Random thoughts from my scattered mind

 

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I don’t know about you, but I couldn’t resist watching the trump doings in New York around lunchtime. To my eyes, trump had lost much of his bravado—the look on his face was almost shock. What was fascinating, and a bit appalling, was how the media focused on the arraignment for two hours when we saw maybe two seconds of trump live and one still photo. They are doing it again—giving trump all the free coverage he could wish, and it’s working—his fund-raising and support among Republicans is up. Even Mitt Romney is calling the arraignment politically inspired—that’s another subject for another night. From trump’s point of view, however, I’d say the day ended with a whimper and not a bang (with a hat tip to T.S.Eliot). The protests and crowds on his behalf were feeble.

But there was other political news that interested me. A judge in Llano County—yes, folks, right here in bright red Texas—has ordered twelve books returned to school libraries within twenty-four hours and decreed that no books may be removed during the pending court case. The books had been removed by lawmakers who judged their content inappropriate without public discussion, and a group of county residents sued, claiming their rights had been violated. Books included some on transgender teens and a history of the Ku Klux Klan. The judge cited the First Amendment in his decision. Book advocates say this is a significant victory that may resonate across the country, Fingers crossed. Any victory for books is cause for rejoicing.

There’s another story about schools coming out of Texas. A group of parents at Fort Worth’s Tanglewood Elementary (a neighborhood adjacent to mine) have hired off-duty police officers as guards during the school day. Our local representative to the state legislature has embraced the idea, and a representative group of parents has traveled to Austin to present their pilot program, called Texans Against School Violence.

My worries about this kind of action are several. I can’t believe the solution is more guns, and indeed at both Parkland and Uvalde, armed security was helpless. Additionally, this school is in an upscale neighborhood where parents can afford to contribute toward the expense. Go across town to what is still an essentially segregated neighborhood, and that won’t be true. At first glance, Texans Against Gun Violence seems an elitist reaction, but I probably need to learn more about it. Wonder how many of them are gun owners.

I read an article recently that calculated the number of elementary schools in the country and then figured the cost of an armed guard at each of those schools. The figure was so high as to be laughable. To my mind, gun control, not more guns, is the answer. It’s never occurred to me though perhaps it should to be worried because I live across the street from what we in my neighborhood think is the city’s best, most historic, most diversified public elementary school.

Enough of schools and books. I found a question asked on a small writer’s group listserv this week puzzling and thought provoking. The question was, “Do you have rituals that give meaning and substance to your life?” My first instinct about rituals had to do with either church or passages of life—communion (for me as a Protestant), the recitation of the Lord’s Prayer, or a wedding, graduation ceremony, etc. . Big things,

But then I realized rituals can be pretty simple. What, I wondered, is the difference between routine and ritual? I like the routines of my life. When do those routines become ritual? After some back and forth with the friend who asked the question, we finally decided that routines become ritual when they bring joy and meaning to life. And they don’t have to be elaborate.

So what are the rituals in my life? Starting the day with a cup of hot tea at my desk, reading emails and the news of the day, anticipating getting to my writing work of the day whatever it is. And, similarly, ending the day at my desk, reading a mystery, with a glass of wine.  When I think about it, my life has been full of rituals. One I remember distinctly:

When our kids were in high school, my brother and I, both divorced, got our families together for Sunday dinners. Yes, I was the one who did the cooking. Sometimes for as many as fifteen people as neighbors, friends, and the kids school friends joined us. John would preside at the head of the table, as the patriarch, and he would go around the table, asking each of us what was good about our week. Those are times I treasure in my memory.  So perhaps rituals are the things that help us build memories.

How about you? Are there rituals in our life to which you cling?

And a parting note: The good guys are winning tonight. The progressive candidate has won the election for mayor of Chicago, and the liberal has won the swing seat on the Wisconsin Supreme Court, in a race that was called the most significant of this season—and a record-setter for expenditures.  I’ll go to sleep happy, maybe dreaming of rituals.

 

 

My musings after a musical church service

 

Church has been iffy for me of late, even though I consider myself a regular churchgoer. For several reasons, some good, some not so much so, we have not gotten into the habit of physically going to church since quarantine, though I livestream the service almost every Sunday. Even that became iffy for a bit because the church had sound problems and listening intently became a strain. Now those problems are solved, and this morning I “attended.” A wonderful Sunday to be in church either physically or virtually.

The rituals of the service were interjected between movements of Vivaldi’s Gloria, which was, as our minister said jokingly, the best sermon he preached all year. It filled the entire worship hour. As a violin drop-out (when I was seven my parents recognized I had neither the ear nor the talent for it), I still am transported by stringed music, and what Vivaldi does with strings is beyond glorious. The choir out-sang themselves, and the entire experience was transforming. And thought-provoking.

The ministerial prayer focused on the terrible storms that have devastated many states and the solace that God can bring, in churchgoer’s eyes, to the victims. Once, a friend asked me how I could believe in a God who lets such devastation happen (after a terrible tsunami), so I asked our then-minister how to respond, and he said bluntly, “Shit happens.” But he went on to say that it is when shit happens that God is there for us.

This morning on Facebook, someone posted, “We can do nothing about these storms,” and I wanted to shout “Oh, but we can. We can take climate control seriously. We can pass the Build Back Better legislation. We can become caretakers of the earth instead of exploiters.” Science has demonstrated that climate change has intensified the severity and frequency of devastating storms. So it’s not simply a matter of faith. There are practical steps we can and must take. Remember when in Sunday school they talked about being God’s helpers? Not just for little kids.

And from there, of course, my happy little liberal mind went straight to politics, and I mixed politics and religion. If God (insert the deity of your choice) is our savior, he/she will not let the bad guys win. I know the world today is full of skeptics, yet there is no reason I should feel naïve or apologetic about saying, “I believe,” so here it is: I believe God will not let insurrectionists and fascists and perverted religion take over our world again as they tried to do in the Holocaust. That’s not to say we can sit back and say, “God will take care of it.” We have a big, huge role to play (think God’s helpers) but in the end, as we are taught, love will triumph. Not cruelty, nor punishment, nor greed for wealth and power.

Meanwhile, in Texas, it is clear that a whole lot of Texans despise our governor, lt. governor, and attorney general. I’ve seen estimates that if all who are inclined to vote blue turned out, we could defeat them despite voter suppression and gerrymandering. But pundits, who supposedly know whereof they speak, say that Republicans will retain control in Texas and retake the country in 2022. They cite the pattern for mid-term elections, blah, blah, blah. I am tired of politics as it always is. I want to see something unheard of and wonderful happen as people turn out in droves to speak for equality, diversity, kindness, and, yes, love. We simply must not dismiss what’s happening with a shrug and, “That’s politics.”

I don’t often write about religion—it’s a purely personal thing for me. But this morning’s service moved me in several ways. I’ll step down from my private pulpit now.

On a more ordinary note: we (Jordan and Christian and I) were expecting guests tonight for a birthday happy hour, and we planned a wonderful charcuterie. Then one of our guests reported in ill. A disappointment, but we had our own happy hour—nice family time in front of their almost-decorated tree, lots of catching up. Good food, but I’m going to scramble a couple of eggs in a bit. A comfortable Sunday night.

Really, it only seems like winter

 

Our new Chinese Pistache tree
They tell us the stakes must remain for a year and a half

You’d think a kid from Chicago would find temperatures in the fifties balmy. And a little rain? Pfft—nothing to bother about. But it’s not true. I’ve been a Texan for over fifty-five years, and my blood has thinned. Tonight, I’m huddled in the cottage, whining about the cold wet chill. Even Sophie didn’t want to stay outside as long as usual. And for happy hour, when Mary came to visit, we had our first fire of the evening. Okay. It was in my tabletop artificial fireplace, but it added atmosphere.

My fireplace

And just before the rain hit this morning, we finally got our new tree, a Chinese Pistache, planted. I expected a professional crew; we got one man who worked alone but was most knowledgeable about trees and trimmed out all the dead on one in our back yard in addition to planting the new one. Yesterday’s confusion was due to one digit off on a phone number. When I called, polite but firm, I was told they’d tried to call me all weekend and couldn’t leave a message because my mailbox was full. I held firm, told them I had no record of attempted calls and my mailbox is never full. Turned out to be the mistaken phone number.

At happy hour Mary and Jordan both vented about their bad days—Mary with plumbing problems and Jordan who spent well over an hour looking for her lost keys. Tonight, she stood by my desk, talking about those keys, when she suddenly said, “I think they’re under your toaster oven.” And they were. When we came home this morning, she unlocked the door and threw the keys on the counter where they slid under the oven.

In contrast, I had a good day despite having to go for blood work, a trip I had come to dread after I was in the hospital and had to go every other week. Now, it’s been three months and didn’t seem so arduous. I am also fortunate and suffering no after-effects from my booster shot yesterday. Even the injection site is barely tender, and only twinges me occasionally.

Leftovers are so good!

Tonight, Jordan and I had girls’ dinner in the cottage. Christian was feeling punk from the booster, and Jacob was asleep, so we got the leftovers of last night’s Norwegian hamburgers and a salad. Such a good meal.

Rainy days are generally unremarkable. Life seems to go on at a quieter pace, with nothing interesting to report. I am still seeing praise for Gary Patterson who apparently showed up for work Monday morning because he had promised to help with the transition and he had the plans he had made for Saturday’s game against Baylor (I am not sure at this point how the Baylor fan in our house feels about that game). But, to me, that attitude speaks volumes: Patterson is a class act. I’ve also read reports about how he put his players’ education first—standing outside a classroom door at eight o’clock to make sure one or the other was in class, and calling to wake them if they overslept. I think what he taught those kids, beyond football, was integrity.

Voting reports trickling in are not making me jump for joy There are some Democratic victories—mayors of good-sized cities—but the turnout in Virginia is low, and that’s always a bad sign for Democrats. With the revelations that have come out in recent days about the organized effort, led by trump, to overthrow our government, I cannot fathom why anyone votes for any of his appointed candidates. But then, there is apparently a crowd in Dealey Plaza in Dallas waiting for the return of John F Kennedy, Jr.—yep, he who died in 1998—because they believe he is not dead, will return, will serve as vice-president under trump after the 2024 election, and then will be president. No one has apparently reminded them that Kennedys are Democrats. The number of people who believe such outlandish things is frightening, as is the number who still believe Biden stole the election. MY belief? Trump is certifiably mentally unbalanced and should be in an institution, though I’d love to see him serve the prison time he deserves for treason. Back in the day, I think we shot or hung traitors. He’s walking a thin line.

Supposed to stop raining mid-day tomorrow, so maybe the world will brighten up. Sweet dreams, y’all.

 

Letter to a young man who won’t read it

Last night a friend told me her son, eligible to vote for the first time, wasn’t enthusiastic about Joe Biden, so he thought he’d just sit this one out. I was appalled. There is so much I want to say to him and can’t, so I’m saying it here: Voting is a privilege and an obligation if you live in America and enjoy the dwindling benefits of that residency. Even more of an obligation if you’d like to return America to the standards and values we were raised with and have held on to all our lives.

We vote not just for the president, but for an entire new government—from cabinet ministers on down a long list of presidential appointees, including right now attorney general.. And we vote, in 2020, for a totally difference concept of government, one that starts with the “little people.” If you don’t vote, you also miss the opportunity to voice your choice on a long-list of down-ballot state and local officials.

Somewhere I saw a meme that pointed out that voting is not like marriage. You don’t have to fall in love with a candidate—you simply have to make a reasonable choice about who would bring about a better way of life for all Americans. To make that conscientious choice requires some research, study of the platforms, familiarizing yourself with the issues and the positions of various candidates. It should not be a decision based on who appeals to you—that’s falling in love, not politics.

In the upcoming election, the economic issue raises its head. People believe that the economy will do better under trump, though history consistently demonstrates that the economy does better under Democratic administrations than Republican. Right now, the economy is doing great for the one percent, but failing the middle class and the poor miserably—especially people of color.

People claim that we have to open up after quarantine, that the economy is what matters most. I would suggest that human life  matters more. A sick and dying people cannot rebuild a shattered economy like ours. Opening up too soon will eventually leave the economy in worse shape—more deaths, more illness, more fear that will keep people at home, more overuse of health facilties, more cost to the government from unemployment and health care. Germany stands out as a country where workers survived pandemic unemployment almost unscathed, a contrast to America where 40 million are unemployed. (Sorry, you’ll have to research that one, but you will find our government could have used bailout for average workers, hourly employees out of work, instead of bailing out the wealthy and corporations who were not desperate, just greedy.)

A huge part of the problem in our country is the percent of the population that is noncompliant, from ridiculous “virus parties” to the guy next door who won’t wear a mask. Setting the tone for that is the man who calls himself president and refuses to wear a mask, wants mass gatherings of people at rallies and political conventions without disregard to the health concerns. Florida, whose governor is an ally of trump, recently experienced the highest ever one-day spike of new virus cases, after opening up.

It’s almost a circular argument that brings you around to the beginning—vote Blue. No, getting rid of trump will not make everything roses and sunshine immediately. It will take time to rebuild our country, but it is a task we must begin. And it starts with voting out trump and his enablers, including much of the Senate.

A long lecture the young man in question won’t listen to, but I needed to say it. Thanks for listening.

Cold and blah

My day started off badly as you may have read in an earlier post. I got up at 5:15 by mistake. I washed my hair and did some other stuff and waited for the 7:00 news, which turned out to be the 6:00 news. What a bummer. I’m pleased to say I did read a project I was reading for someone else and made good use of the time, but I was still out of sorts—and by lunchtime I was sleepy. At least now, thanks to Christian, the clocks in my cottage are all fixed. Probably tomorrow I’ll wake up, look at the clock, and think it’s an hour ahead—then I’ll go back to bed and be an hour late with everything all day!

Today was an appointment with the retina specialist. Every new office insists on doing the full eye exam like you haven’t seen two other doctors in the last two weeks. If anyone comes near me wanting to dilate my eyes, I will probably throw a screaming fit and collapse in a puddle on the floor. Nothing new today, although I liked the doctor and felt confident about him. Long story short is the same old story—I will have surgery, but I don’t know when.

Ever since I’ve been old enough to go to the eye doctor, I’ve dreaded it. Mostly, the doctors I’ve seen have been knowledgeable and kind; one is even an old friend. So I don’t know why I dread it—dilation? Could be. Anyway, an appointment drains me and I’m off kilter for the rest of the day. Today, the combination of too-early-to-rise and the eye appointment really got me, and I slept for two hours in the afternoon. Brightened for happy hour company, a jolly gathering, but still feel sort of out of sorts. Fragile? Not how I like to think of myself.

I am cheered by early voting returns—it appears that the governorships of Virginia and New Jersey have both gone to Democrats. In Virginia, that seems to demonstrate that racist propaganda doesn’t cut it with the voters. What a comforting thought in these times that one minister referred to as our period of darkness.

It’s really not that cold tonight, though I have the heat on. Tomorrow the high will be in the forties. Now that’s winter in Texas. It’s 51 and falling out right now. I view this with mixed feelings—I love keeping the patio door open and bringing the outdoors into the cottage, but honestly, folks, it’s time to get rid of this head.

‘Night. Sweet dream, sleep tight. I’m going to crawl under the comforter with a good book.

Putting on a good face

I have spent much of today being determinedly cheerful. You see, my horoscope told me it was a good day to be cheerful and outgoing, and I might make important new contacts if I did that. Easier said than done on a rainy, dismal day when I didn't see anyone else until I got Jacob at three. And, of course, the Republican "rout" to overcome. Yes, I've read all the Facebook messages I got about why liberals lost--from President Obama to gerrymandering to the Democrats ongoing tendency not to support their own and, of course, voter apathy. What encourages me is that blame-seeking is done mostly in the sense of figuring out how things can be done differently in 2016. I am much encouraged by the many candidates who have said, "We're not through. We're not giving up the fight."
I have also been struck with the thought, expressed by several, that the conservatives wanted to control the government. Okay, now they've got it. Let's see what they do with it. I still have a sense of dread, and I did read and share a really scary forecast of what the future holds. But I'm determined to be optimistic.
I remember a friend who was distraught at the possible election of George W. Bush but finally decided that we had all dreaded Dwight Eisenhower's term of office and nothing bad happened. "How bad can it be?" he asked rhetorically. We all saw how that worked out--two unnecessary wars, tax cuts to the wealthy, and a monumental debt left to the country. So I'm a little afraid to say "How bad can it be?" But I remain hopeful that the country will survive and struggle onward to regain its once-great status in the world.
Betty and I went to Lili's tonight for supper--split crab cakes on wasabi mac and cheese. Really good. The cakes seemed to be all crab with no filler, crusty with sesame seeds and I don't know what else. And I guess it cheered us. When I asked how she felt about last night, she floored me by asking, "What was last night?" But then she said she knew it was coming all along. I guess I did too but I remained hopeful.
My good news is that a writing pal said, "The more you write, the more the ideas come," and it struck me that's why I have no ideas. So I wrote a thousand words on a new novel today. Yay for me! 

There's no joy in Mudville tonight

This is a strictly partisan post, so ignore if you want. But I am distraught, heartsick, and befuddled by today's elections. I truly thought the Democrats had a chance--most Democratic candidates had enthusiastic crowds and their own enthusiasm on their side, not to mention concrete proposals for the future. I heard that Allison Grimes drew crowds of hundreds, while Mitch McConnell had trouble getting a hundred to a rally. What went wrong?
I love two definitions of a conservative: someone who plants his feet firmly and proceeds to march backward, and someone who is firm in his convictions, no matter how wrong they are. Democrats on the other hand aren't called progressives for no reason--they're represent progress, forward movement, and--what scares many people--change. It seems so clear to me that there's no alternative to the way the country should have voted (I know, not all polls are in yet but the trend is clear) that I am befuddled.
Do we have an electorate that doesn't want progress? That longs for the "good old days" even though those days will never come again? An electorate that doesn't care about the environment, the economy, a raise in the minimum wage so that all families can make a living? Have they not read about the success of Costco, which pays employees handsomely, vs. Walmart, which pays so poorly that employees are on welfare? Do they not read the statistics about the growth of economy in states that increase the minimum wage opposed to those who don't?
Do they not care about women's rights? Education? Children's health care? The poor?
In a darker mood, I sometimes wonder how much of these election results have to do with the overwhelming and vitriolic condemnation of our president--and that too baffles me. Jobs are up, the stock market is up, the debt is down--looking at what President Obama inherited, he's worked wonders. So when I wonder why the hatred, I am led reluctantly down the path toward racism.
At dinner tonight I sat next to a retired journalist who said he's covered politics for fifty years and never seen the vitriolic hate that is spewed on President Obama--not just as a politician but as a person. And even worse, the hate that is spewed on his wife.
I am afraid for my country, afraid it is becoming a nation consumed by greed and hate and elitism. If the election indeed goes the way it looks, we are now in the hands of the Koch brothers. Two years ago I'd never heard of them.
Another thing is picking away at the back of my brain. I am the last one to believe conspiracy theories, but it's hard to understand that Democrats roused so much enthusiasm in the campaign and then came out so badly in the election. I can't help wonder about voting regulations, bribery, whatever. My daughter-in-law moved in the early summer and filed all the proper places to change her driver's license, voting status, etc. She was denied the right to vote today and told she would have to go back to her previous district--many miles away. A friend of hers said the same thing happened to two other voters she knew. The excuse given? DPS dropped the ball.
The next two years will be a hard test for President Obama, but I have confidence in him. To all the Democratic candidates who campaigned and lost--thanks for fighting the good fight.

Food, dreams, and elections--not necessarily a good mix

Food is always on my mind but I’ve had some interesting dinners lately. My dining adventure pal, Betty, and I ate at Campisi’s the other night and shared the combination platter—more than enough for both of us. We each had a meatball, spaghetti with marinara, lasagna and a ravioli. With wine, dinner cost us a big $11 each—such a deal. The next night I browned an herb-marinated chicken breast from Central Market and then put it covered in the oven with white wine. So moist and good, but it didn’t make really good chicken salad the next day. Saturday I went to an event where the food was “heavy hors d’oevres” and I expected to starve—food was wonderful, plentiful and very imaginative. Still have figured out the filling that was piped into mushroom caps.

Last night neighbors joined me for lamb chili—part of my continuing quest for chili pictures. It was good, as was the apricot/blueberry pie Mary brought. Both were better a day later when they’d mellowed and blended flavors.

I had a bad dream last night—I was working in an office, I think for the executive secretary I worked for in high school—and I was going to school. But I was afflicted with laziness, no desire to do anything but piddle away time on things that didn’t really need doing. I woke in a three a.m. sweat, realizing that’s what I’d been doing all weekend. And in that panicky middle-of-the-night state I envisioned myself not working and growing rapidly older by the day. Needless to say I got up this morning and hit it running. I have this firm conviction that as long as you exercise your mind—as in writing—you won’t slip into senility. And for the physical end of things, I did my yoga routine again.

I will be so glad when it’s Wednesday—so tired of election calls and begging and predictions and wildly varying polls. I voted some time ago by mail, which I think is the best thing since sliced bread. I know how I want the elections to come out, and I care—a lot!—so this is like a time of suspense. And I’m trying to ignore it. I keep remembering though the Truman/Dewey election upset from my childhood.

Back to work. Had a new idea for a novel and want to make notes on it tonight. Tomorrow, ho hum--another run through the chili pictures to see where I stand. I think though I’ve been using the chili book as an excuse to procrastinate. Can’t do much more until the pictures come in.