I haven't written here in a while. There are too many problems to solve. I say that in jest, with an attitude that is partly self effacing, but with a feeling of shame accompanied by ambivalence as garishly hued as a box of crayons. Facebook holds me in its clutches, and I'm feeling a need to be productive in a way that doesn't involve arguing to the point of livid stalemate and hopeless impasse. The sun is shining outside. It's the middle of April. I feel honestly like I haven't much to say. The robins took wing weeks ago, but the orders to stay home and avoid contact override the springtime chirping of any birds. Instead, I hear the trilling clamor of the news warnings and the the ringing cautionary notes of my own fearful brain.
Why do we grind against each other so? Why do we bother to face off on questions of politics? Does it even make any difference whether my opinion supersedes yours, in the larger scheme of things? Should be be dialoguing at all?
The process of the vote in this country is what it is. I always like to say, "Everyone is entitled to their own vote." My mother likes to respond with, "Yes, but not everyone is entitled to their own facts."
Fact is hard to come by, especially when we're all surfing the red and blue surfboards of opinion as we ride the wave of a sudden, unexpected and totally uncontrollable pandemic. Things are scary out there, and they're getting scarier.
How do we proceed from here? States and persons and authorities and journalists are clamoring for a reopening of the economy. Health advisors are cautioning us against a second wave of dire death, and the comparison to the Spanish Flu is again surfacing all over social media. The Spanish Flu? I'm a skeptic about that one, but the numbers do continue to rise. Right? We're seeing images of coffins and refrigerators, hearing stories of prisoners in New Jersey and New York burying the dead in large numbers. I don’t know about you, but such spectres make me cower.
And then there's the Constitution. The right to worship. The right to assemble. The right to work and provide for one's own. The right not to be under the government's weighty thumb. While some of those concerns I just mentioned are not exactly enshrined in the Bill of Rights, it's right there in the Declaration of Independence. Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness. I'm sure there are some who would rather be exposed to illness than twiddle their thumbs at this point. They want to paint. They want to do odd jobs. They want to earn an income. Some of them want to do anything besides listen to the constant stream of bad news radiating like a wave of particles from Chernobyl through the flat screen of what used to be appropriately nicknamed the boob tube.
Then there's the issue of trust. Trust in one another. Is your neighbor exposed? Trust in authority. Is the media exposing you to propaganda? Trust for government. Is Trump a tyrant? Was Obama out of line? What about Bush? How far back does the government malfeasance and incompetence go? Who will Biden pick and will he make any strides when it comes to progress at the national level, however you define it?
Why are we arguing? Why are we listening? Why are we even engaged? The most important question of all, "Is despair an option?"
My answer to that is NO. Despair is not an option. Keep talking to one another. Keep caring for your neighbor, no matter their political views. No matter what church they attend, whether they're Muslim or atheist, gay, transgender, gossipy or a peacock. Because that's the only way our country will survive.
I was having a conversation last night with one of my best friends. He helped me set up my business, my blog, my sense of self, during a productive week two years ago when he visited me from his home in Canada. Last night we were talking over the phone about a quote I viewed online, which I will paraphrase:
If you have a question about someone's motivation or character, look to the character of their friends.
This very benevolent friend of mine said, "Write your next blog about that. And tie it in to the vote."
I need to clarify that this conversation was a bit complicated by, and tied directly to, our understanding of politics and the current climate, and the political sympathies we were both privy to through online discussions. We were discussing how to vote if you don't care at all about politics (Conclusion: Don't vote), and the ethics of abstaining when you're actually invested in the political process (Conclusion: Everyone should be), and most importantly, how to vote when you can't decide who to vote for. These are deep questions for troubling times. Our election approaches, and pretty much every person I talk to, online and in person, is wringing their hands politically over one deep quandary or another.
The conclusion of my friend? Vote for the candidate the people you most love, and who most love you, vote for. Vote as an elector of family. Or let your family be your electoral college of the mind. Spin it any way you want, you and me both. Be your own Super PAC. Fund your decisions with warmth and compassion and the fires of home and the soul food of novelty and change. You get my drift.
Citizens United. For real this time.