In the dark of the night

 

I had forgotten how black dark can be until we lost power about eleven o’clock last night. All evening I heard reports of rain nearby, some of it heavy, but our immediate area seemed dry and clear. Until about ten o’clock when I heard that first clap of thunder and, suddenly, Sophie was under my desk at my feet.

The wind rose, thunder rolled occasionally, and then we got one of those amazing light shows—spectacular to watch. But then one big strike, a loud noise, and the world went black. I was already securely locked in for the night, sitting at my desk with my “go to sleep” glass of wine, my hand on my phone. When I looked straight ahead, I could see a little out the windows, but behind me, deep in the cottage, it was all black, impenetrable.

Pretty soon Christian came out to check on me, so without a light I made it to the patio door and let him in. He put away the meat that was defrosting, fetched my flashlight from the bedroom, and settled on the floor to comfort Sophie who was not as all right as I was. I lit my electric candles, and we had a nice visit, talking mostly about politics. After a while Jordan called to say their beloved Cricket was freaking out and sleeping in her arms. She wanted Christian back in the house.

Sophie and I went to bed, though I slept fitfully. If I didn’t’ mind the dark so much, I minded the heat a lot. It hadn’t occurred to me until Christian and I were talking that the a/c would be off too. I shed blankets and layers, but I was still uncomfortable.

And then suddenly, about three o’clock, power returned and the cottage was ablaze with lights. I turned off the computer and lights, filled Sophie’s water dish, and went gratefully back to bed. At five-thirty, Sophie wanted to go out. At six-thirty, she thought it was time for breakfast. I told her firmly it was too early. At seven-thirty, she insisted, so I gave her first breakfast, let her out, and once more went back to bed with that feeling that I hadn’t had my full sleep. Praise be, we slept until nine o’clock.

But the dark blackness of the night stayed on my mind because I’d been thinking how little most Texans understand about what is going on in our world. They are in the dark.  Start with the Paxton impeachment proceedings: his lawyers keep protesting that he is the people’s choice, they elected him knowing all the accusations against him. Truth is, he won by a slim majority, not the major turnout you would expect for an established Republican officeholder in Texas. And polls have shown most Texans had no idea that he has been under indictment for fraud for seven years, that his own office staff reported him to the FBI for bribery and other irregularities, that he had a notorious extramarital affair. The information has always been public—but apparently Texans didn’t read, didn’t care. Maybe now they do.

In Fort Worth, some millions of federal funding for pandemic recovery has gone unused, so the county commissioners have decided to transfer the funds from encouragement of low income housing and other services to the underserved to boost law enforcement, including increased use of a private prison over a hundred miles away. Among many things wrong with that plan, like the wrongness of private prisons to begin with, is that many families, counselors, and lawyers will find it difficult to travel that far to visit and serve inmates. As for low-income housing, one commissioner brushed it off with slight regret and, “It is what it is.” Doesn’t sound pro-active to me, especially since homelessness is on the rise. But most Texans don’t know this.

And then there’s Clearfork—the upscale shopping/residential/office area on the city’s southwest side. And I do mean upscale. Neiman Marcus, Burberry, Gucci, Johnny Was, Louis Vitton, Tiffany—you get the idea. Restaurants match the shops, and who knows how much those upstairs housing units cost. The City of Fort Worth is getting ready to sink millions into an expansion of Clearfork, including an upscale automobile dealer. Without a nod to the need for low-income housing. But most Fort Worthians, let alone most Texans, don’t realize this.

I have a feeling I’m preaching to the choir here, but I don’t know how much or what else I can do to get Texans to wake up and realize the importance of knowing what’s going on, in depth, in our city, our state, our country. We hear repeatedly that the atmosphere in this country resembles the thirties in Nazi Germany, and I think it terms of public apathy, ignorance, call it what you will, it’s an apt comparison.

Folks, the power’s not going to come on magically. We have already seen drastic controls on voting, on women’s rights over their own bodies, on freedom to love who we want, on what books our children read, what version of history they are taught.

Oops sorry. I got preachy. But I am so appalled by the darkness. The literal darkness didn’t scare me; the metaphorical darkness scares the heebie-jeebies out of me. Please help me spread the word that we must all pay close attention—and not stay silent.

Enjoy this cooler weather. Only in Texas is it cooler in the upper eighties. I love living in free Texas. I hope you do too.