Defiant? Maybe. I get more tomatoes than strawberries.
There’s snow outside, but I know it will melt. Give it a few months.
I’ve also heard that to start planting in winter shows faith that spring will come. What does it mean if we bought grow lights, seeds, and a snow shovel from Home Depot today?
It was a warm summer night, back in August of 1974. My friends and I were performing in a solo recital at music camp. A handful of us had performed in past years, so it felt more like a friendly get-together than a scholarship competition. During the other students’ performances, we sat on a small porch behind the back entrance to the gymnasium stage. And we talked, quietly, on this warm summer night.
“Really, who cares what happens tonight in this little recital of ours?” a pianist friend stated softly. “The president is resigning tonight. He might be quitting the White House right now.” We nodded. We were just young teenagers, all of us, but we knew this was big. We had seen bits and pieces of the Watergate scandal as it unfolded, and whatever our level of understanding of the whole mess, we knew that our tiny little recital was meaningless in comparison to the real world beyond.
Decades later, I can look back at that night in a different way. Maybe we should have been impressed at how quiet it was; no coup, no riots, just a warm August night and a gym full of young musicians. In Washington, D.C. the power was moving smoothly from Richard Nixon to Gerald Ford, and the country would go on.
Decades later I also know that the transfer of power wasn’t happening that night as we took our turns playing for the audience and the judges. Gerald Ford was sworn in the next day around noon after Nixon formally resigned. The previous evening, while my friends and I sat backstage, the President had made the speech announcing his impending resignation. “By taking this action,” he told the country, “I hope that I will have hastened the start of the process of healing which is so desperately needed in America.”
I can’t help but see parallels to Watergate in the rocky start to the current administration. Wiretapping then, hacker invasions of email now. Firing the special prosecutor; firing the attorney general. Nixon wasn’t fond of journalists, either, including the two investigative reporters from the Washington Post. Many of Nixon’s lies were those of omission, not the outright falsehoods that masquerade as alternative facts today, but the atmosphere is the same: truth optional.
Decades ago, we young teenagers didn’t feel worried. We knew it was a night for the history books, but we also knew that our concerts and our lives would go on as usual. When school started, our history teachers might ask “Where were you when…?” and we would answer that it was pretty much an ordinary night at music camp. No fireworks, no danger, just a solo recital in a college gym.
Somehow, I can’t muster up that same sense of calm today.
We’ve all heard them. We disregard them, sometimes even laugh a little at the sheer ridiculousness that someone might want us to believe. Here are a few alternative facts that circulate – wherever.
One size fits all.
Easy open package.
Lifetime warranty.
Easy return policy.
Sanctuary cities are hotbeds of crime.
The dog ate my homework.
Wikipedia rocks.
Painless childbirth.
3 million undocumented immigrants voted in 2016.
Contents not included.
He must have misspoken.
Okay, readers, I’ve made my point. Can you think of others? Add comments for me, please.
Sanctuary cities. Executive orders. Airport detentions. A border wall. The news is full of negatives, stereotypes, anger, and fear. What’s missing? Empathy. Here’s a book list to encourage empathy for those who come to America from other cultures, whether voluntarily or as refugees. With the exception of the first title, all are suitable for young people.
Readers, what are some other books you recommend – for young adults or those who are grown-ups?
I saw it on social media. “Friday, we mourned. Saturday, we marched. Where will you be next?”
I remembered when we, the educators and the unions, packed the Wisconsin Capitol. We marched, we sang, we protested, and to no avail. Those in power still passed the ugly bill we called Act 10, sending our bargaining rights back by 40 to 50 years. Our numbers, our marches, our voices were ignored.
On Friday, January 20, many turned off the televisions and turned our backs on the scary sight of Donald Trump taking office as President of the United States. On Saturday, even more took to the streets. Rallies in Chicago, Washington D.C., and elsewhere attracted so many people that the corresponding marches could not take place. Attendees were so numerous that they already filled the march routes.
And for what did we march? For our health care, our rights as human beings, our respect – and self respect, too. We marched to remind people that women are scared, and despite our fears and worries, we won’t take any more steps backwards. We marched to say “Hey, we heard you. We heard you mock a disabled reporter. We heard you claim you had the right to grab women in their “pussy” because you were a celebrity. We heard you call immigrants from Mexico rapists and drug dealers. We heard you announce you would prevent people who are Muslim from entering this country, and we heard you suggest a registry for those who follow Islam.”
We heard you, Mr. Trump, and we won’t forget.
The question remains: what’s next? For some, it’ll be donations to Planned Parenthood, Emily’s List, or local and state progressive activist groups. For some, it’ll mean participating in more events like Saturday’s march. For others, what’s next will be emails and phone calls to elected officials, whether we voted for them or not.
Trust me on this, folks. I predict further activity. We are women, and we’ll roar, in numbers too big to ignore (Thanks, Helen!). We won’t lose our right to speak freely or peaceably assemble. We won’t lose the rights to make decisions about our own health and our own bodies.
And that, my readers, is where we’re going next.
I couldn’t watch the inauguration. Late in the day, while we were on the road to take Amigo to La Petite’s for the weekend, I scanned my Facebook page. I kept getting choked up – but not sadness this time. My Facebook newsfeed was filled with friends and acquaintances determined to make themselves heard.
Several showed off their pink knit pussy hats for the rallies and marches. Those pink hats on display say very clearly “We are women, hear us roar!” and “Hands off my body, you jerk.” Their presence at rallies and in marches shouted out a reminder of an inspiring woman: women’s rights are human rights.
Now here it is, Saturday, and I’m not marching. I worked on grades for progress reports, and then I started the weekly task I call laundry. Meanwhile, my friends marched. Several in Madison, at least two in Washington, D.C., a significant handful in Chicago, a few in California and Washington state – and more.
And before I forget (yeah, right), I have one more quote to share. It’s a wonderful moment when the student surpasses the teacher. This statement came from a former student, a recent college graduate. She has the right attitude.
Today, and for the next 4 years, I will show love. I will fight for equality, for human rights, for women, for science, for education. But most of all, I will use the privileges I have been given to show love to those who will need it most, so that their world may look just a little bit brighter.
Well said.
We had an inkling that a day off might be in the works. Toward the end of the school day, we saw an email from downtown – the Powers That Be had cancelled all after school and evening events, and the morning wellness appointments had been rescheduled. I slid a little in the parking lot; the freezing rain had begun.
By the time I saw the announcement that our local schools would close the next day, I had already prepped for the possibility of power outages. Sometimes, the two go together. Ice, power outages, kind of like chocolate chips and cookies, Romeo and Juliet, or birds of a feather. It’s not a panic situation, but we’d rather not be forced to travel the slick roads in search of eggs or bread if the trip can be avoided.
Our pantry is pretty well stocked as a general rule. A quick stop for bunny food on the way home from work, and we can feed everyone under our roof.
Blankets: if the heat goes off, we’ll need to double up on blankets. We have plenty, and at any given time most are reasonably clean. Most.
Bean bag chairs. Just kidding – sort of. Amigo has several. Bean bag chairs plus blankets equal a cozy corner for relaxing and keeping warm.
Firewood: Bring in a good stack of dry or relatively dry wood. If the heat is off, we’ll huddle up in the den near the fireplace with bean bag chairs and blankets.
Charge everything that needs a charge. That’s probably the biggest challenge on the list. If I can’t plug anything in during or after a storm, I need to be ready to keep the major tools of life charged. To give you an idea, here’s a list.
- Smart phones – three
- Kindle
- Laptop
- FitBit (it keeps my vibrating alarm on time!)
- Is that all? No, but those are the high priority items.
I don’t have a battery operated coffee maker. If we lived in a place where power outages were more common, I’d probably get one. A generator for the freezers would be useful, too. Our two chest freezers are full of vegetables from last summer and meat purchased on sale and a full stock of soup broths (haha). In a short outage, we just leave the freezers closed to maintain their temperatures.
So, folks, how did I spend my bonus day? Power stayed on. Heat stayed on. I relaxed on the couch, watched some HGTV and DIY (no news; after I had the closing confirmed, I didn’t want to see any more news), put a loaf of bread in the bread machine, cleaned a little, sipped my coffee, ran the dishwasher, and a whole batch of small chores. A day like this is a gift, when we’re prepared for it.
Serve with courage and inspiration.
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photo credit: La Petite, at a rally last June
We were bowling Friday night. Picture this: a group of teachers and spouses, most dressed in their Friday Green and Gold, gathered at the local bowling alley (and Pokemon gym) for a post-holiday party. I managed to catch several Pokemon critters while we were gathering. Chuck captured a local craft beer for himself and a glass of white zinfandel for me. And then we bowled.
None of us – okay, few of us – were any good at it, so spares and strikes were exciting. It was reminiscent of the Pepsi commercials featuring Odell Beckham and some ordinary everyday folks celebrating their own achievements. Remember “This must be how Shelly felt when she won that purple bear”? I came back from a that’ll show ’em spare announcing to my team “This must be how Aaron Rodgers feels when he throws a Hail Mary!”
And it built from there.
Strike! “This must be how DaVante Adams felt when he scored that touchdown!”
Spare! and a strike to follow! “This must be how Clay Matthews felt when he caused that fumble and recovered it himself!”
Gutter ball. “This must be how Brett Favre felt when he retired – the first time.”
A missed split for a missed spare: “This must be how Odell Beckham felt when he punched a hole in the locker room wall.”
You can imagine the inspirations for these.
This must be how Richard Rodgers felt when he caught that Hail Mary against the Lions.
This must be how Mike McCarthy feels every time Aaron Rodgers throws a Hail Mary.
This must be how Jordy Nelson felt when he got speared in the ribs by that dirty hit.
This must be how Mason Crosby felt when he kicked off and then had to tackle the receiver.
This must be how Tom Brady felt when he got caught deflating his footballs.
Yeah, it was getting lamer than lame as the beers and the gin and tonics got tallied up and we returned our ugly shoes to the counter. In our defense, it was Friday the 13th, a full moon, and we’re teachers, for heaven’s sake!
So readers, let’s leave it at that. Play the game with me. What would you say to fill in the blanks? “That must be how (blank) felt when (blankety blank) happened.” Now put your Diet Pepsi down, and think on it. If it takes a little while, just remember that the 23rd time is the charm. Hey, it worked for Shelly.
- Amigo and I went to Fleet Farm for bunny litter (wood fuel pellets). They were on sale. That’s good.
- Fleet Farm was out of bean bag chairs. That’s not so good.
- We’ll wait patiently and read the Sunday ad inserts. Fleet Farm always has bean bag chairs.
- I have a new cast iron skillet! That’s good!
- I seasoned it last night! That’s good, too!
- I scrambled eggs in the newly seasoned skillet! That’s amazingly awesome!
Okay, now I’m clutching at straws. Look for this desperation in seeking out the positive to increase through January 20. After that, who knows?