What shall we talk about?

 Last night at a quiet supper table, Christian said something to the effect that we no longer have politics to talk about. It’s true—we had lively discussions, mostly about what was wrong with the trump administration. Jacob asked penetrating and smart questions, forcing us to articulate our beliefs clearly. And then we won an election. I have visions of dinner tables across the country falling silent.

Social media is a new world too. I used to spend far too long prowling through comments. Two things have changed: fewer people are commenting on platforms like Facebook, and I have vowed not to respond to snark and lies and conspiracy theories. And that’s what mostly remains—the alt-right cannot stop complaining, rationalizing, attacking, and lying. Not worth my time. I will never convince such people of the folly of their thinking, and I’m not going to waste my breath trying.

And yet this is probably the wrong time to remain silent. Mid-term elections are in two short years, and the right is pulling out all the stops. Matt Gaetz, Jim Jordan, that awful Greene woman, and others are all over the internet, and we cannot, must not allow them to dominate the conversation. It is crucial for those of us who support President Biden’s agenda to put our views out there in a rational, nonconfrontational way. And for many of us that requires some education—it is no longer enough to post from an emotional, gut-wrenching fear of or dislike of trump.

Christian’s take on it is that he wants to learn everything he can about the Keystone Pipeline that Biden has halted. I’ve been reading about it too. Like pandemic and almost everything in our country, it comes down to the pull between the environment and humanity vs. profits and jobs. The Keystone, so I read, transports sand tar, which is dirty oil, for shipment to China, I believe. It is not destined for the U.S. but crosses our lands, including sacred native lands and those with depleted water supplies. When it leaks, it fouls water and is difficult to impossible to clean.

Constructrion of the pipeline has created jobs, lots of jobs, but the completed line will create only 35 permanent positions. Meantime the oil is transported by truck and water, which creates thousands of jobs. Once completed a pipeline would eliminate those jobs. So it’s a question of who is employed. Finally, I read a cogent article that suggested that the pipeline was an idea whose time came fifteen years ago. Today it is an anachronism.

My take on it is that we must, we absolutely must put the environment above all else. The doomsday clock is far too close to midnight, and President Biden has wisely recognized this, re-installing the many environmental regulations trump cancelled. We have to learn to live in a new world and stop looking to old models for answers. Jobs lost can and should be balanced out by creation of new jobs in a clean energy industry, but such doesn’t happen overnight, and the transition will be tough. Meantime we will have to help those citizens who are caught between.

Finally, I read the suggestion that the Keystone Pipeline is another way to enrich oil companies. You think? I’ll keep reading, but I am definitely leaning in support of Biden’s cancellation of the project. And rejoicing with the tribes who have fought against it for long, dry years.

Guess we’ve got something to talk about at dinner tonight.

My world is back in order, sort of

This is one of those nights when I really miss daylight savings time. By six tonight, the world seemed dark and gloomy—and a bit lonely—to me. Maybe more so because I briefly lost contact with the outer world. My computer and my TV, my lines to life beyond the cottage, both went out. I knrw what happened, just not how to fix it. And Sophie is the culprit.

For some months now, the crate that she appears to adore and that is too big for my tiny space has blocked her access to her favorite chair—my mom’s old wing chair. Yesterday, Sophie somehow figured out how to weasel her way up into it (Mom would not approve), but in so doing she disrupted the tangle of cords behind my desk. Last night, my computer screen told me to check the cable connection. I found an unattached cord but after much stewing and studying couldn’t find where it goes. Took a quick nap and figured it out—it had nothing to do with the wall power sources but connected my computer to my remote and much bigger monitor. Problem solved.

This morning, just a few minutes after I turned things on, both the computer and TV quit. I had to move the crate, leave my walker behind. and hold on to the desk to get back there, but I did it. Checked every connection, and they seemed fine. Jordan checked, said she thought the plug was just a bit loose from the wall, and fixed it. Computer came on; TV did not. Via distance, Christian said it needed rebooting. Jordan tried—nothing. She tried again—nothing. She came out this evening and tried—still nothing. Christian came out when he got home, turned it on, and there was a live picture. He had a good laugh, and we decided Jordan is an unrecognized genius.

So now I’m connected to the world, and what a day, a week it has been. I watched the impeachment hearings sporadically but was much impressed by George Kent and Bill Taylor and loved the standing ovation Marie Yovanovitch got today after her amazing testimony. It’s not been a good week for trump—in addition to the hearings, Federal courts have ordered the release of his tax records and the records of his International Trump Hotels, plus Roger Stone was convicted on all seven counts of perjury, and Giuliani’s buddy, Parnas, has apparently flipped. Giuliani himself is under study by Federal authorities I watched it all with glee.

On a different note, I’m struck by the innovations in technology, from various countries, that speak to replacing plastics with biodegradable materials—people are using lots of things in creative ways: clamshell containers made of coconut husks, vegetables wrapped in banana leaves rather than plastic, a biodegradable plastic made of fish scales, bamboo architectural elements that are apparently as strong as steel, disposable flatware made from avocado pits. All those point to ways to save our planet. Will they catch on? Probably not. The inventors have no money to develop their inventions, and, at least in America, the plastic industry is too entrenched and profitable. Just look at trump’s brief campaign for plastic straws. Discouraging.

But overall tonight, with my TV on “Washington Week,” I feel encouraged—by advances in world-saving technology, by triumphs of justice. It’s not just my world that is in order, but I really believe that the larger world is working its way back to sanity. A good friend tells me I’m dreaming, but sometimes dreams come true. Keep the faith, everyone.

The downside of a rainy day, some encouraging news, and advice from Jesus

Rainy, chilly, damp and dark in North Texas today, and frankly I was bored. I find that a whiney admission on my part, some sort of lack of character, but nothing engaged me, and time dragged. I am doing photo research but was stymied—one curator is out of the office for an indeterminate time, as in months, and not a single other soul can help me; another was just out today, so I suppose I can call her Monday; and a third office is only open Monday through Thursday. I suppose photo research is not considered urgent, but when it’s what’s next on your plate, such lack of response is frustrating. I have emailed a couple of archives twice with no response.

And I finished the cozy mystery, Nobody’s Sweetheart Now, that I was much enjoying. I always hate to finish a book when I’ve gotten absorbed in the story and its world. I didn’t expect to like this one so well—a British cozy set on an estate in the 1920s, very Agatha Christie-like with the houseguests at a Saturday-to-Monday the suspects in the murder. But the hostess, recently widowed Adelaide Compton, is charming, sly and witty behind the naïve and overly kind façade the world sees. And when her late husband, a terrible philanderer, reappears in ghostly form, she thinks she is losing her mind. A standard cast of characters, including the dullard nobleman who wants to marry her, but then. .. there’s the handsome inspector of British and Indian descent, so good looking, so…. well, read and find out. It’s all good fun.

One of my new year’s resolutions was to share more positive posts on Facebook, and I’ve been pleased to share several on environmental subjects. From schools in the jungles of Brazil to roads in India made from discarded plastic and from high sales of electric cars in Norway to desert lands reclaimed by using ancient farming methods, it seems to me the world is light years ahead of America, the so-called strongest nation in the world, on saving our physical world. While our government allows pollution of rivers and the use of poisonous pesticide with nary a thought to the consequences, much of the world seems to understand climate change and the desperate need to change our ways. Some days it’s enough to start me fantasizing about moving, though I’m too old for that.

And then there’s this word about Biblical commandments. You have my permission to throw it in the face of the next rigid, righteous Christian you meet. In his daily meditation yesterday, Richard Rohr, a monk well known for his theological writing, pointed out that there are 613 clear commandments in the Bible (do you think he counted them?), but Jesus reduced them to two: Love they God, and love they neighbor as thyself. See? You don’t have to worry about abortion and LGBTQ and other people’s marriages and marijuana and any of those things that send some off into a tizzy. Why did Mike Pence, that walking uptight bundle of repressed emotions, rush into my mind when I read that? I read today he predicts legalized abortion will disappear in this country soon. Talk about rigid ways. But back to Jesus’ two commands, just think if we all, Christian or not, followed those two commandments, what a great world it would be.

Here’s a link to Rohr’s complete meditation for the day. I read his work daily and find it inspiring, pushing me in a direction I need and want to go.

Which reminds me of a joyful note: Tarrant County Republicans voted NOT to unseat the duly elected co-chair because of his Muslim religion. Can you imagine? It should never have been an issue at all, but at least good sense won out. He can worship his God, I can worship mine, and we both can love our neighbors. Great hope for the world.

Tomorrow I plan to avoid boredom. I’ll do a grocery run, make a batch of spaghetti sauce, and think some more about the vague idea for a mystery that is batting around in my mind.

Why I Speak Out

June 6, 2017

Today is D-Day, the anniversary of the Allied invasion to free Europe from Nazi control. To my dismay, there seems to be little attention paid in social media to the commemoration of a day on which thousands of troops went ashore in France and too many lost their lives on the beaches of Normandy. The invasion was successful, but at terrible cost to the Allies.

It seems appropriate then, today, to tell you why I speak out on current political matters. My local son-in-law claims I’m outspoken, and I guess I have to own it. I am, because I feel passionately about what I speak out on: resistance, as it is current today. I am weary of people who say they’ve shut off the news and Facebook because of the dissension, or prudishly claim they never discuss politics because it’s fruitless. I agree it’s an uphill battle to change the mind of someone who claims I can survive Trump because they survived Obama. My instinct is to shout. “What was to survive? He did so much good. Not a saint, but a great man.”

And how can people still follow Trump blindly, when mounting evidence suggests he is seriously mentally disturbed, in addition to being a filthy womanizer, a racist, a narcissistic individual incapable of governing, a poor judge of character who surrounds himself with sycophants? The man’s approval ratings in this country are in the weeds, and don’t even begin to ask foreign countries how they feel about him. Today I read that Republicans are growing uneasy, and my response is to ask if they’ve had their heads in the sand. They have been complicit in promoting his dangerous agenda.

Do I believe Trump is trying to turn America over to Russia, with himself installed as the puppet dictator? Jury’s out on that one, might come in Thursday with Comey’s testimony. Do I believe Trump is in bed with Putin? You bet! Perhaps it’s a case of a schoolboy crush, but I think he’s bedazzled. Do I think Trump would sell America for another million dollars? Yes.

I truly believe that our country is headed toward a dictatorship that will destroy the poor, the infirm, the elderly, and the very young—witness GOP repeated efforts, at great expense, to repeal the ACA and replace it with a thinly disguised heartless and cruel policy that will kill millions of our fellow citizens—maybe me. After all, I fit easily into the senior citizen category. I also believe the current policies are destroying the environment and cancelling hard-won gains of recent years. The Trump administration is cutting environmental funding, disbanding the EPA, polluting our air and rivers, tearing up our land, even selling historic and protected sacred lands to commercial enterprise. Need I go on?

A friend, someone I genuinely like, urges us to give Trump a chance because he’s genuinely trying to help America. It makes me want to scream, but in reality, it causes me, out of conscience and concern for my grandchildren and yours, to speak out against what is happening. Less I rant forever, please memorize the following poem.

First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Socialist.

Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Trade Unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

Martin Niemöller