have a very peaceful -- there won't be a transfer frankly, there'll be a continuation."  He also noted, "I think this will end up in the Supreme Court and I think it's very important that we have nine justices, and I think the system's going to go very quickly.  Having a 4-4 situation is not a good situation."

*******************

I know I'm living through history.  

I know that these years of a corrupt, chaotic, and despotic presidency will produce a library full of books that my grandchildren may have to read for their history classes. (Are there still history classes?)  

I know this election is a defining moment for the United States of America and its experiment in democracy.   

I know that the death of Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsberg last Friday was a jolt to women, who knew that without Justice Ginsberg discrimination on the basis of sex might still be rampant, not to mention the vacancy she leaves may push the Court to the far right, endangering abortion rights, affordable health care, LGTBQ rights, safety regulations, religious freedom, immigration, the upcoming election, and on and on.  

I know that the social/racial flashpoint that is occurring right now in response to police killings of black people is a wake-up call for all of us and a moment when, finally, some white people are seeing past their own privilege to take to the streets with their black brothers and sisters to demand an end to systemic racism.  

I know this summer's record number and size of wildfires and hurricanes is the earth's way of crying out for healing.  A thick blanket of toxic smoke covered whole states, and our town, for two weeks.  We barely left the house, keeping all doors and windows closed on what should have been beautiful summer days, had the sun been able to penetrate the smoke.

I know this Covid-19 pandemic, which has now infected nearly 7 million Americans and killed over 200,000 is not slowing down, not going away, and may be only one in a long string of similar health-related deadly consequences of climate change.

The world is turning.  Sometimes I think all of this is a purge.  We are at the point of change or die, in many ways.  Incremental change, half measures, and good intentions are not cutting it.

So....what am I doing?  How am I responding to my country being in this much danger?

It turns out there are few flashy heroic measures for most of us.  Most of us are just trying to survive this swirling chaotic storm, take care of our families, find some measure of happiness and contentment.  But my motto is "If we all do a little, it adds up to a lot." I'm doing a little.

I am passionate about the right to vote.  I am passionate about making sure everyone exercises that right. I am taking that passion to my desk, volunteering with four different organizations to write letters and postcards to prospective voters, especially in Swing States, especially under-represented people of color, to urge them to register and vote in this election.  I write and write and write.  I buy lots of stamps.  I pour my heart into each message, envisioning a person reading my words and maybe, just maybe, being moved to cast a vote.  I realize these cards and letters may also go directly into the trash, but studies have proven that a hand-written note to a specific person increases voter turnout 3-5%.  Sounds paltry, but adds up to several million potential voters at the polls.  I've written a couple of hundred notes and still going strong.

I also plan to do shifts of text banking for Democrats once I figure out the tech expertise I need to get up and running.  I am intimidated by it, but it feels like a teeny tiny thing to figure out compared to doing nothing after the letter/card campaigns end in mid-October.  The last push will be phone calls and texts.  I can do that.

I'm donating to candidates -- not just for president, but for key Senate races.  

I'm posting pro-Democrat information on social media -- a countdown to Election Day (a bit of a misnomer, since over half the states have already begun absentee and early voting), and Biden/Harris positions on various issues.  I'm hoping my FB friends will pass these on to their FB friends, but so far I'm not seeing any 'shares'.  Still, I do what I can.  

What I can't do is worry too much that others aren't joining in with activism.  Maybe some are and I don't know it.  Maybe some just aren't interested.  Maybe some are too busy, too tired, too distracted, too overwhelmed, too cynical, too afraid.  Over the past few years at various times my political buddy and I have tried to organize and enlist friends in joining us in calling legislators, writing letters, etc.  Not much interest, so we gave up.  In this time of physical distancing, we can't even try to gather anyone together, and she and I don't even see each other in person, so I am going solo.  I've found some enthusiastic online groups, have taken some fun and inspiring online trainings, listen to a few political podcasts -- all of which keeps me informed and motivated.  I do what I can.

So, what am I doing for my country?  I'm trying.  I'm eating healthy, walking regularly, practicing yoga and meditation, seeing my family with distance and masks when I can, calling and Zooming with friends, feeling deeply connected to and grateful for my husband, growing some of my own food, learning and writing about the Enneagram personality types to better understand myself and others,  paying attention to the news of the day, finding rest and relaxation amidst also clutter-busting this big old house.  I am living the best life I know how to live, alive to each moment, and ready for whatever comes.  And I am 100% committed to the actions I can take to preserve our democracy, to elect leaders who share my values and vision of a world of equality, compassion, diversity, generosity, and justice. 

I'm writing some letters, donating some money, sending some texts, making a few calls.  It doesn't seem like nearly enough.  But...If we ALL do a little, it adds up to A LOT!  No doubt there is something you can do too.  It's time to do it. 

At least, that's the view from here...©

OLD IS NOT BAD, JUST DIFFERENT, AND OCCASIONALLY ANNOYING AND/OR TERRIFYING AND/OR JOYFUL

 

In the past six Covid months, I have aged.  

My physical appearance has changed noticeably.  There is no denying the grayer hair, the deeper creases and wrinkles, the saggier jowls, the crepe-y skin on the inside of my arms, my thighs, the backs of my hands.  No amount of moisturizer seems to take the years away.  Of course, this was happening anyway, and maybe I didn't notice.  I also still blame that cataract surgery last fall -- non-soft-focus eyesight can be startling in front of the mirror.

I still, occasionally, put on a little mascara and blush.  I do not wear any jewelry except my wedding band and the cheap little turquoise ring I bought at a sidewalk gift shop at the Boulder Dam in 1974 and have worn every day since, its original Native etchings worn smooth over the decades.  I put earrings on one day and felt like a floozy.  Too much.  I took them out.  I do wear my Fitbit, but those have never been confused with jewelry -- they are devices, which is different.

If I leave the house I put on a sports bra.  Otherwise...the girls go free.  I wear black leggings every day with one of a dozen cotton T-shirts with some political or yoga message on the front, or maybe a hoodie on cool days.  My Oofos flip-flops are a constant, unless I don my Addis's for a walk.   I wear ball caps on bad hair days -- or a pony tail, or pig tails.  My hair has gotten very long.  I cut my own bangs; maybe you can tell.

All of my houseplants are thriving because I'm good at houseplants normally, but now they are getting extra TLC.  I replanted all my African violets, which they never like.  Like me, they are homebodies, even if their homes are way too crowded for them.  There were traumatized by the move; I can relate.  But this morning all are strong and healthy and 4 of the 6 are flowering.  Aren't African Violets the epitome of an older woman's houseplants?  I should also have a cat.  I would if Hub didn't object; I think there are meds for that allergy issue, but being a considerate wife I'm sticking to my vow of no more cats after over 30 years of making him endure sharing our home with a bunch of them over time.

Technology stymies me at times.  Easy stuff becomes nightmarish.  The other night Hub and I watched a Tom Hanks movie on Apple + .  I still have no idea why that channel shows up on my TV from a little box Son Two installed; I just know it does, and we watch.  We got a year free of Apple + when we bought our iPhones last year so maybe that's it?  Dunno.  I do know it has added a 4th remote to the three it already takes to watch TV -- one for the TV, one for DISH, one for the receiver.  Now one for the Apple box. Last night we wanted to watch something on Showtime and my brain went blank as to how to access Showtime On Demand.  We spent a good 20 minutes trying various screens, scrolling and backing out of this and that screen.  Then I realized one of the remotes was not even working, so I changed the batteries.  Still nothing, and I said we'd have to give up and do something drastic, like read a book or something, but Hub grabbed the remote and discovered I'd installed the batteries upside down, which I frequently do even when I try super hard to get it right, like I did last night.  

Anyway, back to Tom Hanks... the movie wasn't that good.  ("Greyhound" -- new release straight to streaming because there are so few theaters to show movies these days.)  It was a WWII Navy battle movie, reminding me of all the WWII movies I watched as a kid.  This one had echoes of "The Enemy Below" -- a classic fave.  It was intense at times.  The story of those Nazi subs and their torpedoes cutting through the waves aimed at our hero's destroyer and all those fresh-faced sailors was nail-biting!  But not scary enough for my resting HR, usually in the 70-80 BPM range, to shoot up to 160 per my Fitbit.  

I kept an eye on my heart rate as I got ready for bed and it stayed high.  I started to take deep calming breaths.  I started to feel palpitations.  I started to feel a twinge of pain, perhaps in the left chest.  I did what any normal person would do in this situation, I googled "racing heartbeat" and "heart beat: how high is dangerous?".  I checked the monitor about every 10 seconds.  When Hub came to bed I casually mentioned I seemed to be having a wee bit of tachycardia.  He put on his placid doctor face, sat on the bed next to me and took my wrist in his tender, professional hands to check my pulse. 76 BPM.  I questioned his pulse-checking skill since he IS retired and my Fitbit said at that moment 151.  He defended his 35 year career in medical practice with the suggestion that it might be a Fitbit problem.  We had a good laugh at yet another episode of me foiling the Grim Reaper and I went to sleep reassured.  This is not the first time I've been at death's door; health anxiety sucks.

So the next day, with Fitbit HR still soaring even though I was sitting in a chair, I spent about 2 hours over three contacts throughout the day, on the Fitbit Help Chat following their instructions, performing all manner of reboots, clearing of data, uninstalling and reinstalling the software and finally they agreed it was malfunctioning and they are sending me a new Fitbit.  Upside, that falsely racing heartbeat also tricked Fitbit into thinking I was exercising and it gave me about 3 hours of "active minutes" for the day.  Nice.  I can claim that on my Silver Sneakers app and get points toward Amazon Gift Cards!  (Shhh...don't tell.)

I think I've become a stereotype, but maybe I've just come to the realization that we all grow older as life progresses and we forget to pay attention.  I look around my home, which I love, and see how it might look to a younger person.  They would not want the beautiful china hutch filled with my grandmothers' pretty dishes.  They have no memory of the hand-painted cookie jar full of hard candies at Grandma's house in Indiana, nor the sweet green figurine I won at the 5th grade Mother-Daughter Tea at my elementary school.  They might not want the 25 year old multi-colored chair in the room off the kitchen that I still love, even if a bit worn, because I can see the frayed fabric made so by numerous kitty claws, reminding me of hours of sitting there with a purring cat on my lap.  They might not know the fancy carved old table in the guest room was made by a distant relative or that the blue and white quilt was made by a cousin of some sort while recovering from injuries sustained in the Spanish-American War.  In fact, they might know and just not care.  Kids these days don't prize that old stuff.  

And, today, I'm feeling like Old Stuff too.  It both saddens and amuses me.  In many ways, just a few months shy of turning 70, this is one of the best times of my life.  I am free to create my days as I please. I am pretty healthy (when I'm not fretting about NOT being healthy).  My marriage is good, my kids are close by, my granddaughters are adorable.  I  have friends, even if physically distanced right now. And I have a new appreciation for the precious precariousness of life.  

Also laughter.  I have that.  Life's elixer.

At least, that's the view from here...©

ABOUT HAPPINESS

I have a friend who told me he recently came to this blog and enjoyed reading, but said he was worried about me because I worry so much.  I asked him to elaborate, but he demurred.  So, I'm unsure what caused him to think I'm such a worrywart.  Perhaps it was a couple posts ago when I talked about being a wee bit depressed about this state of things:  But, it's not as if there isn't a life-threatening pandemic, democracy hanging by a thread, social unrest, and far, far too few instances of being able to see my grandkids.  I think I try to put lipstick on the pig most of the time, but hey, some days are just a little ugly.   

So, this post will be about the happiness this pandemic brings to my life!  

First, it's summer.  We've pandemic-ed through mid-late winter, all of spring, and now most of summer, with no end in sight.  But hey!  It's warm and sunny and 75 degrees and I am right now sitting under a tree in my garden hearing kids across the street playing and laughing, chickadees and hummingbirds chirping as they flit to the feeder and the birdbath, noticing my geraniums are still blooming bright red, the bubbler fountain singing a soothing song of cool waters.  It's a bit muggy, but the slight breeze is enough to cool my brow and I'm sipping my ubiquitous Lime LaCroix. (I'm addicted, but better this than my old friend Chardonnay -- this summer makes 9 years alcohol-free, which is another thing to be happy about!)  These summer days are already showing signs of packing their bags and heading to the dark zone -- sunrise is later, sunset earlier.  A few maples are going golden.  The garden harvest is 90% finished.  Nevertheless, I am savoring every single minute of these outdoor days, especially since outdoors is a relatively Covid-safe place to be.

Second, Hub and I are still sort of honeymooning our way through the year, approaching our first anniversary (after 48 years of marriage) of last September when we faced and worked hard to address the earthquake that rumbled through our marriage in 2019.   What a surprising gift to find us closer after all this time.  Marriage is hard and easy, sweet and sour, and totally unpredictable.  It's also demanding.  You can't ignore and push anger, resentment, disappointment, and weariness away and expect to be doing much better than going through the motions at times, even when you have a gift for and a desire to learn and grow together.  Even with that considerable boxful of personal growth tools, there are still challenges because marriage is still between two separate people with two separate ways of perceiving and coping.  But we've rediscovered our easy comaraderie, risked a no-holds-barred truly honest way of talking things out, created a flow of moving through our days together, pursuing our own interests while making ample time to be together, that is agreeable and loving.  Also, lots of sex. (Masks optional. HAHA)

Third, the internet.  I know, we demonize the online life.  It can be addicting to some, with its siren call of continuous stimulation and non-stop scrolling through social media for the next silly meme, outraged headline, cute cat pic, recipes, classes, and ads, ads, ads.  Still, I love signing on and posting about my life and absolutely love when my friends do the same.  I've deepened friendships with some during this physical distancing time and have kept in touch with others, hearing their pandemic-life tales from far away.  And then there's Zoom, which has been both a challenge and a joy, but either way I am grateful to see the faces of those I care about. 

Also, the internet has brought a few lovely antidotes to the sadness, loneliness, and claustrophobic fears we have all faced at times.  I am in a few FB groups, all formed in response to the Covid world, whose sole purpose is to cheer:  

"Garden Therapy" is a local group (gone beyond local as friends of friends have joined from afar) of mostly pictures of our gardens, with queries for advice and sharing of info.  People creating beauty from nature in their own backyards.  

"A World of Hearts" is an international group where people started decorating their doors and windows with "heart art" from kids' homemade cutouts to fancy decals to stained glass masterpieces.  Lately there are photos of "found hearts" -- rocks in heart shape, tree bark revealing hearts, stream waters creating eddying hearts.  It's a lovely sentiment....to send this heart love around the world.

Speaking of world, there is another group called "The View From My Window" where locked down people everywhere -- literally all over the world -- have posted what they can see from their windows, yards, porches, neighborhoods.  Some views are spectacular and some are of small patches of grass surrounded by chainlink fencing.  People comment with where they are viewing from and the world becomes smaller as those stuck at home find companionship across the globe. 

"Spreading Kindness" is a group which shares inspiration mostly in the form of uplifting memes.  I used one to illustrate this post.

On the micro-local level, I started a periodic "Neighbor Check-In" email outreach to those who live on my block.  Many of us are basically introverts. We don't often talk in person, each keeping to our own lives, homes, gardens -- but in the early days of the lock down, it was weird to never even see anyone outside: no walks, no deliveries, no cars coming/going.  I realized that even if we didn't socialize much, we knew the rhythms of each others lives in that silent way that neighbors do.  So I decided to do a "check in" and the emails were returned with delightful, revealing, heartfelt sharing about our experiences with life and the Covid shock, all appreciating the connection. 

Fourth, "random acts of kindness" bring me joy.  A friend of mine organized a pizza delivery to the local hospital for the frontline workers when things were particularly stressful in April.  She solicited donations from friends and family and managed to get $400 worth of pizza delivered, with late donations combined in a gift to the local food bank.

Inspired by her, I started a "Letters of Love" Campaign among my FB friends to send letters or postcards  of appreciation to local hospitals, clinics, and long-term care homes.  I collected all the addresses and announced the recipients to write to each week. We sent these, two or three letters every week , for two months, reaching out to four local hospitals, six local clinics, and ten long-term care facilities.  Amazingly I got three letters of thanks back and word from one clinic worker I know well who told me our outreach was highlighted in their multi-site, clinic-wide newsletter.  

I continue alone to do occasional appreciations to "essential workers".  I've left goodies and cool drinks for the letter carrier and garbage/recycling pick-up guy.  I've sent letters to my local groceries stores and words of encouragement to people I know who work in "essential" jobs that didn't allow them time off.  Note to self: Do more of this.  It's so easy to show ongoing appreciation.

So, see?  It's not all tears and disaster planning.  Life is a precious thing.  If nothing else, this pandemic time has softened me, made me appreciate small kindnesses.  My heart has opened to the simple things, to the love, friendship, and connections that will find a way, even when the usual way is barred.

Do I still worry?  Well, sometimes.  But no one need worry about my worry.  It has its place, but it doesn't consume the whole of me.

At least that's the view from here...©