True stories, horoscopes, and the occasional advice column.
Subscribe to this blog
Follow by Email
Christina's World by Andrew Wyeth
I’m at a, “why bother” place right now with writing. I’m trying to change that, but it’s slow and painstaking, which is a lie. Slow and painstaking conjures up the painting, “Christina’s World”, right? As if I’m dragging myself up a steep hill using my frail little arms. It’s not that way at all. It goes like this: I sit down at the computer to write, but instead, play solitaire and think about how I wish I would write. Then I check FB to see if there’s anything I’ve missed, and usually there is. Someone has undoubtedly read something else on the internet that they think I should read, and so I do, or had a meal or a hassle that I should know about, or they say something cryptic that lures me into trying to figure it out the back story by researching (notice we’re avoiding the use of the word, “stalking”) them and their friends and their friend’s friends. Or, Emily Bazelon will post something interesting, like that Rick Santorum’s wife, Karen, was living with an abortion provider when she met Rick, that compels me to further research. (Wait, what does she look like? Is she the one with the huge round hair? Oh, no, that’s Callista. And does Anne Romney always look like a backstabber, or is it just that one picture?) And so on.
I thought maybe if I posted something, anything, even this confessional little paragraph, it would be a start. So there it is.
Twelve years ago, when Bush was re-elected, I felt sad. The nation seemed to have nonchalantly accepted being at war. We knew by then that there were no weapons of mass destruction in Iraq, the war that was killing and maiming so many was based on misinformation at best, and as a nation, we didn’t seem to care. My then teen-aged daughter fell into a depressive slump, and stopped wearing shoes as a way to denounce the way things were going. I was disappointed by the election, but not devastated. Four more years. We knew what we were in for, and though I was deeply disturbed, I wasn’t terrified. We would plod through. Here we are in 2016, and it’s a whole new ballgame. We watch, breath held, as the man who believes it’s okay to grab women by the genitals, spew hateful rhetoric against entire countries and religions, and seems unable to focus for more than a few minutes at a time, begins to take charge. I, like many of you, feel terrified and sickened. If it weren’t so disgusti…
I’m coming out today as a church lady. I know - sodowdy! I’ve been a Unitiarian Universalist my whole life, and deeply involved in my church for over twenty years. I know where the aprons are stored in the church kitchen, I’ve been to a billion potlucks and fundraisers and most of all, Sunday morning services. I’ve worked in the religious education program for 20 years and been the president of the Board of Trustees, been on the Social Justice committee, and done a million other things over the years. I have a key to the front door, fer godsakes. But I don’t talk about it much. I tend to be moderately private about my involvement in a church, because lots of people hear the word “church” or “organized religion” and it conjures up a vision of dogmatic haters. When people bash organized religion, I remain quiet, because I get it. I understand why so many thoughtful people of conscience are opposed to, or frightened by, organized religion. There are numerous examples of religion p…
Somehow, we need to carry on.We need to live our lives, show up
to our jobs and our friends and loved ones.Do chores, teach our children right from wrong, and work to
care for our little corner of the world. It feels impossible.Each day, for months now, a new outrage.Trump boasting that he grabs women by the pussy.Mocking a man with a disability.Planning to take his first weekend in office
off.Loading the government with old
white businessmen.And on and on.You know all of it.We sit here and love this country, love what
we want it to stand for: the land of the free, the home of the brave.Lifting our lamp for the oppressed.And being smacked in the face with the
reality that it never really was that.The dark seed of hatred toward people of color, people with different
sexual orientations, people without a penis, has blossomed into a terrible, intolerable
fruit. But we believed.We
believed, as Dr. King said, that “the arc of history bends towards
justice.”We believed that our imperfect