Jacob and my brother
Looking for jackrabbits
at the ranch
It’s
not been a week for blogging. I have started several times, even wrote a
longish blog about what I feel is ludicrous objections to any sort of gun
control. But then I thought who am I to preach on a subject so well covered in
the media? Or is it?
It
seems to me this country bounces from one crisis to another. Right now, there
are three huge balls in the air, and we cannot afford to drop any of them.
Public furor was high over the carnage at Uvalde—until Thursday night, when the
first public hearing of the January 6 committee captured everyone’s attention.
Well, not everyone, but some twenty million of us plus who knows how many who watched
it after the fact or livestreamed it, as I did. And, of course, the third big
ball in the air is women’s reproductive rights, which sort ol leads to a fourth
ball—how in heaven’s name did we end up with such a mess in the Supreme Court
as the Constitution seems to be being overridden in favor of personal beliefs.
I
guess at my age it’s good to feel passionate about anything, but I feel
passionate—and helpless—about those three problems. I cannot weigh one more
heavily than the other, and I have done what I criticize in others: I’ve become
an extremist, thinking the claims of the far right are ludicrous (that seems to
be a favorite word of mine recently).
At any
rate, with our country beset by such complex problems, it seemed a bit lighthearted
to write anything like, “Guess what I cooked for supper tonight?” or “Know how
many words I wrote today?” The one constant I hold to is that I am an optimist.
My mom used to say to me, “All things work to some good.” I wish she were here
now to say that, because sometimes it’s hard to see. Yet, maybe it’s my faith
that tells me fascism and authoritarianism won’t win, that we will have
effective gun control laws, that trump and company will be not only exposed but
appropriately punished, that women will always have access to good reproductive
health care.
When I
expressed outrage on a Facebook post (yes, I’m out there and vocal—I can’t walk
the block, host campaign parties, etc., but I can sure speak out), someone who
basically agreed with me wrote that she avoided outrage because she thought it
put bad stuff into her system. It probably does, but in this case, I think it’s
necessary. If we aren’t outraged enough to fight for our way of life, we’ll
lose it. And the absurdity of some on the right causes my outrage—charging a
woman with murder because she miscarried (what the medical profession calls a
spontaneous abortion and what, to my mind, indicates that God and our
biological systems know best), the congressman who said banally that he was
sorry Uvalde happened but it didn’t change his mind (how could it not?), the
cultists who deny the facts presented by the January 6 committee and call it
partisan even though the co-chair is a Republican (isn’t she tough?)—it all
outrages me, makes me fighting mad, and maybe that’s been what’s stifled me. I
have no place to go with my anger, but I don’t want to foist it on others.
There
have been pleasant moments this week. One morning I watched Mama Cardinal
hopping around on the deck. To my disappointment, Papa didn’t join her this
time. I guess I was looking for the comfort of thinking two from the other side
are sending me messages. Another day the most magnificent blue jay hopped among
the pentas, which are just now blooming. I watched him in fascination for a
long time. Yeah, it was not a week when I got a lot of writing done, but I did
start proofreading Finding Florence.
Posting
two pictures with this because they are pictures that make me feel good. Maybe
they will you too. They reflect, to me, the fact that our peaceful world of
home, families, and friends goes on despite those who would destroy our way of
life.
The most spectacular orchid
in its second bloom
