No one, not even me, wants to spend one more second thinking about the precarious state of American democracy, 249 years after the Declaration of Independence*. We’d much rather hang out with family and friends around the barbecue, savoring our burgers, beer and strawberry shortcake.
That’s what I did.
But first I had a good cry—weeping for all the people whose lives will be harmed by the disastrous budget bill just passed. (Machiavellian Medicaid move — the cuts won’t kick in till right after the mid-term elections. But ICE thuggery will escalate even further immediately, now with super-charged funding.)
The weekend was all about self-care:
I took walks. I took pictures of beautiful homes. (See at the bottom)
I began the process of refreshing my photo display—changing up what’s in the frames makes my apartment feel new again. More magnolias and different views of France in the living room, and in the bathroom acknowledging that my grandkids are no longer in kindergarten.
I made “art.” Art is in quotes because my drawing skills are only slightly more advanced then when I was in kindergarten myself, but for a sanity-saving meditation I’ve vowed to spend a few minutes drawing every day. I made a stab at drawing the old growth fir pillar in the center of my apartment. Perspective is a bitch. (The weird shape is a metal sculpture of an abstract violin…way too hard to render)
I took stock of my overflowing bookshelves and gave myself a serious talking-to. Will I ever read that? Or, will I ever finish that or read it again? The answer was no, no, no—so I packed the culls in a rolling backpack and hauled them down to Powell’s. It appears that on leisurely holiday weekends many folks have the same idea. Four buyers behind the counter, buried in stacks of books, were trying to keep up. “Oh, no… don’t get rid of that!” I wanted to say to the lady in front of me, “let me read it first…” I got $39 credit to BUY MORE BOOKS.
I lay on the couch, switching between two delightful books, The Best of Brevity, a collection of very short non-fiction pieces (“flash”--max 750 words), and Out on the Wire: The Story-Telling Secrets of the New Masters of Radio, which is about This American Life (Ira Glass) and all the fabulous programs that have followed (RadioLab, Planet Money, Snap Judgment, Serial, Invisibilia, Heavyweight...). These are the shows that get you so hooked that you can’t get out of your car when you arrive at your destination—known to public radio listeners as “driveway moments.” I am addicted to This American Life, have probably heard most of their 800+ episodes over its 30 years (!), so it’s fascinating to learn how these stories come together. Both books offer a lifetime’s worth of lessons for the writer/story-teller.
*I read an essay on the Declaration Of Independence as re-conceived by conservative judge Michael Luttig. Powerful stuff.
I read a moving remembrance of Bill Moyers, a giant of TV journalism who died this week. The particular program David Corn writes about got viewers rightly riled up.
I asked myself, has Trump done anything that will improve the life of the majority of Americans (not counting his billionaire and CEO buddies)? The answer is not yet. He expressly said he hates Democrats. “I really hate them.” Then he fucking LIES (what else is new) that the bill kicks illegal immigrants off Medicaid (fact-check: they are NOT eligible for Medicaid. Or Food Stamps). And he lies when he says Democrats hate America. No no no—we hate what he’s doing to our country. FYI: it is our country too. And FYI again: The president is supposed to serve all of us, not just the ones who voted for him (and they’ll soon enough discover that he’s screwed them too…).
Bleccch. Sorry. I forgot about self-care for a moment there.
Put yourself in the way of beauty
Two beautifully tended homes from around 1906. This one is just a few blocks from where I live in NW Portland:
And this one is in SE Portland, known as the Shogren house. The two Shogren sisters were dressmakers to Portland high society. The house is next door to my friend Deborah, who hosted the 4th of July BBQ.
And for good measure… since I posted a couple of smokebush photos last week, without the smoke, here’s what a cotinus in full smoke looks like. Crazy!
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Hey, thanks for reading all the way to the end. You are a trooper. We’re in this together. Joy
When I moved out of my house into a condo fifteen years ago I got rid of many old books, but even though I still have two large book cases still filled with books, I don't think I can part with any more of them. I still have my ragged copy of Virgil's Aeneid in Latin from high school, several college texts including Samuelson's Economics, Astronomy 101 (surely outdated 60 years ago) and several texts from being an English major including the compete works of Chaucer, Milton and Shakespeare. I also have novels from favorite authors including all of the books of classmate Nora Ephron. I may never reread any of them but when I glance at them when I walk by they bring back cherished memories of times gone by. That's why I can't get rid of them!
Joy, reading your Substack is fun, entertaining, and so very honest! You’re singing my tune!
I don’t like labels, I can say I care about people less fortunate than I am. Does that make me weak or a socialist, or a bleeding heart? I think it means, “There, but for the grace of God, go I”
We all have our challenges and lessons to learn, so why would I ever look down on anyone? I’m no billionaire, and I never had that as a goal either…as Dolly Levi said (in Hello Dolly), “Money is like manure, it’s no good unless you spread it around encouraging little things to grow!” You definitely can’t take it with you, so why not be like Keanu Reeves and share it with those who might benefit from it!
Please Joy, keep writing and uplifting our spirits!