Oh Friday… I am so glad you are here and bringing this week to a close. I tried to write letters this week, but gave up and decided a bit of TGIF was more in order.
Thinking about —
Roe vs Wade and Sonia Sotomayor… specifically these words: “Will this institution survive the stench that this creates in the public perception that the Constitution and its reading are just political acts? I don’t see how it is possible.”
And I am thinking lots about the lies that Gorsuch, Kavanaugh, and Coney Barrett glibly told in their hearings… their “assurances” in their belief in stare decisis – precedent – was how the court would decide. I wonder how that twat from Maine is feeling about her vote to confirm them this week. Coney Barrett set my hair on fire even more than all the others with her thoughts that women are all handmaidens and we can just give birth and give the baby away… thanks to The Land of Safe Haven in all 50 States.
I am sorry, Justice Sotomayor… but the stench is already there. There are 21 states with Trigger Laws all ready to go… The court is overloaded with political hacks and until the court is expanded (which should be happening NOW) I am expecting more of the same on things that will impact all of the citizens that the “moral-less minority” does not like.
Grateful for —
November was a hard month for me… emotionally and physically because when your emotions are in the wringer, your body feels those effects too. But I had one incredible saving grace this month… poetry! From the poems in my in-box to the poems on podcasts… each day brought a poem (or two) that helped me get through that moment… that hour… that day. So many have been printed out and are tucked in the pages of my journal, but the month ended with a poem that I think will stick with me for a very long time. I have it printed out and it is next to Derek Walcott’s Love After Love… I think they are the perfect poems to be read one after the other and I thought I’d share it with you all:
When your son abandons the lawnmower for the second time in as many days
We all want to leave this widening night,
this barking at the thing we can’t see.
No one walks through their story un-stung.
This yard, this life, like a book of changes,
the moment buzzing by like a prophecy,
your body a constellation of pain.
We spend our time stumbling through the white fog,
searching the doctrine of our own breath
when all we need do is crawl deep inside
the silence that comes after and face
the teeming hole in the ground, the wasp’s nest,
that cousin of the eyelessness of space.
Do not fear the ache and swell my sweet boy.
It’s easy to hate what we’re given.
Copyright © 2021 by Peter Grandbois. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on November 30th, 2021 by the Academy of American Poets.
In search of any common sense, at all —
Another school shooting this week followed by a flurry of school closings/lockdown’s across the nation (even in Pittsburgh today) and I am just so angry and frustrated. But Garrison Keillor had some snarky wisdom this morning… and I will take the snark every.single.day.
I am sure this snark will be lost on that moral-less minority who might actually think that compulsory school attendance is not something for all children… because after all, what could be better than to give those kids an early start in those factory jobs at greatly reduced pay, because they are so small!
The tree is up and almost all decorated (I have a few finishing touches to get to this morning) and the lights are out on our bushes! Christmas can officially begin! LOL (and so can the weekend! Steve has today off!)
See you all back here on Monday!